Leila: Goddess The Second Coming

by R. J. Castille

  “Goddess, I want you to know I have and will always love you. You are my Domme, my teacher, my precious and revered one. Never forget that!” His words got more emphasized as he spoke. I could tell that he was desperately trying to get his point across. My chest became tighter as I tried to maintain my composure.

  “Yes, Matthew, I could never forget,” the pangs of guilt and sadness combined began to overwhelm me. I slowed my breathing down and concentrated on his voice to keep from losing my mind .

  “I need to go, I fear I have dragged this call out longer than is safe but, I needed to hear your voice. I wish I could feel your touch. I long for your firm hand as you guide me through my journey into submission. Hopefully, I will be able to feel that again. Take care of yourself, my Goddess, I will try to contact you again soon,” with that he suddenly hung up the phone. The stuttering tone on the other end announced to me that he was gone and I was devastated.

  My mind registered everything he had said and I resolved to make sure I find out exactly what was going on from Gordon on Monday. I was frightened for Matthew and felt sorry for him. I prayed that Matthew was mistaken and that the detectives were simply playing out their part before closing the investigation, ruling it an obvious accident. I knew better.

  I filled the rest of my afternoon with mundane activities. Cleaning my apartment was, as always, a great distraction. I dusted every single knick-knack, picture frame and silk, plant arrangement I owned. I even went so far as to take down the decorative dishes that rested on top of my kitchen cabinets and clean them until they were as shiny as new again. Occasionally my mind would attempt to interject a saddening thought, to which I responded by quickly stuffing it back down into the dark place. Before I knew it, it was late and time to prepare myself for the masquerade.

  The Red Velvet Room would be a welcome interruption from my impossible situation. I was happy to be spending the evening with like-minded friends that I did not have to hide from. In their presence I felt calm, confident and, let’s face it, like royalty. There was nowhere else in the world that I would rather be than with those who shared my other reality. Especially at that moment.

  -14-

  Turning around several times in front of the full-length mirror, I nodded in satisfaction with my look. Mistress Liliana was right, the dress was definitely the one. It hugged my curves with perfection. The overlay successfully masked the bump that was starting to announce the presence of the life within me, which made me glad. Instead of spiked heels, I opted for some wedge-heels. I felt more stable on them and they were light and comfortable.

  My fingers trailed along the edge of the mask that Liliana had given me. I noticed that the mask was made with similar accents as the dress I now wore. That was hardly an accident and I knew it. She had planned the entire thing in advance. I even felt as though she had shopped for and picked the dress out for me prior to us even going shopping. A smile found its way to my mouth, very thoughtful.

  I wrapped the ends of my holster around my waist and hid the ends in the folds of the flowing fabric of the dress. Before I turned to exit my closet, I grasped the crop Gordon had sent me with my hand. My finger absently traced the gold “G” that had been fastened to the end of the handle. Sliding it into the holster, I nodded at myself, satisfied that my cultivated persona was nearly perfect.

  My hair was pulled back into a tight French braid with long sections of hair flowing freely around my face in random intervals. They curled slightly around my jawline before falling past my shoulders in soft ringlets. Bright red lips hovered in the mirror, a slight smile turning up the corners of my mouth. I tilted my head to the side as I turned so that the mirror reflected my profile. Pulling my shoulders back, I tried to suck in my stomach so that the bulging belly disappeared as much as it could. It was no use, I would just have to hope that the relative darkness inside the main hall would mask its presence further.

  Turning from the mirror, I grabbed the mask, and went back into my bedroom. Making my way across to the bed, I picked up my purse and placed my cell phone in the side pocket, as always. After placing the handles on my forearm, I picked up the small clutch I intended on moving anything I would need from my purse once I arrived at my final destination. I floated rather than walked out of the apartment in a state of bliss, ready to tackle the world, ready to have it begging for my mercy, as it should .

