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Bosom Bondage Buddies, Part 2 by Brandy Dewinter (continued from part 1) Chapter 23 - Mistress Raven and Slaves The next morning I dressed in a midnight blue lace blouse and a snug leather mini while Kelly chose a cheerful ice-blue sundress. Having carefully cleaned my earposts twice a day as the holes healed during the previous week, for the first time I was able to wear the shining gold loop earrings. We climbed up on our impossibly high heels and swayed arm-in-arm out to meet Rocky to be greeted by heartfelt applause in appreciation of our appearance. Kelly readily confirmed the relationship Rocky and I had defined the night before and we made plans for the day. Our masculine lover was going to have to go back to the Pacific Northwest so we took him to brunch on the way to the airport. We laughed together at the envy in other men's eyes for Rocky and at the envy in other women's eyes for our beauty and our massively handsome date. Finally we were at the airport, working to maintain the cheerful mood and avoid a tearful good-bye. Kelly and I placed matching lipstick marks on his cheeks before he went down the jetway, the difference in our lipstick shades demonstrating that two women had been involved, and I wondered who would be the first to let him know about them. "Well, Kelly, this has been an eventful few days," I said as we waited for his plane to pull away from the gate. "Did you ever think this would be the result of your challenge?" "No," she laughed, "if I had a million guesses I'd never have used one to predict we would be standing here, dressed so beautifully." Then she whispered to me, "and I wouldn't have guessed how excited I'd get at the thought of bondage, let alone the actual experience." "Now that's one I would have guessed," I whispered back. "I always thought you'd like it if you ever let yourself try." "Really?" she said. "All along I've been priding myself on having done a lot better job of recognizing your fantasy than you did of recognizing mine. Here I thought you were just lucky, but you really did know me better than I knew myself." "Oh, there's not a thing wrong with the fantasy you recognized for me. It's perfect. I wouldn't have believed how effective you could make it, though, if I hadn't been there all along," I grinned as I hugged her. By this time Rocky's plane had been pushed back from the gate and there wasn't much purpose to staying around any longer, but we wanted to enjoy the day rather than just go home, so we bought an underground paper from a seedy vendor and started looking through it for ideas. "So, beautiful, what's it going to take to keep you excited, now that you've been through such an incredible set of experiences?" Kelly asked. "You do just fine at exciting me," I assured her, but I had to admit there were ideas in the paper that looked interesting. Kelly's breathing had roughened as she looked at some of the advertisements so I knew there were some that had captured her attention as well. "Pick something," she suggested. "What about this one?" I asked pointing out an advertisement that read: Bondage Party! Master/Mistress and Slave Couples Only No Nudity, No Pain Slaves must be kept on a leash at all times! Kelly's breath froze at the audacity of my selection, but I could see an excited flush flood to her cheeks and her nipples popped up so hard I could see them through the dress and corset that she wore. The party was at a surprisingly upscale hotel in a city about an hour's drive away from our home, so practical anonymity was achievable. According to the advertisement, we would also have a week to get ready as the party was the following Saturday night. "Oh, Brandy, you're too much. I couldn't go public as a slave, in bondage." "Once upon a time I would have said that about going public as a woman, yet here I am," I countered. "What would we wear?" she asked, obviously wanting to go, just offering arguments in order not to seem too eager. "I could wear what I'm wearing now, with my thigh-high spiked boots," I said, then continued. "With, I think, the addition of an elegant domino mask for mystery. You, on the other hand, need some more appropriate attire." Kelly gulped but made no further comment, already surrendering control to me. I took her arm and we left the airport, going by a costume store that was open on Sunday. In it I found the mask I wanted, dark, glossy, with large enough openings to emphasize rather than conceal my beautifully made-up eyes. We picked out an innocent white mask for Kelly as well, but it was not my intention to let her wear it all the time. She would be as exposed in her fantasy as I was in mine, disguised only by the unbelievable circumstances rather than a real mask. On the other hand, my own mask would add to my authority, making her even more subservient to my mystery. We also found a slave outfit for Kelly, right out of an adolescent fantasy novel, though her spectacular figure was emphatically adult. Her costume was made of diaphanous white nylon, with a shockingly abbreviated skirt held up by a halter-style top slit to her navel. She would have to keep her head up and shoulders back all evening or the top would fall away from her bust, leaving her exposed. As it was, only her glorious figure allowed her some degree of confidence as her outthrust tits pushed forward within the fabric to hold it in place. Our next stop was a shoe store, where we found her some sky-high white sandals with golden ankle straps to complete her outfit, except for the bondage devices. I already had a plan for those, but I wouldn't tell Kelly what it was. The next week passed quickly. Since I wouldn't really be able to drive the pickup anymore, I dressed as Ran one day and sold it, replacing it with a wine-red 300ZX convertible much more in keeping with Brandy's style. It seemed so strange now to go out in public without makeup and wig, and wearing low-heeled shoes. I had become accustomed to being taller since with my normal heels I was comfortably over six feet, and I was forcibly reminded of how much I disliked being short. Even under Ran's boring outfit I wore garter belt and stockings, but I couldn't wait to get home and change into more familiar, feminine clothes. I had also scheduled another appointment at the nail parlor as soon as I realized I would have to shorten my nails for the day, so before Kelly even got home that evening I had my nails redone and was back to my normal, elegant appearance. The business arrangement we had invented, where Ran worked at home and Brandy went into the office worked very well. Using Ran's voice, I set up appointments with Brandy for the clients who were due for a review and then kept them as Brandy. My clients, typically successful businessmen, were more than happy to be attended to by such a beautiful young woman, but I was surprised to see an equal pleasure on the part of the one woman client I met with that week. She lost no time in letting me know it was about time Ran had accepted a woman in a responsible position, any jealousy at my beauty buried beneath a militant feminism I hadn't previously recognized. I supposed "we" might lose a few female clients who were put off by prettier women, and I was truly prettier than most of the women who had devoted themselves to business success rather than feminine wiles, but we might gain others who were pleased with a firm that had a woman apparently in charge. These meetings allowed me the time to run errands during the week as well and by the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I had picked up Kelly's new bondage items. My first impulse had been to go with heavy black leather implements, complete with metal studs, shiny buckles, and obvious locks. That might have been appropriate for a large, darkly sensuous woman like Brandy, but Kelly was too petite, too angelic for that stereotype of bondage. Instead, I had chosen to focus on