Bosom Bondage Buddies, Part 2

by Brandy Dewinter

  

Chapter 35 - Dancing the Night Away

 

Lord Odysseus's new slave girl proved so adept at the learning the pattern that she earned the name Dancer in short order. Kelly and I visited frequently when we used the pattern painted on the floor in his house to refine our own dances. It was a delight to see Dancer develop under her master's wonderful teaching. Every day, it seemed, you could see her grow in femininity, in grace (due to learning the pattern, but more than that as well), and in sensuality as she discovered just how incredible her body could become in delivering pleasure to her. By the time we were packing for the cruise, she was already more beautiful than any woman we had ever met, except those who had themselves been granted the privilege of training by Lord Odysseus.

The four of us flew together to LA, where we would meet the cruise ship that would provide the site for the wedding. Most of the evening clothes that Kelly and I had gotten for our first cruise would work well on this cruise, but we had to replace our coats and warm boots with bikinis and more bikinis for the sun we expected. Dancer, Kelly and I all received the same lecture about our impossibly tall heels, from everyone connected with the airline, the airport, whoever.

"Let's make this a contest," Kelly giggled. "Everyone keep track of how many times someone warns you about your shoes."

"That would sort of be a contest to see who is the most noticeable, right?" Dancer asked.

"I guess you could say that," I agreed.

It was no contest, really. While Kelly was the most beautiful and had the most spectacular figure, and I was the most striking with my lean strength, and while we all displayed the impossibly fluid grace that comes with success at dancing the pattern, Dancer decided her prize would be a sign of respect for her master and her determination to win for him lifted her well above us. She was so successful at attracting attention, not by blatant interference with others but just by broadcasting an almost subliminal message of intense erotic desire, that I expected to start hearing announcements over the PA system as her effect spread throughout the area.

Erik Sanford, Lord Odysseus, watched over this byplay with his own look of detached amusement. He wasn't finished with Dancer, yet, but his success was remarkable. Letting her out into public was part of her training, and she was doing very well at demonstrating that the bonds that held her to her master were not made of steel, but of the deepest, most compelling devotion. We boarded the flight on time, arrived in LA on time, and found a limousine waiting for us, compliments of Rocky Thornton. Vixen met us at the gangway to the ship and escorted us to our cabins. She was clearly brimful of joy, not the bubbly effervescence of Kelly, nor the wide-eyed puppy-out-to-see-the-world exuberance of Dancer, but a deeper, quieter sense of happiness that was actually closest to my own emotion. There was no subservience about her, neither to Lady Raven that lurked within me, nor to Lord Odysseus who had transformed her entire personality. She was owned totally by Lord Atlas now, and just as totally satisfied.

We wasted no time in breaking out our most outrageous bikinis immediately after the ship pulled away from the dock. This time neither Dancer nor I could compete with the incredible bounty revealed by Kelly's tiny covering, so we laughed together as the stud patrol converged on her.

"Where do they manufacture those guys for you?" I whispered to my wife as a brace of blond hunks drifted casually, but quickly toward her.

"Special order," she laughed. "Didn't you bring your coupon?"

"Funny, I missed that catalog," I giggled.

Dancer couldn't have cared less for any men other than her master, and I began to see that at least a part of her training would be to wean her away from her attachment to him. I wondered if Lord Odysseus would ever decide to settle down with one woman. If I had the right plumbing, and didn't have Kelly, I would have applied for the position myself.

My own form was more than sufficient to gain a following, though the muscle definition I had put off all the weaklings. I figured I might have a few fun walks in the moonlight but I wasn't ready to let anyone else in on my secret. Dancer didn't even know, so I wouldn't let it go beyond flirting. I figured my real tits and new disguise mounds would be good enough for any caresses that didn't actually get inside my panties, though, so I could have a little more fun than when I had first met Rocky. Actually, my love and respect for Kelly had grown from the adventures we had shared, and she certainly kept me satisfied sexually. At least I thought I was satisfied, though I was eventually to learn that her own creativity hadn't been tapped, yet.

When we were dressing for dinner on the first night of the cruise, we decided to resurrect the gowns we had worn on our first cruise when we had met Rocky. Kelly was lacing me into my corset when she said, "Goodness, girl, you waist is trimmer than ever. Wearing a corset all the time has really helped your shape."