  Behind the wheel of a brand-new Jaguar XJ, I made my way to the Hills. Music drifted through the speakers to my ears, soothing me. Bose speakers created a crisp sound that enveloped me in the cabin of my new ride. Definitely a nice touch, Gordon. The thought brought a smile to my lips. I did enjoy good music as I drove; it provided a welcome distraction from the stressors of the inevitable commute one was subjected to in the city. Merging carefully onto the freeway, I hummed along with the song that had taken control of the wavelength on the onboard, satellite radio. Oblivious to the brake lights that glared at me from the car I sat behind, my mind raced with excitement as I slowly navigated toward my destination.

  My heart beat hard in my chest, echoed by the pulse in my neck, as I neared the gate that would allow me access to the Red Velvet Room. Pulling up to the guard tower, I slipped the mask over my face. I was concerned that, without it, the guard would not recognize me, especially since I was driving such an up-scale vehicle. Besides, it was a masquerade after all.

  Bending forward to get a better look inside my car, the guard looked me through slanted, skeptical eyes. He stared at me defiantly, obviously waiting for me to present an invitation or announce who I was.

  “Goddess,” I uttered one word that would undoubtedly invoke reverence in everyone at the Red Velvet Room. He nodded quickly, almost stumbling backward as he reached over to press the button to open the gate for me.

  “My apologies, Goddess. I didn’t recognize the car so naturally you can understand my questioning you,” I smiled up at him as he stumbled through his apology. I allowed him to finish before I simply nodded in his direction and turned my gaze to the driveway in front of me. The gate slid open, allowing me to edge my car through the entry and up the winding driveway.

  I pulled my car along the curb at the top. The valet rushed toward the side of my vehicle, poised to take possession of my keys without haste. Tossing the keys toward him as I rounded the front, I headed toward the front of the Red Velvet Room. I breathed in the succulent perfume that grew in clusters along the walkway, a soft scent that was both inviting and mysterious. When I reached the door, the large knockers waited patiently for me to raise then lower one to alert the doorman someone had arrived .

  The cold metal was heavy in my hand as I wrapped my hand around it as far as I could and pulled it upward. I allowed it to fall and repeated the motion once more. Satisfied that the loud booming sound the knocker created had sufficiently announced my presence, I stepped back and squared myself in the center of the right entry, remembering that was the side the doorman typically opened. Right on cue, the right door cracked open and swung heavily in. The torches on either side of the door flickered slightly with the motion as I walked through into the immense foyer.

  As was standard, the doorman asked me for my name. Instead of checking his clipboard, recognition crossed over his face immediately and he scrawled my name onto the list of attendees that he stared intently at. It briefly appeared as though he was mumbling remarks under his breath, chastising himself for failing to recognize me. Granted, I was quite a sight in the beautiful ball gown Liliana had basically forced upon me. Stepping aside to grant me entry, he bowed slightly at the waist, casting his gaze to the floor as I passed him and walked in the direction of the main hall.

  Following the sound of music that preceded me into the dark corridor, a butler appeared out of the shadows nearly causing me to trip and fall onto my face. He reached out to steady me with a gentle hand on my arm.

  “Begging your pardon, Goddess. I meant not to frighten you. Your coat please?” He held his arm open, waiting for me to sli
ng it over the exposed surface. I complied and placed my light trench coat over his arm. He nodded at me curtly and spun around on his heel, melting into the shadows once again as if he were merely an apparition.

  I turned back toward the main hall and walked through the large, archway that led into the foyer between the corridor and the main hall. The soft glow of torch-light danced across the entry in triangle-shaped patterns. When I emerged through the entryway, I couldn’t help but smile, I was home. Standing in the entry for a few moments to allow my eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, I glanced around the hall, taking in the marvelous transformation.

  The arches that once occupied the center of the hall had been moved. Now placed in perfect intervals around the hall, each one having a naked slave securely fastened to lashings that were threaded through the eyebolts spaced around the arches. Alternating male and female, each slave was tied in a manner that their chest was thrust forward and their legs were spread impossibly wide. Silk bondage rope circled their waists allowing them balance that they would otherwise not have with the spreader bars fixed between each ankle. Their arms were stretched wide so that they were essentially spread-eagle in the center of the arch.

