Inside it was dim and cloudy and fluorescent lights strobed to the heavy drumming beat of bone-jarring music. There were bodies gyrating on a dance floor which seemed to be made entirely of clear green glass bricks. Tiny holes in some of the bricks periodically shot out powerful jets of air. Every once in a while one of the dancers—most of them Mistresses but also some body-slaves as well—would be lofted ten feet in the air via the air jets and blown into a heavy-duty net positioned at the far end of the room.
Shrieks of laughter and shouts of rage greeted the results of each new blast of air but always the Mistress or slave who had been carried away simply struggled out of the net and went on dancing. Thorn thought some of them looked almost manic, their eyes so wide you could see the whites all the way around and their mouths grimacing with frantic glee.
“Watch out, we need to stay off the dance floor,” Neh’sa spoke in his ear, rather louder than usual to make herself heard. “They’re using spiked dream gas in the blowers. It heightens sensations but it also kills your reality perception. We don’t need to be drugged at the banquet.”
Thorn had to agree with that. They needed to stay sharp to get through tonight—especially with Lady Wraith’neck and her bizarre pet in attendance.
Instead of turning into the main room, they threaded their way down a narrow corridor which housed freshers—a grand one with marble and gold fixtures for the Mistresses and a much smaller and plainer one for the body-slaves—as well as a few other dark rooms.
Some of these rooms had the same gear Neh’sa had in her training area at home—agony crosses to tie a submissive to, whips, canes, paddles, spanking benches…but there were also new pieces of equipment Thorn hadn’t seen before.
In one room he saw a submissive male crouching in a spiked cage with the spikes facing inward. When his Mistress threw a handle on the side of the cage, one wall of spikes slowly inched inward, forcing the hapless slave to skitter to the other side of his iron prison while trying to keep away from the spikes which stuck out from that wall.
It was clear to Thorn that the slave would eventually lose this contest. Hopefully he would only be scratched when the spikes inevitably touched his skin. But if his Mistress was a sadist, well…there were some dark marks on the floor beneath the spiked cage that looked an awful lot like blood.
In another room they passed, Thorn saw a male body-slave bent over a spanking bench with his legs chained wide apart. His Mistress was in the act of inserting a long, thick phallus with painful looking metal knobs imbedded in its surface. Protruding from the end was a series of feathered plumes like a bird’s tail.
To Thorn’s surprise, he recognized the body-slave—it was the male with long, luxurious black hair who had been on display beside him at the auction almost a week ago. The male who had admitted he wanted to submit to a stern Yonnite Mistress.
Thorn wondered how much he was enjoying his submission now.
“Now hold still, Yarks,” the Mistress was telling her slave as she worked to press the thick, metal studded phallus into his nether entrance. “This is just the thing to wear to the banquet tonight. All the other Mistresses will be so jealous.”
“But Mistress, I’ve never had anything so large in me before,” the male protested. He jerked his head so that his long hair wouldn’t hide his face and stared over his shoulder at her appealingly. “Please, Mistress! Perhaps a smaller tail—”
“Shush!” Absently, his Mistress pressed a small silver remote which was attached to her wrist with a slender black cord.
The body-slave gasped and every muscle in his body went tense and jerked in a kind of seizure for a moment.
It was clear to Thorn that his Mistress had activated his pain collar and sent a jolt of agonizing pain through him for daring to disagree with her.
At last he went limp and lay panting over the spanking bench once more.
“Now then, Yarks—who is in charge of which kind of tail you wear tonight?”
“Y-you are, M-m-Mistress,” the body-slave gasped.
“Good. Now that’s established, hold still so I can put this in you. The banquet is about to start and I don’t want to be the last one announced.”
She went back to screwing the metal-studded phallus into her hapless slave’s ass while he bit his lip, clearly trying not to cry out.
“Thorn, come.”
Neh’sa’s voice jerked him out of his contemplation of the scene in the small dark room. Thorn realized he had gotten caught up in watching and hadn’t kept up with his Mistress’s step.
“Forgive me, Mistress.” He strode forward, cursing himself for a fool. He couldn’t let himself get distracted like that—especially when he was here to protect Neh’sa from all the freaks in this place.
