. 26-28

XXVI.

Lisa informed Jenn, early one morning, that they'd been invited to a very ritzy 'do' in the city the following evening. "It's at this opulent Beach Avenue penthouse on False Creek; I've been there once before." Jenn just looked and listened. There was a barely contained excitement in Lisa's voice, hovering just beneath the surface. It was as if she had a secret just about to burst out of her. "The host is this marvelous older gentleman. Older but still quite spry – and virile," she winked, "so I've heard." Jenn wanted to ask his name but Lisa went on in a flurry. "I met him at a party a few years ago, and our paths continue to cross from time to time. There was an awful lot we had in common, and we seemed to form a fast friendship right away – a real relationship of peers. He once offered to sponsor me into this private sort of association, but it turned out to be way richer than I could ever consider." Jenn wanted to ask all kinds of questions. But wouldn't that be out of character – outside the allowances for someone in her role? She wanted to know why Lisa was so excited. She wanted to know who else would be there. She wanted to know enough to be prepared for what would be expected of her. Still, she remembered Lisa's warning, "It will never be the place of a submissive to correct," or question, she realized, "her mistress – or master."

"Anyway, that's whose place – party we're going to," Lisa finished, as if putting the one sided discussion to rest.

Jenn just nodded. Well aware that she was virtually living her part, an imperceptible shiver flickered over her. Had she internalized her persona to the degree that it had become her? Was unquestioning servility her station in life – her station from here on in? And could she change it; or would she if she could?

They slept late and greeted the noon with a drowsy lethargy. Jenn had pushed the impending 'do', as Lisa called it, aside. She allowed her mind to go blank as they ate a small brunch. Classical CDs played in the background as Jenn retreated into the white room of her subconscious. It was much like Miss Jones' hell in the classic porno flick, but for Jenn, it was a temporary respite from concern, apprehension, thought. Her escape was penetrated by Lisa's chatter. Lisa was bubbling with anticipation. She told Jenn a little more about the host of the impending party. "He's part of an extensive network," she explained, "that reaches around the world; it's pretty exclusive. It's unlikely that anyone else from our circle of acquaintances has been invited. It'll be a whole new crowd. You may not recognize anybody." Jenn thought she detected a bit of mockery or something at the fine edge of that last remark, but Lisa just gave her a smile and a kiss, and went on with things. She sensed something – some veiled message in Lisa, in Lisa's behaviour, that indicated the evening would be somehow very different from all that had gone before; she had no idea how. Nevertheless, at three o'clock she told Jenn to prepare a bath for them. "Then we can take our time getting dressed. And get it just right." They spent the afternoon bathing and pampering with oils and fragrances. It was all very chaste. In some ways, Jenn had let her facade slip. They were just two good friends, chatting and preparing for the ball. It was when they were finished and dried that Jenn, again, felt the yoke settle her back into place.

Lisa began to dictate their preparation. "First, you'll need to purge your bowels," she said as she pulled an enema bag from the cupboard. Jenn's jaw dropped for an instant. It wasn't like it hadn't been said or done before; it was just the suddenness of it – the sudden bluntness coming so fast on the heels of their warm sisterly bath. Recovering her composure rapidly, Jenn took the bag and began to fill it with warm solution. Lisa left the bathroom as Jenn completed her rectal ablution, but returned forthwith with a brocade gym bag, containing, Jenn assumed, her own evening apparel. Jenn's attire, entirely prescribed by Lisa, of course, was to be simple enough. All very familiar to Jenn, it was beginning to be like putting on an old, comfortable robe. Jenn stood, presenting herself in anatomical position while Lisa, with the ease that comes only with practice, fitted her with the supple and intimate leather collar, cuffs, and anklets. When a new belt – or was it a waist strap – appeared in Lisa's hand, and was drawn around Jenn's waist, Jenn accepted it only as the sensible next addition to her paraphernalia. Although a little wider, it matched the rest of the accouterment well. Black leather, lined with silk, it had a secure, silver buckle just left of front centre, and sturdy D-rings at the eight compass points. Lisa stepped back to survey her creation. Her fingers trailed up from the inside of Jenn's right thigh across her clit, leaving it quivering. Jenn's heart abruptly pounded in her chest, and the onslaught of arousal moistened Lisa fingers briefly before they continued, tracing a fine, sticky trail up to the waist strap, up over Jenn's navel and into the crease below her right breast. Hesitating only a moment, Lisa let her fingers walk up and over to close quickly on Jenn's already erect nipple. Jenn gasped involuntarily, the flood of sensation reverberating – amplifying within. "No! Not yet." Lisa's voice was soft but firm.

Her nipple released, Jenn felt Lisa's fingers hook the front loop of her collar. She could tell that Lisa was reaching to pick something up with the other hand. Pulling violently on the collar, Lisa jammed her lips against Jenn's, spearing her mouth with a stiffened pointed tongue. Simultaneously, Jenn felt a thick semi-flexible dildo push abruptly between her open nether lips and stab deep into her. It slid out and in, quickly, a couple strokes before Lisa relaxed the pressure on Jenn's lips and said huskily, "Hold it in," leaving the dildo with a last push.

"It even has the weight of large cock," Jenn thought, amazed that she could still think let alone devise such bizarre analogies at a time like that.