lightweight, golden bonds that would reinforce her apparent helplessness, showing her to be too weak to break even small chains. Nonetheless, the bondage would be real, the chains I had chosen were more than enough for her strength, even if Rocky would have hardly noticed them if they had been applied to him. Then it turned out there would be another reason to have new bonds for Kelly. We had continued our evening walks, though of course I was now always Brandy, and we were joined regularly by Billie Jo. Since she was fully aware of our amazingly effective incentives to lose weight, we talked freely with her while we strode along. That Friday evening, Kelly brought up the impending party. "Guess where we're going tomorrow night," she grinned, excited by our outrageous plan. "With you two, I couldn't begin to guess," Billie Jo chuckled. "Mistress Brandy and I are going to a bondage party, I'm to be her slave," Kelly said with surprising pride. I knew it excited her, but it was always a little unexpected to realize she truly enjoyed proclaiming her love for me through her bondage. Billie Jo came to an abrupt halt, staring at Kelly, then at me. "You're kidding," she accused. "No," I laughed, "it's for real. Want to come along? A mistress can always use an extra slave." I had offered in jest, but the instant flush and hard nipple points Billie Jo displayed showed real interest, though she didn't say anything. We had stopped when she did and for a long moment no one said anything. Finally Kelly broke the ice. "I think she does, Mistress Brandy," Kelly chuckled. Billie Jo still said nothing, certainly she didn't deny it, so Kelly and I began to plan Billie Jo's involvement just as though she had agreed. We took her arms and pulled her along with us as we talked. "Let's see," I mused, "if I'm wearing black and you're wearing white, I think Billie Jo needs to wear bright red, don't you?" "Yes," Kelly agreed, "but in the same style as all your slaves wear, right?" "Oh, certainly," I agreed. "I'll get your outfit in the morning, Billie Jo. All you need to do is come over to our house tomorrow afternoon. We'll take care of the rest. However, we will need to use your car. Make sure it's full of gas." Billie Jo nodded in acceptance of my direction, surrendering just as Kelly had to my leadership. It wasn't until we started this conversation that I remembered we had never bound Billie Jo to our bed. She had always been free, never experiencing the complete release possible when completely helpless. One of these days we might have to rectify that as well, I mused, though I knew Billie Jo thought herself fulfilled by the members of her massively masculine stud patrol, or by occasional evenings with Kelly alone. "By the way," I said, "we need different names for the party. While I expect it to be fun, I don't want anyone to try and bridge from the party into our personal lives. From now on, when you're in your slave roles, you will address me as Milady Raven. Is that clear?" Nods from both of them confirmed their agreement. "Now let's see, Angel is clearly the best slave name for you, Kelly, but I'm not so sure what name I should give Billie Jo. Ah, I have it, when you are a slave you will be Huntress and you will be a devoted, but deadly hunting bitch, my own personal attack wolf. In case I forget to mention it later, you will be allowed to snarl at or even bite anyone but me who gets too close." This time I didn't even ask for their agreement, taking it for granted that they would comply with my wishes. I began to realize that I had not fully understood the mistress/slave relationship myself when Kelly and I had started on this journey. I had correctly understood one aspect, that of the slave surrendering control of her body to the mistress so that the slave could give herself fully to the physical sensations of sexual exultation. There was a mental aspect to the relationship as well, though, that would allow the slaves to act outrageously without guilt or responsibility. This aspect was a different sort of release for the slaves, one that didn't really appeal to me since my internal inhibitions were more of a limit to me than society's rules. Then I laughed as the incongruity of walking along a street, dressed as a beautiful woman, planning a mistress/slave relationship, yet thinking of myself as inhibited. Maybe it was just that I didn't let society's rules limit me, regardless of whether my own were more or less stringent, so I didn't need the excuse of slave status to act as outrageously as I wanted. For the remainder of our walk, Billie Jo was very quiet but the blush never left her cheeks and I could see external evidence of the wild fantasies that were running through her mind. Her breathing, usually completely steady even during our brisk walks since she was so wonderfully fit, stayed ragged and rough the whole way. Only when we reached her driveway did she shake herself out of her stupor, visibly getting a hold on herself. "So, we'll see you about 3:00 tomorrow," I confirmed, not letting it seem like a question, though she had never actually agreed. She nodded and went into her house without a word, but the hard points of her nipples shouted her enthusiasm and excitement. Chapter 24 - Belles of the Ball The next morning I donned my black corset and thigh-high boots, deciding that I would wear my tight leather miniskirt and the jacket to my leather dress, but not the dress itself, adding only a wide black choker band to hide my throat. The corset forced my chest up enough to offer just a hint of cleavage and the corset itself concealed the breast forms, hinting at hidden secrets under the leather jacket in a decidedly titillating way. Then I sent Kelly off to get Billie Jo's slave dress and high-heeled sandals while I went to the specialty shop for Billie Jo's bonds. I still hadn't told Kelly what her bondage would entail, and didn't want her along when I picked out Billie Jo's items, either. My plan, though, was for Billie Jo to wear more traditional leather bonds in keeping with her hunting bitch persona. I found what I wanted at the same specialty shop I had used for Kelly's items, though this time the handsome clerk looked at me with increased interest. "Pardon me, ma'am, but I remember when you were in here before. You seem to have interesting tastes," he said diffidently. I looked at him for a long time without responding, fixing him with a hard stare that made it clear he was little more than a bug to me and that I was considering whether it would be worth my while to soil my boot by squashing him. He wilted under my gaze, dropping his eyes and nervously shuffling his feet. "You will address me as Milady Raven, if you find it necessary to speak to me," I ordered coldly. "Yes, Milady Raven," he meekly replied. "I'm sorry if I intruded." His embarrassed shyness was, if anything, increased after my comment, but the instant tent pole in his pants showed how excited he was at the strong personality I was practicing on him. "Tell me, young man, how old are you?" I demanded. "Twenty-one, Milady Raven," he replied. "I just got this job after my birthday last week." "And what do you find so interesting about my tastes?" I asked with an elegantly arched brow, still cold in tone yet offering just a hint of a possible opportunity for a further relationship. "When you were in before, you bought delicate, beautiful chains and bonds, as though for a softly feminine person. This time, you have selected strong bonds suitable for a powerful person. It seems like a contradiction," he explained. "I use what is appropriate for each of my slaves, of course," I declared with an arrogant toss of my magnificent mane of hair, dismissing his confusion and implying he was too stupid for my attention. I opened my purse to get the money to pay for my selections, but he interrupted me again. