Worthy of a Master: The Tale of a Perfect Slave

by Chelsea Shepard

  Eventually, we managed to assemble two sets of bleachers, giving us thirty seats in total.

  "Are we going to have so many guests?" I asked. Myhre and Jova were always hanging around with the same six or seven people, most of them working in the geology department with them. I was surprised she would invite so many people.

  "Absolutely. I want a real audience. I've invited people we hardly know. That will make it more interesting."

  I got tense.

  "Did you invite Khiru?"

  "No. I know better than to make you uncomfortable for the whole evening. I don't think he remembers Jova's birthday, so I doubt he'll notice he's missing a party."

  His presence would certainly have spoiled the fun for me. Thankful and relieved, I felt my impatience grow.

  "What do we do next?"

  "We build the cage."

  "Huh?"

  "I don't know if these barriers qualify as a cage," she said as she removed thin fences from the storage room, "but our imaginations will create the illusion."

  We brought the pieces of fencing together and our open-air cage soon took up the entire surface of the arena.

  When I'd seen the setting, I thought Myhre had planned a pony show, a classic theme for fetishists on Earth. With the cage, other animals came to mind. Remarkably, the setting now looked like a circus on Earth!

  "Now I need a few toys and accessories, but I can pick them up later at the bondage equipment store. In the meantime, we can arrange the food counter and the dressing room. Megan, could you go to the cafeteria and bring back glasses and plates for everyone?"

  When I returned with the requested goodies, Myhre had set up a table alongside a wall and adorned it with a festive cloth. A dozen bottles of soda sat on it. After putting the glasses and plates next to them, I glanced inside the cabin, which she had converted into a dressing room. Her jacket and corset were suspended from a hanger. Her boots stood proudly on the floor below them. On the table was Jova's costume, confirming my hunch about the forthcoming scene. Finally, next to the table stood the most impressive whip I'd ever seen. My heartbeat quickened.

  "Are you going to use this whip on him?"

  "Not much. The whip's really for show. I've got something better to work with."

  Jova was a Southie who, I learned, was also a pain addict. When he was far gone into subspace, pain was enough to make him come. It had been a whole new challenge for Myhre, whose first lifepartner was only interested in submission and discipline. With Jova, she had to work harder to satisfy his needs. She had learned to use every kind of whip and flogger, knew all the tricks of penis torture, and had started studying how to play with knives.

  But as Jova's endurance strengthened, it was increasingly difficult for Myhre to find new ways of torturing him while remaining on the safe side. The number of implements she could use was limited. Instead, she created special scenes where they could both play a role.

  For his upcoming birthday, Myhre was trying to incorporate both aspects. She had set up the arena show and found a new toy to play with. But since it was their first experience with the device, she needed to take serious precautions and intended to use a brain controller, or "beecee."

  "Is that a headband?" I asked, remembering the ones I'd already seen in Khiru's hand back on Earth and during a scene in the Cabaret.

  "Yes. Jova will be gagged and severely bound, therefore unable to signal any distress. With the controller around his head, I can read important signals in his brain, in particular those indicating fear, pain and pleasure. I know exactly what he's going through. If the level of pain is too high, or if the level of pleasure is close to zero, then I will stop the scene, or at least do something else. It's a wonderful way to bring a Southie to his or her limits without the fear of going too far."

  "Do you use it for every scene?"

  "Only when we try something new, or when Jova asks for it. Under normal circumstances, I can interpret sighs and groans well enough. Like most Southies, Jova doesn't like beecees. I limit their use to extreme situations."

  "Why doesn't he like them? Can you read his thoughts?"

  "Of course, not. But when used on their highest setting, controllers capture very sensitive waves and reveal more intimate emotions. Southies are not comfortable with that, and most Northies respect their partner's right for privacy and don't spy on personal feelings."

  I told Myhre about the Cabaret scene; how the girl looked like she was screaming, although no sound came out of her mouth.

  "Yes, " she explained, "speech is one of the functions you can inhibit, but only with high-end beecees."

