Chained (Brides of the Kindred) (15 page)

The hair came off in her hand—all of it.
Maggie gasped and then gave a breathless little scream as she saw the limp,
curly wig clinging to her fingers like a hairy, dead spider.

“Oh!” The lady turned around at once, both
hands going to her head which was bald as an egg. “Oh, no—my hair! What have
you done to my
hair?”

“I’m so,
so
sorry!” Maggie babbled,
trying to give the wig back. “I… it was an accident! These shoes—the carpet—”

“
Give
me that!” The lady snatched
the wig and jammed it back on her head. Unfortunately, it was sitting rather
askew and the curls weren’t nearly as perfect as they had been—in fact, they
stuck up in all directions.

“Um…” Maggie wasn’t sure if she should
mention the fact that the other woman’s wig was crooked or not.

“You
are a menace,” the lady snapped. Then she faced forward
and hurried away, trailed by her slave.

“Again, really,
really
sorry,”
Maggie called after her weakly. So much for acting like all the other
mistresses and not attracting attention. She started walking, still feeling wobbly
from the embarrassing accident. She stumbled and might even have tripped again
if not for the fact that Kor still had one hand under her arm.

“It’s all right, Mistress—I’ve got you,” he
murmured in her ear, making sure she was steady again before he let her go.

“Thanks,” Maggie muttered from the side of
her mouth. Her cheeks were burning. Had everyone noticed her acting like a
clumsy fool? She looked around, casting glances from side to side but the other
ladies seemed to be looking straight ahead. Maggie sighed and went on as
before, though she stopped trying to look haughty and important. Right now she
would settle for quiet and inconspicuous.

The golden carpet seemed to be leading
them to a new area—a vast, open place that looked like a ballroom or a banquet
hall from the glimpses Maggie could get through the high, arching double doors.
Rich golden light was pouring out of them and soft strains of music could be
heard as they got closer.

Kor seemed to know exactly what to do. He
kept close to her, walking at her back like a very tall, very imposing body
guard. Now that they were out among the other Mistresses and slaves he was
completely silent, as were most of the other slaves. Clearly a ‘don’t speak
until spoken to’ rule was the order of the day.

As they came to the large double doors,
Maggie noticed that each slave and mistress paused a moment before proceeding
into the large area. She wondered what the hold up was—maybe they were looking
for their places on the seating chart?
Was
there a seating chart? How
would she know where to go?

Maggie put a hand to her throat nervously.
She had always been somewhat socially awkward and big gatherings like this one
increased her social anxiety to sky-high levels. She’d be lucky if she didn’t
trip again and land on her face in front of the entire room.

Kor seemed to sense her nervousness
because he leaned forward and whispered very softly in her ear,

“Everything all right, Mistress?”

“Fine.” Maggie swallowed hard. “I just…I’m
not great in crowds, that’s all. And I get so clumsy when I’m nervous.”

He gave a low chuckle. “So I’ve noticed.
But don’t worry—you’re going to be all right.”

“What if I’m not, though?” she whispered
back. “What if I make a mess or cause another scene or—”

“You won’t.” Maggie felt his large, warm
hand settle on her shoulder and squeeze gently, offering support and
reassurance. “And even if you do, you’re never coming back here. You’ll never
see any of these people again after tonight. So what do you care what they
think?”

“Oh…” Maggie took a deep breath, feeling
calmer. “That’s actually…that’s a really good point.”

“I know. Get ready. We’re coming to the
entrance.”

Just
at that moment they reached
the front of the line and Maggie saw what the hold-up was. As each Mistress
reached the double doors leading into the banquet hall, she paused for a moment
while a Sensorian attendant read her name aloud. Then her slave knelt in front
of her and did something…it was hard to see what, though. Maggie moved to one
side, trying to get a better view without getting out of line. What she saw
made her feel faint.

“Oh my God,” she murmured to Kor. “Did he
just…”

“Kiss her panties? Yes and I’m going to
kiss yours too.” He sounded so matter-of-fact about it that Maggie was a little
shocked. Then she remembered his warning that they might have to do things she
wasn’t comfortable with in order to make it through the night. Clearly he’d
known this was coming.

Before she could protest, they were
standing in the archway formed by the huge double doors. The banqueting hall
spread before them was filled with rich amber light and hung with rose and gold
curtains but Maggie barely noticed any of it because Kor was currently on his
knees before her.

“The Lady Nola Pope’nose of Opulex, Yonnie
Six,” the Sensorian attendant proclaimed. He (or she, Maggie couldn’t tell) was
a pale whitish-pink color which made her think he hadn’t been getting much
emotional nourishment so far tonight.

Well, if they can
feed off embarrassment too, he’ll get full from a few seconds standing by me,
she thought numbly as Kor looked up at her.

“My lady,” he murmured, his large, warm
hands caressing her inner thighs. “Open for me—let me honor you.”

Maggie felt like her legs were glued
together at first. But at his urging, she was slowly able to part them, just a
little.

“Good,” Kor growled softly. Leaning
forward, he pressed a soft, hot, gentle kiss over the tiny white patch of
see-through lace that barely covered her pussy.

Maggie bit back a moan when she felt the
heat of his breath against such a sensitive area. God, wasn’t he done already?
But Kor appeared to want to take his time. He nuzzled her inner thigh, his
rough cheek scratching her tender flesh and making her jump.

“Kor…” she whispered. Her heart was
beating so hard it seemed to shake her entire body. Would this ever be over?

“So sweet…” Kor murmured. He kissed her
again, this time pressing a little deeper, kissing between her legs as though
he wanted to kiss the panties right off her.

“Kor,”
Maggie half moaned. One hand crept down to slide into
his thick, black hair, almost as if she wanted more. God, his breath was so
warm against her flesh and his hands felt so good stroking her thighs… then she
happened to look to the side.