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Milady Raven, I should have known. It would be a tremendous honor to be your slave, you must have many." I nodded abruptly as I paid for my purchases, interested in his obvious willingness to become subservient to me. In contrast to the massive strength of Rocky, or even Dart Tanyon, who had interested me when I was feeling feminine, this young man (only a few years younger than me, but definitely much less mature) was slight of build, trim but not muscular. He would probably transform into a more dainty woman than I had become, but the dark fantasies that came bubbling to the surface of my mind when I thought of him didn't include turning him into a woman. No indeed, I had other ideas for one such as him. Not that it mattered, I was only practicing my dominatrix personality and didn't intend anything further. To my surprise, however, when I looked in the package I found he had included his name and phone number on a slip with the receipt. Perhaps there was an opportunity here. When I got home, I saw that Kelly had gotten the costume items for Billie Jo, including a red domino mask similar to her white one. We discussed makeup and hairstyles, deciding on a more strident look for me than usual, darker eyeshadow, more distinct eyeliner, more sharply defined cheekbones. For Kelly we would tone down the makeup to near-invisible subtlety to emphasize her innocence. I would wear my hair down in its flowing waves, but Kelly would lift hers into a more controlled style. Since I was already dressed in my costume, except for the mask, I had Kelly don her own. She also put on a tiny white thong bikini under her slave outfit, but I didn't comment . . . for now. Sharply at the appointed time, Billie Jo showed up at our door. Her eyes widened when she saw the revealing outfit that Kelly was wearing, but she came in. First, I had Kelly redo Billie Jo's makeup into a vibrant, intense look, emphasizing the strong features of her face. We drew her eyeliner extra wide and used a silvery eyeshadow to give her eyes a wild, excited look. Billie Jo's hair was still too short for any significant styling, so a few minutes after her makeup was done she was wearing the red slave costume, though in her case the underwear hidden by the brief skirt was a pair of red bikini panties. "This won't work for me, I don't have Kelly's beautiful tits to keep the folds in place," she complained about the top of her dress. In reply I only gave her the cold stare I had used on the clerk in the specialty shop. After a pause long enough to make the point that I was not satisfied with her attitude, I began to give my orders firmly, with no room for discussion. "From this point on, you will not speak unless it is clear that I want you to do so. Is that clear, Huntress?" I asked, emphasizing her slave name as a sign of the attitude she was to adopt. "Yes, Milady Raven," she meekly replied, only the abrupt appearance of the hard points of her nipples betraying her excitement. She had forgotten the full extent of her role for the night, but accepted it with alacrity once reminded. I looked at Kelly, now Angel, with the same glare, demanding acknowledgment from her as well. "Yes, Milady Raven," Angel echoed, a small smile lurking in her eyes as much as on her lips, though she kept her gaze demurely down. I stared at her until she looked up at me to see my frown, then she wiped the smile from her eyes, adopting a suitably meek appearance, but the same signs of excitement were visible through the upper sections of her own dress. "You will both keep your heads up, and shoulders back throughout this evening. I will take it as a sign of disobedience if you allow your tops to become too revealing. Is that clear?" "Yes, Milady Raven," they chorused. "Very well," I said as I picked up two satchels. "These contain your bonds for the evening. I will not place them on you until we get to the site of the party. You may not look inside, but you will carry your own items." I handed Angel her package, which was quite light and significantly smaller than the package I handed to Huntress. Both accepted them and moved toward the door, only to be interrupted before they reached it by another command. "Wait. Both of you will remove your panties and leave them here. They are not part of your costume for tonight," I declared. Heat flamed in their cheeks, and they looked at each other, seeing an equivalent response. Breath rasped from each throat and their excitement began to waft in the air of the room. Without speaking, they carefully removed their panties, already dripping with pungent juices, and placed them on the dresser. The soft fabric of their skirts immediately flowed into the crack of their ass, sharply defining the cleavage. Any breeze at all and they were going to be totally exposed since it would only take a few inches of lift to reveal their naked femininity. In Angel's case her flamboyant tits were so well outlined by the thin material that she was practically naked anyway, while the lesser endowment that Huntress owned seemed non-existent except for two sharp points. "Now you may go to the car. Put your bonds in the trunk and get in the car, but do not fasten your seatbelts," I ordered. When they had complied, I pulled the seat straps up and over their arms, leaving their hands by their sides. They could escape fairly simply from this bondage, though it would not be easy since the backs of the seats would make moving their arms back difficult. The important thing was that they were bound to any degree, and would be for the entire trip. As I drove, I required that they describe erotic, sexual desires and experiences on the trip, drawing from them their specific remembered sensations or unfulfilled fantasies. This kept them (and me) intensely aroused for the entire trip to the neighboring city. It was hot enough outside that we kept the windows up and the air-conditioning on for the trip, which kept the air contained and allowed the scent of their excitement to permeate us, lodging in our hair and our clothes. Even a brief period outside as we walked to the party wouldn't hide that sensual smell. I pulled into the parking garage of the hotel, following the signs that identified the location for participants in the bondage party. Once we reached the area where the participants were getting out of their vehicles, I checked the apparel of the partygoers. Each master or mistress did indeed have their slave on a leash, not always placed about the neck of the slave. In addition, each partygoer was wearing a mask. Most slaves were bound as well, though some were constrained only by the leash. The most intense relationships were those where the slaves wore some dangerously revealing clothes and it was clear that we would fit in, though at the extreme end of the visible spectrum. Good, exactly as I desired. With this confirmation that we would not be foolishly out of place at the party, I got out of the car and undid the seatbelts for my slave girls, then ushered them to the back of the car where we would be hidden by the raised trunk lid from those passing. "Angel, you're first," I said as I took out her package. The first item I drew forth was a beautiful gold necklace, made of flattened chain links about an inch in diameter. I had sized it to be choker length and placed it snugly around her throat. A tiny padlock shining in matching gold fastened it around her delicate neck, though I didn't close the lock immediately. Bracelets followed, each in the same design, each with golden padlocks that I also left open, then ankle bracelets as well. "These are beautiful," Kelly breathed, forgetting for a moment the restriction on unrequested speech. She held her hands in front of her and arched her legs to look at the shining links on her ankles. I knew she expected that I would handcuff her hands before her, perhaps adding a hobble chain to her ankles. She was surprised, however, though intensely excited based on the renewed intensity of her nipple points, when