“Thank you!” Lizabeth was glad to wrap herself up and finally cover her nakedness. She wondered uneasily if Lone had seen how swollen her breasts were. It had seemed that he was keeping his eyes strictly above her chin but it was hard to tell what he had and hadn’t seen.
“Now that you’re cleansed and refreshed, do come into the clothing room. I have your robes all picked out.” Mistress Anarrah bustled the two of them into the small stone room at the end of the pool and Lizabeth was surprised to see that it was bigger than it had looked from the outside.
There were rows and rows of long white gowns and long black vests with different colored embroidery on them on one side of the room. On the other were rows of loose linen trousers, mostly in shades of black and dark green. There were shorter, broader vests too, which seemed to be made of some kind of leather.
“Here you are my dear.” Mistress Anarrah handed Lone a pair of black trousers and a black vest. “Those are fairly self-explanatory,” she said, as she took Lizabeth by the arm. “But I must help your Mistress into her robes for the first time. Come, dear,” she added and hustled Lizabeth to the far end of the long room where a white gown and a long black vest were laid out on a small wooden table. “Now try these on—I’m fairly certain I got your size right,” she said anxiously.
“Um…” Lizabeth looked at the clothing. “Aren’t there any, uh, underclothes to go with these?” she asked.
“Underclothes?” Mistress Anarrah shook her head. “Do you mean clothes you wear under your other clothes? Whyever would you do that? It would get in the way of the necessary greetings.”
“Okay, but…I’m just afraid I’m going to need support under this,” Lizabeth said, frowning at the white gown, which appeared to be made of some slinky, clinging material. “I’m forty-five so I’m not as firm as I used to be.” Although right now her breasts were so full and swollen it was barely an issue. Still, she didn’t like going without a bra and panties.
“Oh, I think you’ve firmed up considerably, my dear.” Mistress Anarrah’s pale blue eyes glowed with amusement. “You certainly spent enough time in the cleansing pool.”
Lizabeth shook her head. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“I mean, look at yourself, my dear. At the skin under your arms and your inner thighs—the flesh under your neck. All those pesky little places we females start to sag as time goes on.”
Still frowning, Lizabeth did as she said and looked under her right arm…then her left. What she saw astonished her. After she’d hit forty, the skin of her upper arms had begun to sag and it seemed that no amount of exercise could firm it up again. Now it was as smooth and firm as it had been back when she was in her twenties.
Eagerly, she felt under her chin—the skin there was firmer too! And when she reached between her thighs, she couldn’t feel an ounce of cellulite. She was still plus-sized but it was as though someone had gone over her entire body with some kind of age-defying serum and just kind of smoothed and tightened everything.
“Wow,” she whispered, looking at Mistress Anarrah. “How…what…?”
“The cleansing waters have firming properties,” the other woman answered, her eyes twinkling. “Though they cannot roll back the years, they can, at least, lessen their impact.”
Lizabeth stared at her in surprise. No wonder none of the Mistresses she’d met here had looked their age!
“But…that’s amazing,” she exclaimed. “When does it wear off?”
“The amount of time you were in the waters?” Mistress Anarrah pursed her lips and frowned, as though calculating. “I’d say it will last a good, long time—maybe even the rest of your life, my dear. Depending on the way your species ages and how long you live, that is.”
“Wow,” Lizabeth murmured again. Though she wasn’t vain, she suddenly wanted a mirror badly—wanted to know if the effects of the cleansing pool looked as dramatic as they felt.
“They also make you feel refreshed all over. I try to take a dip at least once a week myself, although I long ago reached the maximum efficacy of the waters. Now then,” Mistress Anarrah continued in a brisker tone. “I’m glad you like the effects of the pool but you really must get dressed now. We still have to do the oath, you know.”
“All right.”