“Got caught up in watching a tail insertion, did you?” Her dark eyes danced just a bit as she regarded him.
“I knew that male. He was right beside me at the auction,” Thorn said, not answering her remark about the “tail insertion.”
Neh’sa shook her head. “A pity for him he was bought by Mistress Hell’waist then. She cares for nothing but appearances and doesn’t give a damn if she has to hurt her body-slaves to achieve the desired ‘look’.”
“Why aren’t you making me wear a tail?” The words burst from Thorn’s lips before he could stop them.
Neh’sa arched one perfectly shaped brow at him.
“Do you want to wear a tail?”
Thorn scowled. “You know I don’t.”
“But you would if I wanted you to.” Her voice grew softer. “Which is one reason I won’t ask it of you. Your willingness to serve and submit is enough for me, Thorn—I don’t need physical proof of it. Besides,” she added, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “you had enough trouble with the silver wand I used on you and that was only inside you for a few minutes. I don’t think you’re ready for prolonged penetration yet.”
Prolonged penetration. The thought sent a cold shiver down Thorn’s spine. Gods, no matter how pleasurable it was when Neh’sa penetrated him, he still didn’t think he could ever imagine himself asking for it.
“What is this place, anyway?” he demanded gruffly as they continued down the long, dim corridor. “I thought this was a club, not a Goddess-damned torture chamber.”
“These are just play rooms where Mistresses can try out new and exotic equipment they don’t have at home,” Neh’sa explained. “They—”
But just then a door on their left swung open, revealing a scene that hit Thorn like a blow to the gut.
A body-slave about his age was chained to an agony cross, his arms and legs manacled to the four corners of the X shaped equipment. Behind him was a Mistress holding a whip. But not just any whip—the end of this whip hissed and sparked, tongues of flame licking along its long, snakelike surface.
Thorn bit back a curse. A fire whip—they had a fucking fire whip here!
As he watched, the Mistress flicked the whip with an expert motion of her wrist, causing the end of the fiery lash to lick across the broad, bare expanse of her slave’s back.
The slave howled in agony and a bright red burn mark appeared between his shoulder blades. The Mistress drew back her arm again, a cruel smirk twisting her red lips. Clearly she was just getting started.
“Gods,” Thorn whispered hoarsely. Because of his Enfuego nature and the fire inside him, outer burns were somehow much more difficult to bear than almost any other injury. The pain of his own whipping when he’d been tortured during a past mission came back to him tenfold.
The crackling flames… the hiss of the whip… the faint stench of scorched flesh…the agonizing burn as the lash licks my skin again and again…each blow as painful as a lightning strike…
“Oh Thorn, I’m sorry!” Neh’sa put a small hand on his arm to urge him along the corridor.
But for a moment, Thorn felt frozen in place. He literally couldn’t move—he was too mired in the past. Too stuck in the labyrinth of his own brain.
The whipping was horrible but it was no more than I deserved. A payment for the sins of my past. The last time the fire got loose in me, the last time it overflowed…
“Come,” Neh’sa urged him again. Maybe it was her soft hand on his arm or the loving concern he heard in her voice but finally Thorn found his way out of himself and turned away from the room where the fire whip was being wielded.
“I’m…sorry,” he said haltingly, his voice sounding hoarse and strange in his own ears. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m the one who should apologize,” Neh’sa said. “I knew they had fire whips here but I never dreamed we’d run across someone actually using one. They’re such a sadistic form of punishment. Almost as bad as a branding iron!”
“Which they also have here, I’m guessing?” Thorn said dryly, beginning to recover his composure.
“Well…yes.” Neh’sa sighed. “Of course, some submissives enjoy such extreme punishments. But they aren’t the only ones who get whipped and branded, unfortunately. There are many, many unwilling participants in Yonnite society. We have a very…unequal distribution of power and wealth.”
Her words surprised Thorn.
“Would you have it otherwise?” he asked, frowning.
“Yes. Does that surprise you?” She looked up at him.
“Frankly, yes. You’re at the top of this pyramid, Neh’sa—I would expect you to want to stay there.”
For once she didn’t correct him for calling her by her first name. Instead, a thoughtful look came over her lovely face.