"Goodness had nothing to do with it," I laughed as I repeated the standard line.

"You've changed shape, too," I said as I laced her into the snug embrace of her own corset. "Your waist is so small this corset is almost too big, but your tits are going to spill right out of it."

"They've been bigger ever since they started giving milk," she explained.

"Believe me, I know," I sighed. We had succeeded, for a while, in getting a thin fluid from my own breasts, but the quantity was so small that we had decided just to concentrate on Kelly's supply. I remembered the sensation, though, and missed it sometimes.

Our trip to the dining room was infinitely easier than the first time, so long ago. We could now float in our high spikes without effort, thanks the matchless body control we had earned by succeeding in dancing the pattern while wearing heels. Only the long skirts to our dresses required attention, and the slits up our thighs allowed us to gather them out of the way. When we reached the table we saw familiar name cards, Miss Brandy Dewinter and Mrs. Kelly Dewinter placed just as they had been before.

"Well, Mrs. Dewinter," I chuckled, "it looks like we'll be separated by this guy named Peter Thornton."

"Gee, Miss Dewinter, I wonder if that guy ever has problems with rocks," she mused.

"Perhaps, I'll look and let you know," I grinned.

Erik Sanford was already there, sitting across from Rocky's place. Dancer was to his right, leaving a place for a woman directly across from me, at the Captain's right hand. Vixen came in to take it, holding to Rocky's arm as though it were the anchor of her life. I noticed that the Captain of this ship was a less humorous man than the one who commanded our first cruise ship as the two ship's masters walked in together a few minutes later, taking their appointed places.

"Miss Dewinter," this ship's Captain said, "I am Captain Powell. I understand you have already met Captain Samson on an earlier cruise."

"Yes, sir," I smiled offering him my hand. "Though I'm not sure he would remember me."

"Nonsense," Captain Samson said from his place beyond Dancer," I remember you and your sister-in-law vividly."

"Vivid memories are quite interesting," I smiled, provoking a strangled giggle from Kelly and a grin of respect from Erik at my quick response with a private joke. I smiled at Vixen, who smiled in return, a dreamy look in her eyes as she remembered our time as slave sisters.

"It has been a long time since I've seen Vivid," she mused. "The last time was when I met Milord Atlas, and the time before that was when I met Lord Odysseus. Yes, Vivid memories are interesting. Will she be attending the party tomorrow night?"

"No, but the Lady Raven will be here," I said.

"You know, I've never met the Lady Raven," Rocky commented.

"She's a most impressive woman," said Erik. "I think you'd enjoy spending some time with her."

"I know I always do," confirmed Kelly. "I'm looking forward to the party."

"Me, too," chimed in Dancer and Vixen in near unison, each looking at her master and owner with visible devotion.

The dinner proceeded a little uncomfortably, the surface gentility covering a deeper tension. So many of us at the table had meant so much to each other, at various times, that finding the proper balance among our new relationships was even harder than forming friendships with total strangers. With the exception of the two ship's captains, each of us had multiple personas in our various master and slave roles (not to mention my even more basic impersonation), and while there was no psychological disorder since we knew who was real and who was created, still some of us had adopted role characteristics into our basic lives. Dancer and Vixen reveled in the freedom of their slavery, carrying their devotion to their owners with them wherever they went, yet Lord Atlas and Lord Odysseus were not fully in character at the moment so they needed to show a persona of control to their willing slaves while acting ordinary to others. The food was excellent, however, though Kelly and I were constrained by our corsets to mere samples of the various offerings.

Captain Powell excused himself as soon as the meal neared completion. He was obviously less comfortable in this social situation than our first captain had been. We had barely finished the remainder of the meal and stood when a couple of blond hunks converged on Kelly. Rocky took Vixen off to celebrate their love in some private place, and Erik took Dancer's arm and led her toward the ballroom. I found myself alone and thought I might follow, since watching two who could dance the pattern move to music would be beautiful to see, when I felt a gentle touch on my arm.

"Miss Dewinter, could I talk with you for a moment?" asked Captain Samson.

"Only if you'll call me Brandy," I replied.

"Then for this cruise you must call me John," he smiled.

He continued when I nodded and asked, "After our last cruise together I would have taken a large bet it would be you, not some other woman who would marry Rocky. I couldn't help notice that his Vixen is enough like you to be a sister. He's been a good friend for a long time and I'm a little worried that he might have latched onto her as a substitute for you, after you had some sort of argument. I hope he's not settling for second best on the rebound."