I drew forth a single, long golden chain. The links in this chain were each about a quarter of an inch in size, more than large enough to keep her from breaking them, especially since they were really steel overlaid with gold plate, but still fine enough to continue the delicate beauty of her collar and cuffs. To her surprise, however, I pulled her hands behind her back and rotated the collar so that its lock was behind her neck as well. I fastened the chain first at her neck, then locked each cuff to the chain at the length they naturally matched, holding her hands behind her back a bit below her waist. Finally, I stooped down and fastened her ankle bracelets to the ends of the chain, which split into two strands and provided about a twelve-inch hobble. The delicate chain was just heavy enough for the sound of the links to provide a musical chime whenever she moved. Angel was breathtaking. The gleam of gold as it trailed down her naked back from her elegant throat to her towering sandals made her seem pure, innocent, helpless, desperately in need of a heroic rescuer, infinitely desirable. Her bound wrists forced her shoulders back and her magnificent bust forward, sharply defining them through the thin material of her slave dress. The exuberant femininity of her smooth curves combined with the angelic smile she always wore to offer that matchless combination of innocence and sensuality that only she possessed of all the women in the world. I was pleased and thrilled to see her pleasure as well. She was clearly exulting in the thought of being so desirable, so feminine, so beautiful. I knew anyone who took undue liberties with her would cause an explosion of anger, with the sole exception of myself, for she was not really a slave except to the love that we shared, but her true freedom was her armor against the degradation of slavery. Her triumphal pride reached Huntress as well. Previously, Huntress had been willing to go along on this as a thrilling lark, desirable for it's outrageous difference from her real life, her real persona. However, once she saw the radiant joy on Angel's face her own interest was roused and she wondered if she might have been missing out on something, something she was now offered a chance to share. Without permission, she reached for her own package, anxious to see what was inside. "Huntress!" I warned sharply as she moved toward the bag. "Did I tell you to do that?" "No, Milady Raven," she admitted, dropping her head. "I thought I told you to keep your head up and your shoulders back," I corrected her again with silky menace in my voice. "Yes, Milady Raven," she said quietly, though she raised her head and squared her shoulders. "I'm sorry." "Never apologize, it's a sign of weakness," I repeated the movie quote. "You especially, Huntress, must always be strong, but you must also learn to obey." "Yes, Milady Raven," she repeated. "It seems it was a good thing I selected bondage for you that will help you obey," I said quietly, though the menace in my voice caused a nervous look to appear on her face. Still, from the excitement and suspense her nipples resurrected to a level that must have been painful. I started out on Huntress with a red leather collar, decorated with golden studs and closed by a small golden padlock, similar to those already adorning Angel. The snick of the lock closing seemed especially loud in the echoing garage, signifying an undeniable change in status for Huntress. Next, I added ankle restraints in matching leather, also fastened by golden padlocks, but these I didn't close. "Turn around and put your arms behind your back," I ordered. Huntress complied, though she tried to look back over her shoulder at the item I was removing from the package. "Keep your eyes to the front," I demanded. She snapped to something like attention, her head up, shoulders back and square. "That's better," I complimented her. Then I took the next item from the package, provoking an astonished gasp from Angel who could see it. Huntress twitched as though she had started to turn around again, but caught herself with only the smallest of motions so I let it pass. She was learning, and that was sufficient, for now. The item was an armbinder in stiff red leather, and I held it under one arm as I made Huntress clasp her hands behind her back. Then I slid the armbinder on over her hands, wrapping it around her arms up almost to her shoulders. The eyelets of the armbinder were the fast-lacing kind that are really small hooks, so I was able to quickly string the laces up to the top, then began to pull out some of the slack. I knew that an armbinder could be too intense for extended periods, especially for someone new to the experience, so I didn't tighten it very much, just snug enough to give her a constant reminder of her status, and to pull her shoulders back even more sharply. "There, that should keep your posture proud and upright," I declared. The last item in the package for Huntress was a golden chain like the one that Angel wore, except much shorter since it only had to reach from the ring at the tip of the armbinder down to her ankles, where it split into a matching twelve-inch hobble. I quickly fastened the chain into the open locks on her ankles and a similar one on the armbinder and Huntress was completely, inescapably bound. She was more shocked than excited at the moment, her face red with embarrassment rather than the boundless joy and pride on Angel, but her nipples were still obviously erect, obviously excited. "Now remember, Angel, you are innocent and pure. Huntress, you are a barely contained hunting bitch, responsive and obedient only to me. Think of your armbinder as the equivalent of a muzzle on a wolf, to keep you from attacking someone. Now let's see, what else?" While I was looking at the remaining items in our treasure trove, I watched Huntress absorb her role. A sneer of power appeared on her lips, twisting them into a challenge. She allowed the hunting look back into her eyes, but transformed it somehow from a woman hunting for sex into an animal hunting for food, meat, something to devour. It was magnificent, shocking in such a powerful way that I dropped out of character for a moment. "Billie Jo, that's outstanding! You're perfect!" I cried, then struggled back into my dominatrix persona. "I mean, very good Huntress, see that you remember your place." I drew forth the domino masks, first working the elastic band for mine under my waves of lustrous hair, then placing it over my eyes. I had a small mirror in the trunk and checked the arrangement, pleased to see that the vibrant colors highlighting my eyes showed beautifully. Angel was next, the white mask easily placed around her upswept hair style, then Huntress received her red mask. Finally, I added the leashes, golden chains similar to those binding their arms and legs, except fastened to their collars with a simple hook. I wrapped the loose ends of their leashes around my gloved hand, the gold shining in bright contrast to my tight, black leather gloves, and checked our appearance one last time. Individually we were beautiful. Angel innocent in white and gold, happy and excited at her outing, unaware that there could be any other condition than servitude, existed only to please her owner. Huntress was intense in red, hungry and restless, untamed except through an uncompromisingly greater force of personality that she could respect, only found in her owner. I was in control in black, powerful and confident, my towering thigh-high boots reinforcing rather than contradicting my elegant appearance as they declared I would set my own style and let others copy it, rather than copy the look of lesser women. Together, as a trio, we were matchless, unsurpassed in beauty and in persona, defining at a new higher level the entire concept of mistress and slave. I closed the trunk, revealing ourselves to the other partygoers still making their way to the entrance, and