Lizabeth felt so stunned she didn’t even ask what the oath was. She picked up the white dress without further protest and put it on. It wasn’t until she got it over her head and pulled it down that she realized there was a problem.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking down at herself as she got the dress into position. “I’m sorry, but this one has holes in it. Do you have moths here? Small insects that eat holes in fabric?” she added, explaining. “We have them on my home planet of Earth.”
Mistress Anarrah let loose with another tinkling peal of laughter.
“Oh my dear—no insects did that to the gown. It’s meant to be that way.”
“What?” Lizabeth looked blankly down at herself. “But…my, uh, nipples are sticking out,” she protested in a low voice. Indeed, both sore, aching tips were fully exposed. The holes in the white gown—which clung to her like a second skin—were large enough to show both nipples and the wide pink bands of her areolas. It looked positively obscene, especially considering how red her nipples were from her daily fights with the breast pump.
“Precisely,” Mistress Anarrah said, smiling. “Now let me see—do you have the bottom situated correctly? The slit must be right in the center.”
Lizabeth looked down and realized that the slinky white gown did indeed have a slit right up the center of it’s lower half—a slit which ran almost to her belly button. The moment she moved her legs, her bare pussy—which was thankfully neatly trimmed—was exposed.
“Hey!” she protested. “I can’t wear this!”
“Of course you can—it’s the uniform all of the Mistresses wear here at the Tower,” Mistress Anarrah said briskly. “But don’t worry about being exposed to all and sundry, my dear—that is what the modesty vest is for. Here—put it on.”
She helped Lizabeth put on the cape-like vest and fastened it with a broach similar to her own. Although it wasn’t actually a broach, Lizabeth saw, but a small, powerful magnet which kept the long black vest closed.
“I still feel kind of exposed under here,” she said, frowning. Her breasts were pushing at the black and white fabric that covered them and her tight, achy nipples were clearly visible, pressing against the vest. At least the material of the vest seemed to be soft and smooth so it wasn’t too painful but what if she started leaking nectar again? What then?
“You’ll be fine, my dear,” Mistress Anarrah promised. “Now let’s just do a little something with your hair…” She produced a kind of wand with a glowing pink end at its tip. As she waved it over Lizabeth’s hair—being careful not to actually touch her with it—Lizabeth felt her long, damp strands drying into their usual waves. Before she knew it, she was clean and dry all over, though still feeling a little strange about wearing the cut-out gown under the long black vest.
“There now—you look lovely,” Mistress Anarrah said approvingly. “Come—let’s not keep the Mistress Superior waiting any longer. “You may come now, Novice,” she added, looking over Lizabeth’s shoulder to speak to Lone. “Your Mistress is ready to hear your oath of love and loyalty to her.”
Oh—the oath! Suddenly Lizabeth remembered the strangely beautiful pledge that Lone had recited to her the day before when he had first proposed coming here to the Tower of the Higher Mind. That must be what they were talking about.
Well, at least he already has it memorized, she thought as Lone came to join them. That should make things easier.
“I’m ready, Mistress,” Lone said in his deep, quiet voice as he joined them. He looked spectacular in the clothing Mistress Anarrah had given him, Lizabeth thought. He was shirtless and the short, black leather vest emphasized his muscular chest and biceps.
The loose, silky black trous
ers he was wearing looked a little like pajama pants. They hung from his lean hips and were low enough to show the V of muscle that ran downward to his groin.
As she examined his clothing, Lizabeth realized he was also looking at hers. Had he seen the way her nipples were poking out, making tiny tents in the thin black fabric of the vest?
Maybe so because, as she watched, a much larger tent began to grow in the silky black trousers. Oh my God—was he getting hard? Because of her?
Lizabeth dragged her eyes away, feeling her cheeks get hot.
Don’t look! she ordered herself and yet her eyes kept flickering to his crotch of their own volition. One thing was for certain, Lone was big all over.
“Well now—you’re both ready so let’s go.” Mistress Anarrah clapped her hands, breaking the awkward silence. “This way, my dears,” she said and led them out of the clothing room and into a different part of the castle.