  "What else can you control?"

  "Movements, I think, but I don't really know. I was never into brain control. It's a technique you must practice for years before you master it. Personally, I prefer the physical act of gagging or binding someone with ropes versus using brainwaves. It's more aesthetically pleasing. But enough talking," she said after checking her mediapin, "time's getting short."

  We completed the decoration of the room with a podium where Myhre expected me to greet the guests and showed them to their seats.

  Then she mentally checked her list and seemed satisfied with her preparations. After being asked to come back one hour before the party, I was dismissed. Myhre still needed to go to the hardware store, but would ask an assistant to help carry the implements back to the Spectacle room.

  When I returned at the appointed time, I heard Myhre talking to Jova in the cabin by the door. Before joining them, I observed the accessories she had installed in the cage during my absence. Six wooden bars had been inserted at different levels through the fences forming the cage. The lowest bar was set at ankle level, while the highest one reached my waist. From a hook on top of one fence hung two open hoops, reminding me of the shape of a horseshoe. One was larger than the other, and they both had their upper halves wrapped in foam. Finally, a long bench, padded in red leather, was positioned in the center of the cage.

  It was time to meet Jova and find out what he made of all this.

  I stepped into the dressing room and almost stumbled into the very person I was concerned about. Jova was kneeling in the doorway, his hands resting on his thighs, his head up high. He was wearing his costume: orange fur with khaki spots extending from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Matching mittens, thick but flexible, covered his feet and his hands. The rest of his body was naked. He looked calm, but he had a hard-on. Poor man, it would be hours until he would get relief.

  Myhre was sitting on the table in front of Jova. It was too bad he had a blindfold over his eyes and couldn't see her. She was wearing her new corset and boots, their chic glamour enhanced by a silver collar and nipple jewels. She looked magnificent.

  Satisfied with my admiration, she smiled.

  "I'm glad you're here," Myhre said. "I was just telling Jova about the scene. Apparently, he approves of his new status in life."

  Jova nodded. A muscle flinched under his naked shoulder, a sign of growing tension.

  "I suppose he's some sort of feline?" I asked.

  "Yes, a tropical mambo, a ferocious meateater, four times the size of a man, and he doesn't hesitate to attack a hunter when he's hungry, or simply in the mood. But today we shall tame the beast."

  She turned to Jova and stared at his hidden eyes.

  "I want you to listen to me very carefully. I will be very demanding of you tonight. You will need to be strong, not only for me, but also for all our friends. When you think I'm done, I will have only begun. In fact, the most difficult moment will come at the end, when you'll want to beg me to stop. That's when the pain will start, my love. A kind of pain we have never played with."

  She paused for effect.

  Jova dug his fingers into his thighs and breathed louder. His penis rose a little higher.

  "Since this will be a new experience, we'll use a beecee."

  Jova groaned his discontent, but Myhre expected it.

  "I know you don't like it, bu
t I'm asking you this for my benefit. I won't feel comfortable if I don't know how far I can go and how well you take it. Trust me, I will only use the pain and pleasure readers. No other controls."

  Jova slumped in his position, indicating acceptance. I was amazed to observe his body language. Without the distraction of words, it was easy to translate his slightest movement into feelings or thoughts. It made me wonder whether a brain controller was indeed necessary to read his reactions. Then I remembered that Jova's movements would be severely limited during the scene. A moan would hardly suffice to indicate his true state of mind. How could a Northie tell the difference between a whimper of pleasure and pain? How did they know when the pain was enough or too much? On Earth, I had learned about safewords as a security system for submissives to signal a problem with words that couldn't be misinterpreted during a scene. Khyrians had perfected the art with brain controllers.

  The device Myhre fixed around Jova's head was much thinner and lighter than the one I'd seen in Khiru's hands. It looked like a band of studded velvet.

  "This is a low-end beecee," Myhre explained. "Only good for the limited use we need."

  "How does it work?"