walked forward, pulling my slaves behind me on their leashes. The hobbles restricting their ankles, coupled with the towering heels we all wore, forced our strides to be shorter than an ordinary walk. They scurried to keep up, but I sauntered casually along, allowing the flowing waves of my long, silky hair to highlight the graceful sway of my orbiting hips. As other partygoers saw us, conversations stopped in mid word, motion stopped in mid stride, and a path was cleared for us to the entrance to the party. My first inclination had been to adopt a demanding, dissatisfied attitude to show that no one could reach my uncompromising standards, but I realized that this would imply a mistake on my part for coming to the party, since of course the slaves would have had no say in the decision. Therefore I realized that I should be amused rather than complaining and adopted the cool smile that so often reduced men to incoherence. When we reached the registration table, I paid the entry fee for the three of us, but took a single registration card and signed it only as Raven + 2, without listing the names of my slaves. "I'm sorry, but you must put down their names as well," the man behind the table informed me. He wore a name tag labeled "Master Simon" but he was hardly dominant, short and fat, completely out of shape. Surely Ran had not been that bad, even before we started on our strange odyssey. "Really? I don't believe there is much that I must do," I declared, allowing the coolness of my smile to reach a frozen ice intensity, determined to establish my dominance of all situations we encountered. "No one will speak to my slaves without my permission," I continued, "and my slaves will not speak unless it is my desire that they do so. Their names are unnecessary." "Your pardon, mistress," the man replied. "No one will speak to slaves without permission. It is for the judging. Each participant is allowed to vote for the best master or mistress and for the best slave. The winners get a thousand dollar prize taken from the entry fees and the name tags allow others to know whom to vote for. You should have an excellent chance at the prizes, if you choose to participate." "Ah, now I understand. I do allow my slaves to earn money for me. By all means, tag them. This is Angel, and this is Huntress." Name tags were pinned to the thin material of the slave dresses, the slaves helpless in their bonds as I added a tag to my own lapel. I noticed that one of Simon's hands was beginning to wander down from where he had placed the name tag on Angel toward her spectacular tits with their obviously protruding nipples. Angel's eyes showed a building panic, not wanting to be fondled by this unattractive stranger but helpless to stop him. I grabbed his wrist in my free hand, using the masculine strength I truly possessed regardless of how feminine I looked to clamp down on his pudgy arm. "Keep your paws to yourself, dog!" I demanded. "No hand feeds my slaves but mine. No hand caresses my slaves but mine. No one pleasures my slaves but me, unless I allow them to pleasure each other. Is that clear?" I had spoken in a loud enough voice that all those near the table could hear, especially since my trio had been the magnet for all eyes since we had entered the hall. My demand was not limited to Simon and my question was intended for all as a means to protect Angel and Huntress from unwanted advances. It worked beautifully, the titters of the crowd confirming that my comments had spread throughout the assembly. While I had been talking, I had also been squeezing Simon's wrist tightly enough to make his fingers show red from the restriction on his circulation. Now I dropped it, wiping my gloved hand on the tablecloth covering the registration table as though to rid it of a particularly disgusting slime. Simon clutched his throbbing wrist in his other hand and seated himself again behind the table, blushing furiously, thoroughly cowed. Then I laughed to release the tension. "Besides, if you tried that on Huntress, your fingers would provide her dinner. It is for your own safety as well as for their proper training that I restrict access to my slaves." With that we strolled into the main part of the hall. Just inside the doorway, there was a slave tied to a post, her wrists chained closely to a leather belt, her hands holding a tray of champagne. In order to elevate the tray to a convenient height for the partygoers, the server wore platform shoes with heels even higher than those worn by my slave girls and myself. Though I had learned to walk easily and gracefully in towering heels, I wouldn't have wanted to try those platforms which must have been at least eight inches high, plus the added height of the heel. However, the tray was now conveniently placed and I nonchalantly took a glass of champagne, as though the sight of the bound woman were completely unremarkable. After a sip or two I turned to Angel and offered the glass to her lips, giving her a small swallow. Huntress received her sip next. Our eyes met and for just an instant the wild, intense look was replaced with both pleased excitement and gratitude. She was clearly reveling in her role. I whispered quietly to her, "Doing okay? That armbinder's not too tight, is it?" Her eyes told me that she was fine, then resumed the angry hunger of a barely controlled predator. A glance at Angel returned the same assurance, though her bonds were much less severe so I had not really been worried about her. We strolled through the assembly, remaining the focus of all eyes, stilling conversations we approached, provoking intense, whispered comments as we passed. Whenever I felt like drinking or nibbling on the refreshments held by the distribution of tightly-bound slaves, I would negligently offer some to my slave girls as though it were merely a training regimen, not intended to provide them any relief or pleasure. Still, they received as much and as varied a fare as I did. Again, the inversion of roles appeared, where my slaves were being served by their mistress. We passed displays of bondage devices ranging from those with so little restriction on movement that they were merely symbolic, to those that appeared so painful they made me uncomfortable just to look at them. I watched my slaves to see if any items were especially interesting to them, but we saw nothing better than the choices I had made. Prominent among the many booths was a slave block, complete with bound slaves and a large For Sale sign. There were both men and women chained to the block, each wearing a short gray tunic slit to the navel. I paused to regard the slaves at the block as though contemplating a purchase, which offered an opportunity for another dominance battle. A tall man dressed in leather, his shirt open almost to his own waist to reveal a number of gold chains approached me. His attitude was almost a parody of the stud patrol member who had approached Billie Jo when she was just beginning to come out of her shell. The beard that covered a hint of sag at his chin and the careful looseness of his shirt were inadequate attempts to conceal his deteriorated physique and it became immediately apparent that he was hunting for a slave out of need, since he had lost his ability to acquire companionship out of desirability. "How much for that blonde slave?" he asked. "It's not for sale," I curtly replied, reading his tag to see his assumed name, Master Ajax. "I'm serious. I'll pay you a couple of thousand for her, or name your own price," he demanded. "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself," I dismissed his demand and turned away. Huntress warned me of his continued advance with a low, wordless growl just before I felt his hand on my shoulder. My mind flashed through my options. I couldn't continue to argue with him without destroying the cool superiority of my character and I certainly couldn't get into a drawn-out fight while wearing high