Nine
Lone told himself to stop staring at Lizabeth but she looked so beautiful in the new clothing provided by Mistress Anarrah he could hardly help himself. The silky white gown and thin black vest clung to the lush curves of her full hips and ass, making him ache to cup her there and hold her against him.
Just like you held her in the cleansing pools—naked and slippery and wet, whispered a hungry voice in his head. He remembered the feel of her full breasts against his chest and the brush of her soft little pussy against his hip before she’d pulled away. Gods, she was beautiful! Though he had tried his best not to look, he couldn’t help catching glimpses of her through the pink and blue waters.
But he wasn’t only aroused by her—he was also concerned. Her breasts were definitely larger than was normal for her. Were they filled with nectar again? But if they were, didn’t that mean Lizabeth was having a needing attack? And if she was, then why wouldn’t she ask him to help her?
Maybe for the same reason she pulled away in the pool—she doesn’t want you, whispered a dark little voice in his head. You’re just a loner without a twin to help you bond and she’s a beautiful, successful female. Maybe she only thinks of you as an assistant and a friend and wants to keep it that way.
But if she really was in needing she would have to ask for help soon, Lone thought, frowning. Even if she didn’t long for him the way he longed for her, she couldn’t take care of this problem on her own and he knew Lizabeth well enough to know she wouldn’t ask a stranger for such intimate assistance. She had always been a very private and modest person during the two years they had worked together. Besides, it wasn’t like she could ask for help when others, like Mistress Anarrah, were watching.
Maybe she’s waiting to ask me later? Or maybe not—maybe she lied about only having one needing attack and she’s found some way to deal with this on her own.
But how? And was she in pain right now? He remembered the way she winced when she’d accidentally touched her breasts. Every part of him ached to ease her pain—to take her sweet nipples in his mouth and suck and kiss and lave the tight little points with his tongue to help her feel better.
But of course he could do no such thing unless Lizabeth asked him. And he might be wrong—maybe her breasts had just increased in size after the original needing incident and this was their normal size now.
Reluctantly, Lone decided he would just have to wait and see—there was nothing else he could do.
The cleansing waters had soothed some of the ache from Lizabeth’s overfull breasts but as they walked, following Mistress Anarrah deeper into the Tower, they began to ache again.
Lizabeth tried to ignore the pain and studied the vast stone castle instead. They seemed to be passing out of the man-made part and into the part that had been carved naturally by the hot springs. The rooms were no longer regular in shape—instead of straight lines there were curves and swirls—bulges where there shouldn’t be and hollows deep enough to get lost in.
It was beautiful, Lizabeth thought, in a surreal kind of way. She felt like she was walking in a dreamscape that might change unexpectedly at any time.
At last they came to an especially large, echoing cavern whose walls were shining mineral deposits of rich purple, all scooped and rounded and polished by eons of water rushing against them.
It’s like being in the center of a geode.
Lizabeth looked all around her and saw that in the center of the room was a raised dais made of the same bronze metal that bound the doors and comprised the railing of the train. Mounted on the dais was a throne-like chair of the same metal and sitting on its padded crimson cushion was Mistress Verlandah.
The Mistress Superior looked supremely bored. She was tapping her long fingernails upon the bronze arm of the chair and frowning as though she had better things to do. Standing by her side was her Novice, Karx, but the two of them weren’t talking. There seemed to be an almost angry silence between them, Lizabeth thought, although she couldn’t say exactly why she thought that—it was more a feeling in the atmosphere of the huge, glittering chamber than anything concrete she could really put her finger on.
When Mistress Verlandah saw Mistress Anarrah approaching with Lone and Lizabeth she sat up straighter and scowled.
“What took you so long? You know they cannot be admitted until the oath has been given and accepted. I have more important matters to attend to!”
“My apologies, Mistress Superior.” Mistress Anarrah came to a stop before the bronze throne-chair and bowed low. “There was a bit of confusion at the cleansing pools but we got it all sorted out and here they are—all bathed and cleansed and ready to be admitted to the Tower as Mistress and Novice.”