"Captain, . .um . .John, don't worry about it. It's a long story, some of which needs to remain private, but you ought to look at it the other way around. For him, I would be the poor second best. Think of Vixen as the perfection of the image I strive toward, at least in Rocky's eyes."

"I can't imagine any way in which she would be more desirable than you. You have a strength of character that she doesn't come close to matching."

"Thank you, John, you're a gentleman as always. Perhaps, though that is the very problem. Rocky and I are a little too much the same, in more ways than one. Vixen is his perfect match. You may not know this, but Erik Sanford is her personal trainer and counselor as well as a doctor. He has helped her to develop her full potential, and that potential meets what Rocky needs, just as he supplies what she needs. Be happy for them, I am."

"Lady, you are tall, solid gold. Here you are cheerfully giving away one of the most terrific catches a girl could imagine. Rocky is rich, handsome, young, and nice. Don't you have any regrets at all?"

"Believe me, I shed a few tears in the time after Rocky met Vixen, but that's all behind me now. Frankly, I spent a little time with Erik as well and he helped me see where my own development path needs to go. I'm better off without Rocky, or at least just being friends. I know that now."

He smiled at me, looking for sadness in my eyes, but if there was any I hid it from him, and from myself as well. After a second, he nodded, and offered me his arm with a courtly bow. "Well, Brandy, since it seems you have no escort, would you grant me the favor of your company in a dance or two."

"Gladly, kind sir," I replied just as formally, then changed to a giggling teenager style. "I think that would be just peachy."

When we reached the ballroom, Erik and Dancer were gliding to the music, more fluid and graceful than any professional dancers had ever been. Many of those in the room were just watching in pleasure and awe at the beauty of their coordinated motion. Captain Samson, however, headed right for the dance floor and we were soon providing our own counterpoint interpretation of the music. He led with sure confidence, whirling me around the room quite aggressively, though wonderfully matched to the style of the music. The foxtrot that was playing when we started gave way to a more sedate waltz and he held me a little closer and more intimately as our pace slowed. I was reflecting on the value of the disguising cushion I wore beneath my gown when the music changed yet again to a dramatic tango.

It has been said that any couple that dances a tango well should immediately get married. It is one of the most emotionally captivating ballroom dances, one in which attunement to your partner has an overwhelming influence on the quality of the dance. I had never really done it well as Ran, too tentative and self-conscious to let myself go. As Brandy, though, especially with John providing a strong lead, I found myself swept up into the rhythm. My training in the pattern of sumito allowed me to flow in graceful response to any move he initiated, as though we had been partners for years. Erik and Dancer had a similar fluid grace, but it quickly became clear that my partner had the more artistic soul, which surprised me at first. But then I remembered that many men of the sea had that artistic temperament, perhaps it was a prerequisite for enjoyment of a life at sea, or perhaps the ever changing beauty of the ocean provided an input that landlubbers lacked.

As the dance ended I realized that there were only two couples still dancing, John and I, and Erik and Dancer. The rest of the people had become an audience for our display, leaving the floor to us in respect for the artistry we created. They applauded when we hit our final freeze, both couples finishing with a dramatic flourish of swirling skirts (revealing shapely legs) that settled around the tableau we created as a concluding accent.

"You are an incredible dancer," my escort complimented me in wonder. "No one has ever been able to keep up with some of the crazy ideas I get doing a tango."

"You lifted me beyond myself, Captain," I replied, realizing the truth of my comment even as I said it.

He led me now to one of the tables, waving at a waiter to come take our order. I'm not sure he intended for anyone to join us and I began to worry about starting again on the convoluted path that had developed from my last shipboard romance with Rocky, but Erik led Dancer over as well. I saw an instant of disappointment on John's face, but then quick acceptance, knowing that these were already my friends.

"You dance very well," Erik complimented me.

"Thank you, though you taught me how, so it's more a reflection of you than of me," I smiled.

"No," he disagreed with a smile, "your reflection showed the imagination of Captain Samson, I just showed you how to maintain your balance, and perhaps how to float your feet off the floor a little."

"Thank you, Dr. Sanford," replied my partner, "but I think you and Dancer were matchless. I felt like a clumsy bull elephant, enthusiastic, but clumsy."