The Sensorian attendant was watching them,
his strange pink and blue Easter egg eyes half-lidded with pleasure. To
Maggie’s shame, his skin had turned a deep pink. Was he feeding off her
embarrassment—or the forbidden heat that was suddenly sweeping through her?

Another question occurred to her. Was Kor
feeling the heat too, or was he just playing his part and faking it? He
certainly didn’t
seem
to be faking—not the way he was pressing his mouth
between her legs. But then, he was used to being a slave and servicing rich
mistresses. So maybe he didn’t feel a thing. Maybe he was just trying to put on
a convincing show.

“That…I think that’s enough,” she
whispered, tugging at him, trying to drag him to his feet.

But he wasn’t so easily dragged. Looking
up, he pinned her with his eyes. The heat in their pale blue depths matched what
she was feeling. Was this real to him too? Did he really enjoy it? Before
Maggie could begin to answer the question, he gave her one last, deliberate
kiss right in the center of her pussy.

“Mistress,” he murmured in a low, rough
voice. “It is a pleasure to honor you.”

Maggie bit her lip…if the panties hadn’t
been in the way…

But they are in the
way,
she told herself sternly as Kor finally
rose and they continued their forward progress.
And as long as they are, it
isn’t really like I’m cheating on Donald. I mean, we
have
to do this or we’ll be found out. And I’ve still got clothes
on so—

Her hasty internal justification was cut
short when Kor murmured something in her ear.

“What?” Maggie whispered back.

“I said I believe we are in this rondula,
my lady,” he murmured.

Maggie wanted to ask what a rondula was
but she didn’t want to appear conspicuous. Instead, she looked where he was
pointing and saw a cluster of about eight chaise lounges, all padded in rich,
buttery leather and grouped in a circle. The plush lounges appeared to come in
four different tones—gold, rose pink, black or white.

Looking around, Maggie could see that the
entire huge room was divided up into such small, circular groups—apparently
this was what Kor had meant by ‘rondula.’ She’d been on a cruise once, a short
three day one which had been hard to enjoy as Donald had complained bitterly
about missing work the entire time. Dinner on the cruise ship had been arranged
in somewhat the same way. You ate a table with a few other guests you didn’t
know every evening, supposedly to make the atmosphere more homey and less
impersonal.

Am I supposed to make
friends with these women?
Maggie eyed the other
mistresses doubtfully. She’d never been great at just jumping right into
conversation. She always seemed to say the wrong thing or spill something on
someone somehow.
Or pull the wig off their head leaving them completely
bald—oh, no!

Because the mistress sitting in the lounge
beside the one Kor was pointing to just happened to be the same woman whose wig
Maggie had inadvertently snatched.

Why?
she thought.
Why couldn’t I have been sitting by
someone else—
anyone
else but
her?
She wasn’t sure if she ought to apologize again or not. However, the
wig woman—as Maggie was beginning to think of her—simply gave Maggie a haughty
look and turned to speak to someone else. Well, maybe she would be content if
they just ignored each other. It would be a little awkward but Maggie was used
to social awkwardness—it was practically her middle name.

“My lady,” Kor murmured again and she
realized he was waiting for her to sit down. The chaise he was standing by was
pure white and had a stiff little place card with the words,
Lady Pope’nose
in
flowing script sitting on it.

“Thank you, Kor,” she murmured and allowed
him to help her onto the chaise. Around her, most of the other lounges were
occupied by other mistresses. In the center of the grouping sat a round table
filled with all kinds of fruits and finger foods as well as goblets filled with
pale pink liquid and little golden plates. Some of the other slaves were
already feeding their mistresses and as soon as Kor got her situated, he
proceeded to fill a little plate for her as well.

“Got you mostly fruit,” he murmured as he
knelt beside her lounge. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Fine,” she whispered. “But what about
you?”

“Slaves eat later. Open up.” He popped a
square red fruit a little bigger than a grape into her mouth.

Maggie’s teeth barely touched it before
the thin skin gave with a gush of sweet juice that filled her mouth.

“Mmmph!” she exclaimed in surprise. The
flavor was surprisingly complex, reminding her of passion fruit, watermelon and
strangely, buttered popcorn.

“Oops, here my lady—you’re dripping.” Kor
pressed a white linen napkin to the side of her mouth.

“Thank you,” Maggie whispered. “I didn’t
expect it to be so juicy.”

“Neither did I but juicy is good. Very
good.” His half-lidded gaze as he spoke made her cheeks get hot but Maggie was
determined not to let him tease her.

“I’d like another, please,” she said,
lifting her chin.

“You say please and thank you to your
slaves?”
The strident voice appeared to belong to the wig woman, who was sitting on
Maggie’s right. Apparently she had decided to talk after all. Her wig was still
askew and the gown she was wearing was a vivid purple with a deep v-neck that
looked like it might fall off and leave her half naked at any time. Her slave
was a good fifteen years younger than her and he stood by her with his eyes
down, waiting to feed her another morsel from the plate he held.

“Well, I mean…it’s just good manners,”
Maggie said, uncertain of what else to say. “Saying please and thank you and…and
I’m sorry,” she added meaningfully. "I mean
realy
sorry."

Wig woman sniffed. “I suppose but I’ve
always felt it gives slaves an inflated sense of importance if you treat them
like actual
people
.” She frowned at Maggie. “I’m Yoli Ponce’beast by the
way. I don’t believe we were
formally
introduced before.”

“No. No, we weren’t.” Maggie cleared her
throat. “I’m, uh…Pope’nose. Nola Pope’nose. Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t
know if she was supposed to offer to shake hands or not but as Lady Ponce’beast,
aka wig woman, simply lay there on her chaise not moving, she decided not to
try.