“And about time, too,” Mistress Verlandah snapped. “Novice,” she said, beckoning to Lone. “Come here and kneel before me. And your Mistress must come to.”
They came and arranged themselves before the throne and then Mistress Verlandah had them turn so that they were facing each other with Lizabeth standing over the kneeling Lone. He was so tall that even kneeling, they were almost eye-to-eye. When they were situated to the Mistress Superior’s satisfaction, Lizabeth thought that they must look like actors about to put on a play for an audience of one.
“Well, now that we’re finally in position—Karx, do you have a dagger?” Verlandah asked.
Wordlessly, the bearded guard stood forward, drew a long, sharp dagger from the sheath at his belt. Bowing, he held it out hilt first to his Mistress.
The Mistress Superior took it and then motioned to Lizabeth to take it from her.
“Come now, don’t be shy. Haven’t you ever held a dagger before?” she demanded when Lizabeth was somewhat reluctant to take the shining, deadly instrument from her hand.
Lizabeth thought about saying handling deadly weapons wasn’t in her job description and then decided it was better to keep quiet. She simply took the dagger and held it with the sharp tip pointed carefully downward.
“Good. Now, Anarrah—you tell the story of the first Mistress and her Novice. Go on, I know you like doing it.” Verlandah motioned to the Mistress of the Law.
“I do indeed,” Anarrah said in her soft, tinkling voice. She cleared her throat and began in a soft, haunting gone that evoked ages long past.
“Many, many ages ago, the First Mistress came here to the Tower of the Higher Mind, although it was not the Tower then—but only the Sacred Mountain.” She made a flowing motion with her arms, indicating the mountain all around them. “The First Mistress came from the Yonnie home world and she was heart-sick and soul-weary.
“She did not believe, as others of her kind, that males were only good for use as bodyslaves but neither did she consider them her equal. For you see, my children…” Mistress Anarrah made a sorrowful gesture with both hands, almost like tears flowing. “She had loved a male and he had broken her heart and her will to live. And so she decided to seek a home in the frozen mountains of Yonnie Two and to never see another male again, either slave or free.”
Lizabeth watched, fascinated as the narr
ative continued. She hadn’t expected to hear the origin story of this strange place but now that Mistress Anarrah was telling it so beautifully, she was captivated. A glance at Lone showed that he was watching in rapt silence as well.
“The First Mistress lived alone in the Sacred Mountain for some time but though she told herself she needed time to heal, she found that she was lonely,” Anarrah went on. “Then came the day that a male from one of the savage tribes south of the mountains came to her door. The First Mistress would not allow him entrance to begin with—she knew the despicable things those in the south did to females and she had no wish to become a casualty of their ignorance.
“But this male—the First Novice—begged so hard that she let him in so he would not freeze that she at last relented. He told the First Mistress his story, how he had run from the brutality of his tribe because he wished to worship women, not hurt them. Such desires were considered a weakness among his people, he said.
"To begin with, the First Mistress did not trust him. She kept a weapon—a dagger—with her always and would not allow the First Novice to come within touching distance of her,” Mistress Anarrah went on in her lovely, silvery voice.
Lizabeth thought that she didn’t blame the First Mistress for not trusting a strange guy’s intentions—especially if he was one of the savage, misogynistic Friezens. But she was curious to know how the story ended.
“Though she did not trust him to begin with, slowly the First Novice proved his desire to serve,” Anarrah went on. “He repaired and restored and fashioned the first rooms of what was to become the Tower of the Higher Mind. He served the First Mistress with his labor and begged to be allowed to give her the kiss of greeting when they met.”
Mistress Anarrah made a graceful gesture at Lizabeth.
“Give your Novice your hands, my dear. Here—I’ll hold the dagger for this part,” she murmured.
Instructing the Novice Page 9