"Well, I like enthusiasm," I said, interrupting this mutual admiration society meeting. "How about a drink?"

We found seats and ordered. In the pause before conversation resumed I noticed that only Captain Samson was breathing at all heavily. Training in the patterns of the sumito dance had allowed us to move so efficiently that there was no effort required for even the most dramatic ordinary dance. For once, the tight corset hadn't really hampered me, though I remembered the effect my heaving breasts had had when I needed to recover my breath while wearing one. Oh, well, I could always fake it, when I wanted to catch some guy's attention.

Kelly breezed in accompanied by her latest conquest. The joy that always lit her face brought a smile to those around her just from the energy that poured from her. She waved to us and brought her blond hunk, introducing him politely though I forgot his name immediately.

"The story about you guys is already all over the ship," Kelly said. "That must have been some dance. It seems I underestimated you, Captain Samson."

"Please, everyone, call me John. There can only be one captain on a ship, and this lady belongs to another. Besides, we were just having fun."

"Maybe so, but if half the moves people said you were making are real, anyone else would have ended up in traction," Kelly laughed.

"We heard you two put on quite a show, yourselves," she continued, turning to Erik and Dancer.

"Yes," John added, "you are clearly well-named, Dancer. Do you dance professionally?"

"No, but Milord Odysseus taught me how to dance, how to move at all, really," she answered.

"Milord Odysseus?" John asked.

"You'll meet him at the party tomorrow night," I explained.

"Along with some other interesting people."

"About that party," he said pensively. "The theme is a little extreme for a cruise ship. Is everyone really supposed to come as either a master or a slave?"

"Or a mistress," I added. "No admittance unless you're willing to be a slave for the evening, or have convinced someone to be your slave."

"Indeed," Captain Samson mused. "Well, we know what Rocky and Vixen will do. She really adores him, though she also truly seems happy to belong to him. Are you spoken for, Brandy?"

"Are you asking to be my slave?" I asked, arching an elegant eyebrow."

"No," he blushed. "I guess I was expecting you might like to be mine."

"Sorry," I replied with a smile. "I make a better mistress than a slave."

"I'm sure you do. I suppose it's not too much of a stretch to expect that Kelly will be your slave."

"Yep," Kelly giggled. "We'll knock their socks off."

John sighed, the introspective look on his face showing both disappointment and uncertainty on what he should do next.

I chuckled and said, "You might need to go hunting for a while. The party is tomorrow, don't waste any time."

He grinned sheepishly, embarrassed at how transparent his thoughts had been. Kelly offered him some encouragement, though.

"You really only need to circulate a little. That dance has made your reputation and I expect you'll find a few women willing to pretend to be your slave for the evening. Maybe some who won't insist it be pretend. If anyone wants to know what it's like to serve a wonderful owner, send them to me. I'll have them panting for the chance in minutes."

"Or to me," Dancer added. "Kelly doesn't really know what it's like to be owned totally, but I do. I'll convince them to give it a try."

"Sure you won't consider helping me out for the evening?" John asked me as he rose to leave.

"Maybe next time," I smiled. "Being a slave can be fun, but my plans are already made for this trip."

He walked away shaking his head. Our lifestyle had long diverged from the norm for our culture, more in my case than he would believe, and the idea that we had all experienced this outrageous situation didn't really fit in his preconceived notion of what sort of people did that. Nonetheless, I expected he would indeed find a pretty slave girl, at least for the evening. We said our own good-byes shortly after that and returned to our room.

The next day dawned bright and clear, with the promise of being hot. Not that we saw the dawn, we slept with the depth made possible when the ship is gently rocking you all night long. By the time we rose it was already quite warm so we found a pair of flattering (meaning skimpy) bikinis and hit the deck chairs to work on our tan. Since I would be wearing my leather bustier dress, my bikini was a strapless design, merely a not-too-wide band of material on top, and two small triangles connected by thin strings below. Kelly had an even greater problem since her slave dress would show any tan lines at all, so she spent the time on her stomach, her top completely untied. The first time she needed sun tan lotion I applied it myself, but thereafter one or another of her blond hunk patrol provided all the help she needed.

That evening we dressed in our familiar costumes as Milady Raven and Angel. I still preferred the original bondage concept, with the tinkling chain leading from neck to hobble, so Angel was quickly locked within my steel.