  As I marveled at the sight, I noticed a woman approach one of the naked, female slaves. She grasped a flogger that was hanging on the wall behind the slave and made her way back to face her. I watched as she flogged her breasts several times, each side taking three consecutive blows before she moved on. Finally, she swung the long leather straps of the flogger down and landed a healthy blow straight to the female slave’s exposed genitals. I watched the female slave’s eyes roll back into her head before dropping it slightly backward. A mixed look of pain mixed with ecstasy fixed on her face. The woman threw her head back, her mouth wide with laughter as she returned the flogger to the wall and turned her back on the slave, quickly returning to a cluster of masked patrons just across from the female slave.

  Some of the slaves were gagged. Clearly, they were being punished for speaking out of turn, or some other egregious offense. My eyes flitted across faces masked with pleasure and pain as random Masters or Mistresses approached and tormented their flesh with various implements of punishment. My eyes settled on the VIP area where Master Jason sat atop his throne, the one to his left empty, waiting for its Goddess to take her place. I smiled as I started walking around the perimeter of the hall toward the thrones.

  As I passed, I noted that the center of the room had a raised platform where various individuals gathered, their slaves at their side or crouched at their feet in reverence, muttering amongst each other. Grandiose ball gowns and fancy tuxedos consumed the space. Some wore masks that were held in place, fancy works molded carefully before adding finishing touches. Jewels, embroidered trim, some even had rhinestones fixed in intervals around the edges or the eyeholes. Others used hand-held, more classic masks that could be removed quickly or placed in front of their face to disguise their features in a hurry, if necessary.

  Master Jason looked on, his hand resting lovingly on Kendra’s head, a few strands of her golden locks wound around his fingers. Next to my empty throne, Mistress Liliana sat, chest thrust forward in a proud posture. The dress she had purchased was over the top, but suited her perfectly. The tight corseted bodice pressing her breasts up forming voluptuous mounds at the top of the heart-shaped neckline. Her right hand stroked John’s black curls gently where he crouched, naked in his presentation position. She glanced randomly at groups of people around the dance floor before her eyes found me across the crowded room. Instantly, the Cheshire Cat returned as dark, red lips stretched across perfectly white teeth.

  Clapping her hands together in rapid succession as she bounced up and down on the couch she rested on, she suddenly leapt up and was on her feet, heading across the room toward me. Her arms circled around me once she reached where I had stopped to observe a petite slave being caned. Her form perfect, fingers woven together behind her neck, breasts thrust forward. Her ankles crossed over each other, knees spread apart. As I passed I had caught a glimpse of her face and recognized her instantly, Natasha.

  She did not look up as I passed, thankfully. Instead I gave my full attention to Mistress Liliana who had yet to release me from her embrace. The scented oil she wore reminded me of Matthew and a slight sting of sadness poked its way into my chest. I stuffed it back down and regarded Liliana cheerfully. Finally, able to relinquish myself from her grasp, I laughed nervously as I continued my approach to the VIP area with her now at my side. Her presence a little awkward after the freeway scene yesterday afternoon. I quickly dismissed the memories as I entered the VIP section.

  Master Jason rose to his feet as I entered the roped off area, his perfect teeth exposed as his lips pulled back in a wide grin. As I neared him, he folded me into his arms in a protective embrace. I let my head fall to his shoulder briefly and breathed in his scent. Manly yet a with a hint of citrus, a unique smell I only associated with Jason Slater. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he pulled me away slightly to study my face. From behind my mask, I saw his head cock to the side in a curious manner. Like he was trying to read something he saw behind my eyes.

  “Welcome, Goddess,” Master Jason guffawed at the top range of his voice. Those in the general area stopped their conversation immediately and turned toward us. Slaves froze in place across the great hall as they welcomed their Goddess. My face began to hurt from the wide smile that found its way to my face. I was overwhelmed with joy as they began clapping, some bowing slightly at the waist in a demonstration of honor. Several slaves dropped to their knees, balancing their trays on top of one hand so they could bow forward and place one hand on the floor.