“I wasn’t raised completely on Yonnie Six, you know. My mother inherited this position from a great aunt and moved us here when I was just ten cycles old. She thought it would be good for me since I was already exhibiting extremely…shall we say dominant personality traits.”
Thorn grinned at her.
“You were a little brat, weren’t you?”
“I was more what you would call ‘bossy’ I suppose,” Neh’sa said thoughtfully. “I was always the head of any group, the president of any club, the leader on any imaginary expedition…” One corner of her lush mouth quirked up. “I used to organize games where the males had to crawl on the ground like yola-hounds, fetching sticks for the females, who were their masters. Things like that.”
“I can see why your mother would think the life of a Yonnite Mistress would be a perfect fit,” Thorn said dryly.
“It is…in a way.” Neh’sa sighed pensively. “But I’ve never forgotten my early upbringing. Lylas is a much more fair and even world, you know—probably because everyone can feel everyone else’s emotions.”
“You’d have to be a sadist and a masochist to want to hit someone with a fire whip if you could feel their agony as your own when you did so,” Thorn growled.
“Lylasians feel mostly emotional pain but still, it is enough to make you want to avoid causing that pain if you can help it. It’s one reason I try to be careful of what punishments I use,” she said seriously. “But I don’t avoid them altogether— Pain can be used as a tool—not just a weapon.”
Thorn frowned. “How do you mean?”
She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Just that sometimes physical pain can help to release emotional pain.”
Thorn couldn’t argue with that. He remembered the feeling of needing an intense physical release the last time the fire had almost gotten away from him. Neh’sa had strapped him to the spanking bench and used the silver wand on him then, but would a fire whip across his shoulders and back have worked just as well to contain the flames within him?
Thorn was pretty sure it would have.
Sometimes the inner turmoil grew too great—it had to have an outlet. At least that was how he felt ever since Neh’sa had melted the emotional shields he’d held in place for such a long time.
“Tell me, Neh’sa—do you feel every pain you inflict?” he asked curiously.
“Oh yes. And some I have not inflicted.” She reached up and cupped his cheek in her small, cool palm. “Thorn, I felt the conflict in you when you saw that other slave being lashed. And I had a very strong feeling that you thought it was your fault somehow when you were whipped the same way. That you somehow…deserved it.”
Thorn frowned and jerked away from her hand, straightening up to his full height so she couldn’t reach him.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Mistress,” he growled.
“Yes, you do,” Neh’sa said quietly. “And if you ever want to talk about it, Thorn…I’m here.”
“Speaking of here, is this the readiness room you were talking about?” he asked abruptly, indicating a small room at the end of the long corridor which appeared to be more brightly lit than the punishment areas they’d passed along the way.
Neh’sa sighed. “Yes, it is. Let’s go in so I can put on your everlast. Then we’ll go around to the grand archway to be announced.”
Thorn was glad his change of subject had worked. Despite Neh’sa’s kind offer to talk, he had absolutely no wish to relate his sordid past. Most of the time he was able to hide it, even from himself. It was just that sometimes, certain things brought it up. The fire whip—
But no. Thorn pushed it from his mind as they walked into the small room which looked like a last minute dressing area for Mistresses and their body-slaves.
There was already a Mistress there, wearing a bright green and silver dress which showed her breasts and panties. She was primping anxiously in front of one of the many 3-D viewers that lined one entire wall, trying to get her elaborate hairdo—which had been sculpted to look like an immense ocean wave—just right. Beside her, wearing a thick green collar which matched his Mistress’s dress, was a slave. He was sporting a fully engorged phallus constricted by a matching green band.
“There, Milty—I think we’re ready,” the Mistress said to her slave who looked up at her adoringly. “Are you prepared to kiss my panties?”
“Yes, Mistress,” her slave murmured. “I’ll be pleased to serve you in any way I can.”
“Such a good body-slave.” The Mistress stroked his hair affectionately and he responded by rubbing against her hand, almost like a pet begging for attention.
So apparently not every slave here was unhappy with his lot, Thorn thought as he watched the two greet Neh’sa and then exit the readiness room. There did exist loving and committed relationships in this strange society. They just weren’t often on display.