"I have a new item for you, Angel," I said.

"Yes, Milady? Is it the nipple clamps?"

"Do you want me to attach them?" I asked.

"If you wish, Milady. They are quite intense."

"All right, but we'll do it a little differently, this time.

I'll put them on tightly enough to keep your milk from flowing for the evening. That will be even more intense than usual."

"Yes, Milady," she nodded.

I screwed the clamps down to her hard, hot nipples, squeezing them a little tighter than normal. She gasped as the extra pressure was added, but said nothing. The aroma of her arousal confirmed her excitement and pleasure, however. I wondered what the gentle Captain Samson would think when he saw such intense bondage. We would probably shock him, knock his socks off, as Kelly had forecast.

"Actually, that was not the addition I had in mind, though," I told Angel.

Her eyes widened, the stimulation of the nipple clamps seemed almost more than she could bear, and I could see her wonder what else I had in mind. It wasn't a gag, but it was something she had experienced before. Sort of.

I pulled out a little box with a switch on it, and a short antenna. She wasn't sure what significance that had, until I pulled out a vibrator egg, complete with it's own antenna. She gasped again and started to speak but I motioned her to silence, then reached under the tiny skirt to her slave dress to place the egg within her. The antenna protruded down just enough that the tip could be seen below her dress, a mysterious shiny knob that implied hidden support from above. I switched the vibrator on, watching as her eyes began to flutter and her knees to buckle, then I turned it off.

"Oh, Milady, I'm not sure I can stand too much of that." she moaned softly.

"See that you do stand whatever I require of you," I said sternly.

"Yes, Milady," she whispered, once again absorbing the true meaning of surrendering control to me, always more of an emotional than intellectual understanding.

I attached her leash to her collar and we strolled to the party, our pace slowed by her hobbles. I had already decided that we would negotiate the staircases at whatever pace was required rather than holding off on her ankle hobbles, so it took us a while, but I had never intended to get there first. It was clear that most of those on the ship were only playing at owner and slave roles, for there were few who had more in the way of bondage than a simple clothesline rope wrapped around the slave's wrists. Our entrance, when we arrived at the sight of the party was as dramatic as I could have hoped for, announced by the collective gasp of the crowd as we sauntered into the room.

Even though I intended to be relatively late in arriving, I noticed that neither Lord Odysseus nor Lord Atlas were there yet, with their own slaves. Captain Samson was there, though, a lovely red-headed girl trailing behind him wearing a bikini top, a wrap skirt, and a pair of handcuffs he must have scrounged form the ship's master-at-arms, unless he had more interesting tastes than I gave him credit for. His leash was hooked to her handcuffs and she was grinning as she followed him, under minimal control.

"Ah, Brandy, you have a most beautiful captive," he said.

"You will address me as Milady Raven, if you find it necessary to speak to me," I said coldly, showing him the strength of a true mistress with my standard introduction.

By now his own captive had seen the nipple clamps that Angel wore, as well as the chain that bound her hands behind her back, and the hobble at her ankles. Samson's slave girl's response was first to cringe in shock, but I noticed that her nipples popped up through her bikini top.

"The bondage you have applied seems quite intense, Milady Raven," Samson said, trying to recover the camaraderie we had shared earlier.

"It might profit you to explore an equivalent approach," I countered. "Your own slave girl seems quite interested.

"No I'm not," she said softly.

"I do not permit my slaves to speak without permission, but in this case I will respond to her remark," I said, addressing myself to Samson. "Her nipples prove her interest regardless of her words. Recognizing her true needs is the mark of a good mistress, or master. It would seem you both have much to learn, about yourselves and about each other."

"I believe you're right," Samson said. "Wait just a minute, please."

He quickly unlocked one of the handcuffs on his pretty red-headed slave and fastened them again behind her. She stood passively, eyes wide, not protesting but breathing so hard I thought she might hyperventilate. Next, he took the leash from where it had attached to her cuffs and reattached it looped around her neck. She shivered to his touch, but her own arousal scent started to become apparent in the still air around us.

"Better," I complimented him, "but she clearly wants a more intense stimulus. I'll loan you Angel's nipple clamps if you'd like."

This brought expressions of shock to all three of them, Samson, Angel, and the red-head.