  "When I turn it on, and I do that by pressing the tiny dot here, the diodes" – she indicated two studs on the band – "lighten up. There's one for pain, one for pleasure. The shade of the light indicates the intensity of the sensation: light blue means low, red means high. Then it's up to me make a decision.

  "There are better beecees with more controls, but I like this one. It's easy to handle, hardly noticeable, and doesn't interfere with any head restraints. Speaking of which, our guests will be here any minute now. We'd better get ready."

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  "Yes, help me with this."

  She produced a tangle of black straps from which a long piece of hard foam was jutting out.

  "Bad cat needs a gag. Open your mouth!" she commanded Jova, who immediately obeyed. Myhre's otherwise warm voice had turned sharp and stern. She was no longer Jova's lover. She was his mistress ready to tame him.

  Myhre inserted the foam into her pet's mouth and pulled two straps on the sides of his head.

  "Can you buckle these two? I'll hold the gag in place."

  Once I'd secured the first two straps as tightly as I could behind his ears, she fixed another pair above his head, then another one behind it, over the blindfold and the brain controller, and finally a last pair under his chin.

  "Try to spit it out," she ordered Jova.

  I watched his mouth strain to open. When a tiny portion of foam came out, Myhre tightened the straps. Jova tried again, but this time he was unable to get rid of the gag.

  "Good. Now, paws behind your back!"

  She cuffed his wrists with solid manacles that she chained to the wall behind him.

  "Ah, don't you feel better when the beast is safely secured?" she asked rhetorically. "Let's get out of here." She picked up her jacket and closed the door of the cabin behind us.

  "Are you sure you don't want to stay with him?" I asked, concerned about Jova's well-being.

  "No, he always needs a moment to himself before a scene. He calms down and slowly enters into character. It's like meditation."

  "Does he know about the cage and what he looks like?"

  "I blindfolded him before we entered the room, so he didn't see the cage, but I suppose the fur and the mittens were good clues about his character in the scene."

  "Will you leave him blindfolded during the whole show?"

  "No, he'll need his eyes. It'll be easier to maneuver him over the obstacles. Besides, he'll be impressed when he sees the cage and the audience."

  "Not to mention you in your splendid outfit."

  She blushed at the compliment.

  "You look pretty nice, too."

  Next to her glittering corset, my skirt and bustier seemed very humble, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself, so they suited the scene just fine. Even though I envied Myhre's boots, I was happy to run around in bare feet. It gave me a sense of nonchalance I rarely enjoyed. The only piece that was uncomfortable were the tiny lace panties I had decided to wear at the last minute. This invisible detail was an easy way to remind myself that I was a Southie and should act like one at the party.

  While Myhre checked the accessories inside the cage one last time, I sat on one of the seats in the terraces. Jova was not the only one who needed a break before the show. I, too, had to prepare myself for my first-ever kinky party.

  Chapter ELEVEN

  The guests started to arrive. Following Myhre's instructions, I stood by the welcoming desk and played hostess. My job was to check names off the guest list and show people to their seats.

  I noticed that Khyrians behaved differently in the Twilight than they did under normal circumstances. First, everyone dressed sexy, with resina and lilk being the most popular fabrics. Second, it was fairly easy to distinguish Southies from Northies as they all acted according to their tendency. In contrast to Northies, who were often exuberant, Southies were quiet and subdued. They kept their eyes down, either voluntarily or forcefully. Like the man whose head harness was linked to a similar contraption tied around his dick and who had to bend forward to avoid unbearable tension on his member.

  There weren't many couples – three or four at most – and I got the impression that the pairs coming into the room might not be the same pairs leaving after the show. The party was clearly an opportunity to let go and have fun.

  Although I identified a few persons I had met previously at the cafeteria and other public places, most of the people I greeted were strangers. I tried my best to smile despite my obvious nervousness.