heels. All it would take would be one good pull on my hair and I would be completely revealed, while if he knocked me down and my brief skirt flew up I would be just as completely unmasked. Even as I decided how to respond, a part of my mind was noting with surprise how much playing a character can begin to control your actions, the typical, softly feminine manner in which I would normally react covered over by the dominatrix attitude I had adopted for the evening. I slammed my fist directly into his crotch, sending him sprawling on the floor clutching at his damaged jewels. In an instant, my heel was at his throat, the spiked length a serious threat. Ajax froze once his pain subsided enough to let him recognize his predicament. "No one lays hands on me!" I announced, letting the cool amusement of my smile transform into cold anger, my midnight blue eyes now glinting with dark ice, frigid, uncompromising, showing a window into the darkest, coldest hell ever imagined. "Listen to me, worm," I said quietly, the menace in my tone bringing shocked looks to all who could hear. "You're not worthy of an honorable name like Ajax, let alone of master status. I will offer you your last free choice. Either leave this place immediately, or strip and join the slaves on the block. In either case, remove that inappropriate and undeserved name tag." With my heel at his throat, he had no real choice. He slowly removed the tag, handing it to me. I let a sneer curl my lip to indicate my disdain for his offering and he dropped it to the floor. Then I stood back and brushed my free hand through my hair in a slow, sensual gesture, signaling that the power I had displayed had excited me, but that I was completely in control of my own emotions and body, demonstrated by not even needing to drop the leashes of my slaves as I dispensed with an unwelcome advance. The ex-Ajax stood up carefully, still bent over with the residual pain in his crotch, and slid warily away toward the exit. The audience burst into applause, slaves who could not clap their bound hands cheering with appreciation, those that weren't gagged at least. My own slaves began to cheer as well. "Oh, Milady Raven," Angel called. "You are so wonderful." The call from Huntress was more of a growl of pleasure than articulate words, but her eyes shone with excitement. "Next time, Huntress," I said, directing my comments to her to demonstrate I appreciated her perfect, in-character response, "I will let you handle any scum who approach too closely. You need the practice more than me. I'm more of a man than that worm, but you might find it useful to have another sparring partner." My smiling declaration of manhood, at least relative to the vanquished intruder, shocked my slave girls but the very audacity of it prevented anyone else from even considering the truth beneath the boast. Their mouths hung open for a second, then smiles lit up their faces at the secret we shared together even in the midst of the crowd. Angel's smile reinforced the sunlight she carried with her at all times, but the smile that lit the face of Huntress provided a blend of pleasure and respect that declared to all those that saw it her intense worship for the one being who could master her. For a moment, I imagined I saw a true respect within that gaze, not caused by the role she played, but she was so excellent an actress that I couldn't be sure. After that incident, the voting for best master or mistress was merely a formality. I had it in the bag. Those who had witnessed the incident spread the word throughout the gathering, the story growing with each telling until it seemed I was some sort of Kung Fu expert who had dispatched my assailant with lightning, head-high kicks though I wore those incredible heels and tight skirt. It seemed that each master or mistress in the hall needed to talk with me about technique or ask for guidance while their slaves whispered to my slaves with tones of envy. The time flew by and my feet began to hurt from the extended time without rest. I couldn't really sit down while Angel and Huntress were bound, though, since their bonds were too restrictive for them to rest as well and for all that I was really into my dominatrix role, still they were my lovers and I wouldn't provide myself with pleasures that would keep me from staying attuned with their condition. I had about decided to leave when a loud voice came over the speakers. "Masters and Mistresses, could I have your attention please. Keep your slaves quiet as well, if you would, while we announce the winners of tonight's contest. As those of you who regularly attend our parties know, we typically identify the top three places for both Master or Mistress and for slaves, based on your votes. The third place winner gets a free entry into our next party for both owner and slave, two if the same pair has won both contests. The second place winners receive free admission for a year, including admission at the parties of organizations with which we share our interests. Finally, the first place winners each receive a thousand dollars, which we hope will be used, in part, to provide entrance to our future contests." The speaker was the inadequate 'Master Simon' who had tried to fondle Angel when we entered. His slave was an overweight woman, dressed in a too-tight outfit and bound with simple handcuffs. It appeared they wanted to be part of this type of gathering, but had neither the creativity nor the physiques to carry it off. Nonetheless, they must have been willing to contribute the time to organize it, so they were allowed their moment of glory. "After we compiled the votes this evening," he continued, "we found an unprecedented situation. With the exception of a very few ballots which the judges are declaring to be spoiled and invalid, every vote for master or mistress has been cast for a single person. For best slave, there is essentially a tie, with all votes shared equally between two slave women. Can you guess who the winners are?" With his question, a cheer went up from the crown, which began to chant, "Raven! Raven!" then added "Angel! Huntress!" as the second part of the vote was considered. Some of those around us moved to shake our hands, or clap us on the back, until a warning growl from Huntress reminded them that we did not allow others to touch us. The crowd surged back and a path opened up for us to the podium, where Simon waited with a couple of handfuls of money. However, when we reached the steps leading up to the dais, Huntress gave a small whine of dismay, and Angel stopped, causing a tug at the leash. "Milady Raven," Angel cried softly, "we cannot climb these stairs in our bonds." I was frantically trying to figure out a solution, when a couple of mistresses nearby recognized the problem and offered to help. They unhooked the leashes on their masculine slaves who quickly moved forward, ready to lift Angel and Huntress in their arms but waiting for my permission to touch them. I nodded, then mounted the stairs myself, careful not to reveal the secret hidden beneath my skirt. In a moment, we were on the stage. The crowd cheered happily, lifted by the demonstration in reality of an ideal that had previously only existed in their fantasies. After a few minutes of bedlam, Simon waved his arms to get the partygoers to quiet down. "Since this situation has never occurred before, the officials in your organization have decided on a special prize. First, the cash awards have been increased to $1500 since there are no second or third place prizes to be awarded. Angel and Huntress will have to share their award, but we all recognize it is really Milady Raven's prize anyway. Second, we are awarding Milady Raven free lifetime admission to our parties, throughout the country, along with any slaves she wishes to bring. All you slaves out there that like to come to these occasions might want to see if Milady Raven is taking on any new trainees." At this, offers