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that," Samson said, but we were both watching his slave girl when he said it, and the disappointment was apparent in her face, before she carefully made her expression neutral.

"Well, perhaps I could at that," he said thoughtfully, surprised at the girl's willingness, or desire, or whatever.

I removed Angel's nipple clamps by unscrewing them, not pulling them off. She moaned at the returning sensation and sagged against my hands, but she recovered herself quickly and looked wistfully as I handed the clamps to Samson. Both he and his red-head noticed her reaction, both the moan and the look of regret. It brought the red-headed girl's nipples to even greater attention through the thin bikini top and provided them as targets for Samson's attention. He placed the first one on a protruding button and tightened it until he saw a small wince in her expression, then attached the other one. She was breathing more quickly than ever, panting with the excitement of this incredible experience, but she said nothing, while her scent flooded out even more intensely and Angel's began to subside.

"What have you named her?" I asked Samson.

"Her name is Julie," he said.

"Is that what you have named her?" I prodded.

"Well, no, that's her real name."

"Real slaves have no name except the one given them by their owner. Is she a real slave or not?" I demanded.

He looked at her, wondering just how far she could go. He still considered this all a game, play-acting, but I saw a look of dependence in his slave's eyes, asking him to accept her fully. He nodded abruptly and took on a look of resolution as he began to understand the responsibilities of a slave owner.

"Your name is Button," Lord Samson declared to her, "in honor of your obvious interest in this evening's theme. These clamps will help you continue to display the interest that earned you your name."

"Thank you, Milady Raven," he said to me. "I've learned more in these few minutes about women, and about myself, than I've learned for many years. I begin to see why you consider this Lord Odysseus more of a teacher than anything else."

"Begin to see is right," I allowed. "There is much more to owning a slave, or being a slave, than you'll understand tonight, but now at least you have a good start."

Just then Lord Odysseus entered the room with Dancer. He wore his black leather, just as I did, but Dancer wore a version of the one-shoulder jungle woman's dress that he had dressed Vixen in the night he gave her to Lord Atlas. Her bonds were limited to a set of straps pulling her arms behind her, and a leash to a leather collar. It was clear he was training her in body awareness, emphasizing the supple movements made possible by her training on the pattern and comparing them to a jungle animal. She was a magnificent example of sleek grace, her muscles sliding beneath an almost translucent skin glowing with health. She was magnificent, and would have been the most spectacular example of a slave girl imaginable, in nearly any bondage party. Unfortunately for them the effect was spoiled by the example of Angel, who had that same fluid grace in combination with intensely sensual femininity and her own boundless joy. Once again, for about the nine-zillionth time I was thankful that I had found my love, and that she had accepted me.

"Lord Odysseus," I said as they approached, confirming Lord Samson's obvious surmise on Erik's alternate identity.

"Lady Raven," he replied with a nod.

"Your slave is very beautiful," Lord Samson said to Lord Odysseus, echoing his sentiment when he had seen Angel. Of course he was right, not only were they blessed with pretty features, but the weightless ease with which they moved made them both seem more dream than real, perhaps bound with steel, but free of mundane limits like gravity.

Lord Odysseus nodded in return, allowing a smile to touch his eyes when he saw the nipple clamps on Button, then a further one when he saw the small creases in the front of Angel's dress which showed where they had come from.

"So you chose to spend the intensity of her release from the clamps in an open display, rather than as a culmination of sexual release," Lord Odysseus observed.

"Yes, I have another set if we choose to follow that path," I smiled. "It appeared that Lord Samson had a greater need."

This was the first public confirmation that Angel and I were lovers, though Lord Samson must have considered the possibility. I didn't mind. It was part of who we were. The only secret I wanted to retain was the true nature of Brandy, and I knew Lord Odysseus wouldn't reveal that.