“Now then,” Neh’sa murmured once they had privacy. “Let’s see what we have to work with.”
She had Thorn stand in the middle of the room and removed the black loincloth he was wearing over his crotchless leather trousers as usual. Unfortunately, the scene they had witnessed in the punishment room with the fire whip and the sadistic Mistress had completely drained him of desire. After watching that, he felt like he might never get hard again.
“Hmm.” Neh’sa frowned as she took his length in one small hand. “What we saw really bothered you didn’t it?” She looked up at Thorn speculatively. “Well let’s see if we can fix that.”
“I can fix it myself if you’ll let me, Mistress,” he said quickly. He knew how important it was for a body slave to display an engorged phallus and he didn’t want to shame her in any way. He started to take himself in hand but the shocks of the non-contact bracelets stopped him. Even if they hadn’t, Neh’sa was already shaking her head.
“No Thorn, I’m your Mistress. Allow me to take care of you.”
“Yes Mistress,” Thorn murmured, wondering exactly how she was going to “take care of him.” He expected her to stroke him to engorgement, and indeed her soft little hands on him were incredibly arousing.
Instead, Neh’sa dropped to her knees before him, heedless of her lovely gown. She looked up at him through the thick fringe of her black lashes.
“I want to feel you grow hard in my mouth,” she said softly.
“Gods, Mistress! You don’t have to—”
She shook her head, silencing his protest.
“Relax Thorn, and let me make you hard.”
Thorn had to bite back a groan as she opened her lush mouth, glossy with deep red lip stain, and took his entire length between her lips at once. Her soft warm tongue bathed his cock, swirling around and around his shaft until he thought he would go crazy from the pleasurable sensation.
Of course he didn’t stay soft for long. All thoughts of the fire whip and his tortured past faded and he felt a rush as his shaft began to fill. Soon he was achingly hard and Neh’sa was left sucking only the broad head of his cock.
“Gods Mistress,” Thorn groaned again, daring to reach down and stroke her soft cheek as she sucked him and swirled the tip of her little pink tongue around his throbbing tip. “That feels incredible. Do other Mistresses do this for their body slaves?”
“Not in public they don’t,” she murmured withdrawing at last. “Though I know many who indulge their… shall we say less than correct fantasies in the privacy of their own domiciles. But you may have noticed by now that I’m not exactly the typical Mistress.”
She leaned forward again and pressed her lips to the side of his aching shaft, leaving a clear imprint of her lush lips in the red lip stain she wore.
It’s like she’s fucking branding me, Thorn thought. If so it was a brand he would gladly wear.
“There now, I think you’re hard enough,” Neh’sa murmured.
Rising, she reached into her beaded bag and withdrew the everlast band. It fit around the base of his cock and twisted around the base of his balls as well, making both feel sensitive and vulnerable.
On display, Thorn thought with a mixture of pride and shame. No male should be so willing to be exploited just for the pleasure of his female and yet he couldn’t help himself – he wanted Neh’sa to be proud of him. Wanted to make a good showing before the other Mistresses in order to please her and bring her status.
“You look lovely Thorn,” Neh’sa told him with a smile. “I’m so proud to have you at my side.”
“I’m proud to be here,” Thorn told her and it was true. “You look lovely too, Mistress,” he added, taking in her nearly bare breasts and the opening in her panties that showed the naked slit of her pussy. “If you’d just given me a minute to look at you in that dress, you wouldn’t have had to suck me.”
“But I wanted to suck you,” Neh’sa purred. Taking his shaft in her hand, she stroked from the root of his cock all the way up the broad head until a single bead of precum appeared on his slit. Leaning down, she lapped it away with a single stroke of her little pink tongue. “I enjoy your flavor.”
“As I enjoy yours, Mistress,” Thorn growled, his cock throbbing in her hand.
Her cheeks went pink, but she ignored his reference to the night before when he’d taken control and tasted her pussy until she came for him—came over and over until he finally allowed her to stop.
“Come,” she murmured. “It’s time we were announced and entered the banquet. The sooner we get this over with the better.”
She swept from the room, leaving Thorn to follow in her wake.