flew up from the crowd. I noticed that even several of the mistresses were offering to become my slaves, and it seemed like nearly every male in the audience wanted to please me. Certainly all of the slaves were excited at the idea, for once not reprimanded by their owners at speaking without explicit permission. I let the enthusiasm build for a few minutes, the look of cool amusement holding on my face as though this adulation was only to be expected, then I reached for the microphone from Simon, who surrendered it immediately. Even before I began to speak, the crowd quieted, anxious to hear what I had to say. "Sorry," I began, my dominant smile showing no sorrow at all, "I'm not taking on any additional slaves . . . at this time." My announcement caused an initial groan, then a resurgence of interest as I dangled the hook of possible future opportunity. "Besides," I continued, "I haven't seen anyone here tonight that is in the same class as either Angel or Huntress. If I allowed them to speak, they could tell you of unimaginable changes in their lives since our relationship began," at this, my slaves nodded enthusiastically, "but they were incredibly sensuous, vibrant, HOT women before we started. You'll need to work on your own attitudes before you will be worthy of training." With that I handed Simon the microphone, took the cash, and moved back toward the steps, my slaves trailing behind me on their leashes. Their hobbled, scurrying steps reinforced the graceful sway of my own beautiful form and a hush fell over the crowd as though they were in the presence of a legend. I expected that they were. The story of our appearance would undoubtedly circulate through the bondage parties for years to come, whether we ever appeared to reinforce it or not. The slaves who had helped Angel and Huntress to the stage reappeared to carry them down, forestalling an army of strong-limbed men who had wanted to take their places. As soon as my slave girls were on the floor of the hall their helpers stepped back and I began to saunter toward the exit, haughtily disdaining any and all comments tossed in from the sides of the aisle that had cleared for us. We were escorted all the way to our car, so I couldn't release Angel and Huntress from their bonds entirely. I merely released them from their ankle hobbles to allow them to sit, their arms still fastened behind them, placed the seat belts around them, then moved to the driver's seat and entered myself. When I started the car, the crowd moved back to provide us room and in a few minutes we were out of the parking lot. Chapter 25 - Raven Rules "Goodness, it feels good to get off my feet," I exclaimed as we pulled out of the parking garage. "How are you two doing?" "Fine, Milady Raven," Angel replied. Huntress merely nodded, the wild, excited look still in her eyes, the hard buttons of her nipples still showing through the thin slave dress. I was about to offer to find some place to stop and remove the rest of their bonds, ending the fantasy role-playing, but something in the intensity of the look Huntress wore stopped me. Instead, I stayed in character. "Huntress," I ordered, "tell me your impressions of this evening's adventure." "I have never been so excited, so intensely alive, so totally free in my life," she declared. "When you decked that pig I wanted to attack him on your behalf. If I'd been unbound, I would have. I would have clawed his eyes out and bitten his nose off. Never have I realized how much I have had to stifle my innate drives in our society. Tonight, for the only time in my life, I could give in to them and allow them to course through my body, relying on your control and my bondage to replace the self-control I could release. It was incredible! I never wanted it to end." "Wow!" I breathed. "That's pretty intense. Are you okay? I would have thought that binder was hurting your arms and shoulders by now." "The adrenaline that's been flowing through me, still is for that matter, keeps the discomfort bearable. In fact, it heightens the experience, since it constantly reminds me of the lengths you need to go to in order to keep me under control. It's wonderful." "Angel, what about you?" I asked, wondering if she had enjoyed the experience as well. "I want to go back, and go again, and do this as often as possible," she proudly declared. "Did you see the way everyone was looking at me? I have never felt so desirable in all my life, even though I know how much you want me. Hundreds of people were positively drooling after me, wanting the pure innocence I projected for themselves. Thanks to you, Milady Raven, when you were Brandy, you showed me that I can be truly attractive, even sensuous, but I wondered if your own desire was typical. Tonight I could feel the need of those who looked at me, knowing that it was my body they wanted since as a slave my mind was irrelevant. I have never felt so alive, so beautiful, as when that man demanded to buy me!" "But you, Milady Raven, you were incredible. So powerful, so confident, so perfect!" she continued. "I never knew you had it in you." "I didn't either," I admitted. "But the character took me over just like Brandy took over Ran. While I was in there, I was dominant and would allow no rivals. It's a good thing we took extra care with my own hidden binding, tonight, because I was HOT!" "That's a fact," breathed Huntress. "All night I wanted to be taken to bed by you, forced to pleasure you, forced to accept pleasure from you. I need you, Milady Raven!" "Me, too," Angel confirmed. "Make me your love slave for the night. Please. I need you so!" Their scent was filling the car again, flooding from each of them and feeding on the heated breath we were all expelling. I tried to decide on a suitably intense fulfillment of their expressed desire. The key feature tonight had been public exposure as slaves. We could always go back to our house and use the bungees in our bedroom, but that was not the scenario for tonight. It would have to be public, or at least risk becoming public. Yet it had to be compatible with hobbles and high heels. After a few minutes thought, the idea came to me. The lonely hilltop rest area where Tanyon had attacked me would make a dangerously exposed place for sex. Especially if we decided to visit the little convenience store on the way to buy something, just for the excuse to get out of the car in public. The slaves still wore their masks, as I did, and we might look like robbers if we went in wearing them, so they would have to be removed, revealing our real identities within the store. With that plan in mind, I resumed my Raven personality at full force. The first step in my new plan was to pull of the freeway at a deserted rest stop. I got out of the car and stepped around to the door where Angel was sitting, in the back seat on the passenger side. With my help, she was soon out of the car and standing on her high heels. I reattached the hobble chain, which left her unable to bend over, then removed her white domino mask. Though I was not nearly as strong as Rocky, nor even the men who had lifted these slave girls onto stage at the party, I was still plenty strong enough to lift Angel. I put one hand behind her knees and one behind her back and lifted her up. As I bent her legs forward at the waist, her ankles were drawn back by the chain from her wrists and neck. When I placed her in the seat again, I turned her so that her heels rested on the seat rather than the floorboard, providing room for her knees. She couldn't stretch her legs out, but she was now completely bound again and seated. In a moment, the seat belt was again about her waist, trapping her bound arms behind her and it was Huntress's turn. I repeated the process with her, running the chain from the ring on her red armbinder to her ankles. The flaring excitement and intense energy in her eyes was even more noticeable when her own mask was removed, then I pulled her around