  As could be expected from Khyrians, men outnumbered the female contingent. I counted four women, three of them dominant. I recognized the female Southie as Swomi, the girl who'd been stationed in the cave on Earth with Khiru and Naari. Instead of the boy who'd been flirting with her then, she was with a much older man, who was visibly pleased to be in such agreeable company. He was dressed in a long, impressive black cape, while she struggled in a blue hobble skirt.

  Swomi smiled when I greeted her. When I asked her how she'd been, she looked up at her friend and he answered for her. I didn't try to extend the conversation, as her freedom of speech was obviously restricted that night.

  When she walked away, I saw her ankles were chained together, which justified her funny walk more than the long, tight dress.

  As more and more men entered the room, the testosterone level grew noticeably strong. Although the male clan included submissives and gays, I found they all paid too much attention to my body. After checking my breasts under the transparent bustier, they stared at my ass while I led them to their seats. Then they commented on what they saw. Appreciative as they were, their hints and teases made me increasingly edgy.

  I thought I'd seen and heard it all when a new group of four men came in. One of them, a Northie, stood out. Although he was handsome in a conventional Khyrian way (tall, well-built, short brown hair, dark eyes and copper skin), his classic features were secondary to the oddest costume I'd seen on the spaceship.

  To my eyes, his outfit had a distinctive Renaissance look; a purple velveteen jacket buttoned from collar to knees emphasized his height, while its long sleeves, full at the shoulders and tapered to the wrists, made him look broader. Under the jacket, his blousy below-the-knee pants partly covered his black stockings. His elegant shoes gleamed as if he'd spent two hours polishing them.

  Far from being ashamed to be such a show-off, the guy liked the attention.

  Taking my eyes off him, I checked the four men's names off the list and led them to their seats. As I walked up the stairs, I felt a hand squeeze my bottom. I jerked away with a hiss, and turned around to face the Renaissance man.

  "An untamed freegirl. I like that!" he sneered while his friends laughed boisterously.

  Nice clothes, but no manners.

  "You'd better
not get too close to Lodel, Megan," one of them shouted at me. "If he catches you, he won't let go."

  Prolonged laughter followed me as I walked back to the desk at the entrance. For the first time, I hated how everyone felt acquainted with me before I could introduce myself. Did they think they could treat me so frivolously because they knew my name? And what kind of prick was this Lodel?

  At that moment, Naari entered the room, and I was relieved to find a friend in this threatening crowd. When he saw me, he gave me the sweetest smile.

  "You look so cute. Turn around for me."

  I did and gave my skirt an ample spin. The bracelets on my wrists and ankles jingled nicely.

  Naari's eyes shone with desire.

  "Don't go too far from me tonight," he said after a light kiss on my cheek and a squeeze around my waist. "There are too many prowlers around."

  "I've noticed," I said. "Even women stare at me as if I were prey."

  Naari looked at the noisy audience, then back at me.

  "You are prey, my dear. In popular fantasies, freegirls are wanton creatures who dare Northies to capture them. They like to resist and try to escape, but in the end, they make the most entertaining captives."

  As I stared at him, not quite believing my clothes were an open invitation to hit on me, he added:

  "You didn't know?"

  "Myhre mentioned something about wandering hands, but I had no idea I was practically putting myself on a plate."

  I made a note to complain to Myhre after the party. In the meantime, I'd have to defy all the predators around me.

  "Speaking of Myhre," Naari said, eager to change the subject, "where is she?"

  "She's in the cabin with Jova. They will start any minute now. Sit here." I showed him a central seat on the first row. "I'll join you after I take care of the last guests."

  A moment later, the main lights went out and a spotlight hit the cabin. Myhre came out first. With the light reflecting on her corset and jacket, she was quite the star. Smiling, but keeping a firm stance, she waited for the cheers to subside. Then she moved to the side, pulled on the leash in her hands, and revealed Jova to the crowd. He was wearing his fur and mittens, and walking on all fours. He looked more like a frightened kitten than a cruel feline. I also noted that Myhre had wrapped his penis in a shiny tube, with only the swollen tip coming out of it.