Finally the bride and groom arrived, and I realized for the first time how much Rocky had respected Kelly and I. In all the time we were together, he had never tried to spend inordinate amounts of money on us. His attitude was that the things we could buy for ourselves were quite sufficient, and therefore that we were quite successful in our own right. However, Vixen was to be his wife. Her wealth was the same as his, so display of it was now on his scale, not ours. It was also clear that he had his own preferences for restraints. Just as I preferred the golden chain flowing from neck to hobbles, he preferred wide golden bands at wrists, elbows, and neck. This time, however, the bands that controlled Vixen were studded with jewels, and the chain from her high collar was heavier. I'm not sure how I knew, but it was clear that the chain was solid gold, not steel overlaid with gold plate. It was a flamboyant statement of wealth and pride in his slave girl, a pride she clearly shared, and reflected back on her massive master. I was flattered to see he had stayed with the Lord Atlas costume almost unchanged, though, adding only a heavier neck chain to hold the keys to her locks. Lord Atlas strode into the room with an awesome show of massive muscles within his skin-tight, shiny superhero outfit, now able to display the power that the gentle Rocky had always kept in check. That path could lead to arrogance, but Rocky's true nature was kind enough that I wasn't worried. Perhaps this outlet for a display of the power that was his birthright would even make it easier to be gentle when he returned to his Rocky persona. They made a most dramatic couple, the drama enhanced by the amazement of both sets of friends and family at the outrageous extent of their relationship.

"Lord Atlas," I said respectfully, acknowledging that even with the circle of owners, he had first place.

"Lady Raven, Lord Odysseus, and I see Lord Samson is with you. How do you like our party, Lord Samson?" he grinned. "I see you have your own pretty slave girl. I seem to remember those nipple clamps from somewhere."

"Indeed you do, Lord Atlas," I said with a grin of my own. "These are the ones that you placed on Angel. She was reluctant to give them up, but I still have those you placed on Vivid so I can replace them later."

"You know, I have never used on Vixen the particular combination we enjoyed that night. Perhaps you could join us for a repeat experience."

"No, thank you, that's not my style," I declined. "But Vivid would be willing, whenever you like."

"I'll remember that," he laughed, "but I don't think we'll do that on this cruise."

"Then perhaps you'd like to try another little item I have with me," I offered, taking another remote control vibrator egg from my purse and handing it to him.

"I assume you have a control for this," Lord Atlas said thoughtfully, wondering just how far to go in public with his slave girl.

"Of course," I confirmed, holding one out to him.

It was hard at that point to tell which of the slave girls was flooding the air with the most scent of arousal. All were breathing heavy, eyes shining, nipples erect. It didn't matter who was most aroused, though, since Vixen was clearly excited enough that it would be no trouble to place the vibrator inside her, if Lord Atlas chose to do so immediately. In a moment resolution showed on his face and he turned to Vixen, shielding her from the majority of the crowd but still obviously reaching under her skirt. In a second the egg was in place and he was reaching for the control switch.

Instead of Vixen, however, it was Angel that began to whimper, then sag as her knees weakened.

"Oops," I laughed. "Wrong control, here, try this one."

I handed him the other control, turning it on as he reached for it, surprising Vixen into an involuntary squeak and then a whimper of her own. He smiled at me and offered me Angel's control, still turned on and causing her to shudder with the intense stimulation. He didn't turn Vixen's off immediately either, though I gave Angel some relief as soon as he handed her control to me. Lord Atlas waited long enough to make the point that he would make his own decisions, not just follow my lead, before turning off Vixen's vibrator and allowing her to catch her breath.

Button's eyes had gotten enormous when she realized what was going on. That, in combination with the nipples clamps stimulating her was almost enough to make her faint. Her eyes fluttered and she began to sag, caught only by the quick motion of Lord Odysseus.

"It would appear that your slave girl is in need of some attention," he grinned to Lord Samson.

"I believe you're right," Lord Samson replied, "and I know just the place to give it to her."

I quickly whispered in his ear, "Pull the clamps off quickly, just as she climaxes. She might become your permanent slave if you do it right."

His own eyes widened at the image, then smiled as he resolved to give my suggestion a try. I figured both of them would be happy in the morning. And inseparable.

"Congratulations, Lord Atlas, you seem to have found a compatible slave girl," I said. "But if you'll excuse me, the work of a conscientious mistress is never done, and my own slave girl requires some personal attention, too."

I flicked on the vibrator buried in Angel, and pulled her leash to lead her from the room. As soon as we were separated by a few other party-goers I turned the vibrator off, until we got back to our room. There I allowed Angel to suck my cock while the vibrator was humming in her own love center. She came first, and second, and third, but as she climbed her mountain for the fourth time that night, the ministrations of her talented lips and tongue helped me to join her and we shook in unison on our last, greatest explosion.

  

  

  

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