to the opposite side into the back seat behind the driver. She was fastened in place facing Angel, now also fully bound but able to sit in the car. Then I removed my own mask and started driving again. As I expected, raising their heels to the level of their seats had caused the tiny skirts of the slaves dresses to fall back into their laps, revealing their mounds. Huntress, as she had told us once upon a time, was shaved smooth while Angel had a delicate blonde fringe. Though they had seen and loved each other before, the display they provided to each other in the car was more public and more forced since they could not move away and it made them more vulnerable in their exposure. Any trucker driving along might also get a direct look at them, though the darkness would actually hide them quite well. The road to the hillside rest area was on our way and we reached it in much less than the hour it would have taken to get all the way home. When we arrived at the convenience store, the same matronly lady was attending the counter. She might even remember me, probably would in fact, but that was part of the public aspect of the visit. We would not be totally anonymous this time. I parked the car and lifted each slave out in turn, not attaching their leashes this time, but leaving them bound. "All right," I said, "you can each pick out one drink, though you won't get to drink it, yet." With that I swung into the store, leaving them standing. The automatic door opened before me and I proceeded to shop among the merchandise, ignoring them completely. After a second of shocked surprise, they followed me into the store, scurrying with short, hobbled steps. The matronly operator came out from behind her counter, demanding an explanation. "What's going on here?" she tried to ask Huntress. Her only reply was a disdainful snarl. When she repeated her question to Angel, she received only silence. Finally, I walked over to her. "We want to buy something to drink," I explained, as though there were nothing else significant to comment on. "What are those girls doing wearing chains?" she asked. "And what's that thing on that one girl's arms?" "They're shopping," I replied simply. "Huntress is wearing an armbinder, to improve her posture and keep her out of trouble. Now, we'll be making our selections and leaving, if you're through with your questions." "Release them at once," the kindly, confused lady demanded. "Do you want to be released?" I asked my slaves. "No, Milady Raven," they chorused. "Then there's no problem, is there?" I asked the matron, letting strength into my voice to stop her questions. She retreated behind the counter, still looking darkly at me and wonderingly at the bound women. The slave girls indicated their soft drink selections, I added my own, and then we returned to the car. Again I lifted each into her seat, letting the brief skirt fall back to expose them, now more noticeable under the lights of the convenience store parking lot. It was only a few minutes' drive and we were back to the hillside rest area, not surprisingly deserted at the late hour. Unlike the visit to the convenience store, this time when I lifted the slaves from the car, I attached their leashes. They followed me down the slight slope to the area with the park bench, the scene of my long ago degradation. I had in mind repeating, at least symbolically, Tanyon's attack on me, but with the crucial difference of willingness on the part of the slaves, and with love among us all. In this way, I hoped to bury my rape under a new experience of sensual, mutual pleasure. When we arrived at the bench, I tied off their leashes, then removed my own jacket. My snug leather miniskirt followed, revealing the tape that bound my own raging erection into obscurity. This followed, then my thong bikini and my sword leaped into the night air, anxious and hunting for prey. I stood there before my slaves, wearing my shiny black corset and thigh-high boots, my hair tumbling in liquid waves to my waist, a few strands idly waving in the delicate evening breeze. That breeze provided me with an idea, and I reached to each slave to pull the halter top down over her shoulders. The split design, open to the navel anyway, easily went around their arms, leaving their hard nipples exposed to the cool night air. "Huntress, I believe it might benefit you to nurse Angel for a while," I commented casually. This invitation, or at least permission, was all that she needed. In a flash, she was sucking at Angel's erect nipples, biting with more intensity than Angel was used to. However, I let them go without comment, expecting that the pain to Angel was minor and recognizing that this attack was correct for the persona of Huntress. It is always possible to stimulate milk production, though it takes a prolonged period of attempted nursing to achieve it except immediately after childbirth. Kelly and I had played around with the idea of starting her flow and had dedicated fifteen or twenty minutes to it, several times a day over the last week. I hadn't really thought of using Huntress in that role until I saw Angel so delightfully exposed, but it seemed like a natural follow on to my own endeavors. I was surprised however, when Angel actually started to flow a little, so was Huntress. She lifted her head, a drop of milk visible on her lips, a look of pleased wonder on her face. Since I was nominally in charge of this circus, I decided I had the right to take advantage of the efforts of my slaves, so I stopped Huntress before she could resume. "That will do, Huntress, now stand quietly for a moment." I bent to my golden blonde slave and started sucking intently at her flaring nipple. The flow was slight, here at the start, and thin but still definitely milk, warm and triggering a sense of nourishment from before conscious memory. I indulged myself for a little while at her first nipple, then set myself the pleasant task of teasing flow from the second, a task which succeeded after a few energetic minutes. Throughout this experience Angel had been breathing heavily, caught up in the rapture of this new pleasure. This one we would repeat. "Now, slaves, which of you will I use first?" I mused, my eyes warning them that I did not want any suggestions and that they should therefore be silent. Nonetheless, each one begged to be used first with their expressions, desire and need wafting strongly from each. I sat at the bench and idly played with the leashes, teasing them about my choice, finally selecting one to pull loose. "Come, Huntress, you look hungry tonight. Feast on me for a while," I directed as I pulled her by her leash to stand in front of me. A downward pressure and she carefully squatted to her knees, maintaining her balance in part by leaning back against the pressure at her collar. Once she was down, I ran the chain of her leash between my legs and under the bench. "Wait just a minute, Huntress," I said, then untied Angel's leash as well. I pulled her around behind the bench so that she faced over my shoulder toward the kneeling red-clad slave, and then led Huntress's leash between Angel's legs as well, putting the end of Huntress's leash into Angel's bound hands behind her back. "Angel, you will set the pace and depth for Huntress tonight. Pull on her leash as necessary to guide her to her duty." With that I leaned back, cradling my head between Angel's beautiful tits and relaxed in expectation of my slave girls' attention. Angel immediately began to work the end of the leash through her hands until the tension began to draw Huntress toward the tip of my sword. As soon as she was within reach, Huntress began to lick at my erection, caressing the tip and then the base with her moist tongue. I'm not sure if Angel wanted to keep Huntress from doing too good a job, or was just so excited herself that her time sense was distorted, but it seemed that Huntress had hardly begun to lick at me when Angel tugged sharply on