  Master Jason stared at me, obviously waiting on my cue. I raised my hand and waved slightly nodding my head around the room in recognition of their consideration. Slowly, they turned their attentions back to the group they were in, the murmuring voices continued, slow waves of conversation started to gain strength across the hall. The music came back on, I was so emotional over the welcome I had received, I had not even noticed they had turned it off when I was being honored. I became acutely aware of those in the VIP area staring at me in anticipation. I crossed the area and lowered myself into my throne. Breathing slowly between pursed lips, I observed the slaves rise throughout the hall and continue on their tasks.

  Completely naked except for their customary aprons, short enough to expose their genitals to any onlooker in the room. Same old, same old. Except, in honor of the theme of the evening, every slave wore a small, masquerade mask. No decorations, no ornate pattern. Simple masks fixed to the back of their head by a thin, black ribbon. They scurried about the room, retrieving empty glasses, bringing patrons a fresh drink, enduring an occasional spanking or pinch to the rear-end.

  From my throne, I watched as a group of patrons formed two lines on the dance floor. Traditional ball-room music came through the speaker as the Masters and Mistresses began to perform an obviously choreographed dance in the center of the great hall. The gentlemen bowed low, their eyes cast to the ground as their counterpart curtsied on the opposite side of the line. Ball gowns swirled, a gentle wave of color, as they were twirled across the dance floor in pulsating patterns. I marveled at their performance, a smile frozen on my face. I barely noticed Mistress Liliana clapping her hands together quickly and bouncing up and down again in her seat to my left.

  “I knew you would love it!” Her eyes pleaded for my approval. “I told them I wanted it to be a grand performance of traditional ballroom dance. They have really outdone themselves,” she returned her attention to the dance floor, tilted her head to the side, an outward sign of her affection, before returning her hopeful eyes to me .

  “I am truly pleased, Mistress,” I returned her smile and she returned to clapping her hands together rapidly. This time, a loud giggle actually escaped her lips. I was so pleased, I didn’t even mind her childish behavior. I took a deep breath in as tears of joy pricked behind my
eyes. Counting silently in my head, I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them slowly, blinking a few times as I did. I was truly pleased.

  “Drinks!” Master Jason’s strong voice interrupted our Kodak moment. A short, male slave approached the ropes immediately, slipping past a Centurion who had allowed them entry, he hurried toward us, dropping to his knees as he came within earshot. “Rum and Coke,” he barked at the slave before looking my direction. My pulse quickened and throbbed loudly in my ears.

  “I will have a Club Soda,” I said quietly as I could and still allow the slave to hear me. Jason looked at me closely, his head tilted to the side. Turning toward him, I took a deep breath before responding.

  “Say nothing to anyone, Jason, swear to me?” I dropped my voice and leaned closer to him.

  “I swear,” he said loudly as his hand drew a cross pattern across his chest. Cross my heart, hope to die .

  “I am having a baby, so I therefore am avoiding the intake of alcohol,” I stated, a matter-of-fact tone to my voice. His eyes sparkled immediately at my statement. I could tell he wanted to shout and was doing his best to control himself.

  “Oh, Goddess, bringer of life! I am so excited for you,” he whispered, almost loud enough for the slave to hear. Part of me felt like he did that on purpose. I looked into his dark eyes and knew better, he was being genuine, real. Unlike most people in the “real” world, I could always depend on my friends in the “Lifestyle” to ultimately support me at every turn. Trust beyond those that the “norms” could ever understand, Jason told me that years ago and I saw it more and more with every contact with the darker side of my life.

  My eyes flicked toward John who could possibly have overheard everything we said. His position had not changed, his eyes still greeted the floor with an eternal gaze. His hands rested on the pedestal between his knees, spread wide apart so his Mistress could access his personal area at will. He appeared to have his attention focused elsewhere as I watched. Mistress Liliana was stroking his shaft roughly with her hand. I could see his face straining to control his orgasm as her relentless rhythm continued. His arms flexed and he clawed at the pedestal, a large vein popping out of his temple as his forehead creased with his effort to defy nature. Suddenly, Liliana stopped teasing his length and his head dropped, his mouth hanging open as he gasped, struggling to gulp in air as fast as he could. He really was a good slave.