Jenn stood trembling, as colour swirled before her eyes. She felt Lisa's hand pushing her lower back, and she acquiesced, bending over Lisa's other arm that held her across the waist. With no preliminaries, a rather large, cone shaped butt-plug was pushed unceremoniously into her backside. Rubbing against the dildo in the other path, it settled in with a pop. Jenn felt her anus snap back against the stem – narrower than the main plug but still holding her rosebud stretched open. She was filled, but the swift rectal invasion had quelled her jangle. As lucid thought returned, she wondered, once again, how this had all come about – not out of regret, only curiosity. Jenn put her hands on her knees to support herself, waiting for Lisa's next move – next order. A delicate metallic tinkling came from behind her. "Up!" Lisa ordered. Jenn responded quickly, concentrating on her pelvic floor to hold in the front visitor. Lisa knelt between Jenn's legs and set to work about her waist. She clipped a fine metal chain to the waist ring just below Jenn's navel, then threaded it through an eye on the end of the phallus that protruded from her vulva. Passing the chain back between Jenn's legs, Lisa then pulled it through the corresponding eye on the anal plug, then clipped onto the centre rear ring of her waist belt; just at her lower spine. The chain lay, not tight, but taut in her furrow – firm against the appliances. Neither insertion could possibly come loose.

"Well?" Lisa asked rhetorically, stepping back again to admire her handiwork. Jenn remained silent. Her short hair, pale skin and eyes wide in confusion made her look young – a mere child in bondage, waiting passively – helplessly – for whatever fate had in store. Watching one another, motionless, – Jenn warily, Lisa appraisingly – the silence between them seemed to grow and tower. What else were they anyway, but children, playing on the beach, playing in the dirt? An electricity discharged as Lisa smiled approvingly, nodded and turned back to the wardrobe. "Hmmm, what shall I wear?" she muttered.

Installing herself in an easy chair Lisa had Jenn pull out various garments to hold up before dismissing them. Finally she chose a full-length, extremely low cut formal gown. After Jenn had lain it on the bed, she followed the further royal commands of Lisa, who, sitting still in the soft chair, pointed and directed Jenn in displaying and choosing hose, jewelry and shoes. Lisa's excitement was abating, or if not actually abating, then settling. Her demeanour had smoothly changed – leveled out – from flighty chatter to calm control. Almost reciprocally, Jenn felt herself losing her quiet acceptance to a nervous disquiet. Her outlandish regalia made her much aware of every move she made. The rubbing of the chains along her cleft and the working of the pieces within her at every step – every turn – highlighted her position and amplified her doubts about what the evening would bring.

Combing and brushing and twisting Lisa's long blonde tresses into an elegant French braid awakened a warm nostalgia in Jenn. When had she done that last? And had it then been to a different Lisa – or Lucy? A sweet tear ran down her cheek before she allowed the more carnal sensations of her bonds to chase away those distant memories – distant now in circumstances as well as time. Referring to the pages of books, to the orders and suggestions of her subject, Jenn skillfully applied Lisa's make-up, subtly and effectively accenting her already alluring features. The jewelry chosen for the soiree was simple, light, and expensive. A short string of pearls interspersed with diamonds, a matching bracelet, and simple earrings each with one diamond between two pearls. "A gift," Lisa announced, in answer to Jenn's unspoken question. Jenn pulled on Lisa's burgundy stay-up silk stockings, smoothing them out and aligned the tops at Lisa's cream thighs. Any underwear at all would, Jenn agreed, spoil the lines. Slipping into sling-backed ultra high heels, of such a deep wine hue as to almost be black, Lisa let Jenn sink to her knees to straighten the straps. She tolerated Jenn's hands running, once again, up her silk encased legs to pause on the outside of her hips. She pushed Jenn away as her nose brushed Lisa's perfumed bush. "My dress," she demanded. Jenn rose, her rectal muscles grasping at their visitor, her vaginal muscles pulsing against theirs. She turned to lift the dress, little more than a tube of thin material, from the bed. Holding it out for Lisa, Jenn guided Lisa's heels through and helped her to wriggle it up over her hips. The gown, in a bottomless burgundy cut velvet, fit like a second skin. Its tight sheath molded to Lisa's shapely body, accentuating, in her, the feminine more than the athletic. She was exceedingly glamorous – resplendent. Lisa covered up with a lightweight, calf-length, soft leather coat.

Lisa herself then pulled from the closet a heavy full-length silver fox fur cloak, which she tenderly laid over Jenn's shoulders, carefully fastening the clasp at her neck. Moving once more in front of Jenn, she raised Jenn's hands from within the cape and placed them solemnly on her own bosom. They stared into one another's eyes in heavy silence. Lisa's gaze was full of meaning – meaning which Jenn could not quite grasp; Jenn's eyes were alight with trepidation yet tinged with eagerness. Lisa's calm had become a decidedly cool sophistication through the preparations, while Jenn had inwardly wound up to a nervousness that bordered on delirium.

Producing another length of the same chain that clung to Jenn's nether regions, using a tiny sprung shackle, Lisa clipped one end to Jenn's right wrist ring. Without saying a word, hardly moving her eyes from Jenn's face, she fed the delicate links through the same ring to which the other length was attached, at Jenn's waist. Pulling on it gently and slowly bringing Jenn's left wrist down to meet the ascending end, Lisa snapped on the other little shackle, effectively tethering Jenn's arms. Lisa's stare was almost hypnotic as she magically retrieved a final chain and clipped the spring clamps firmly onto Jenn's nipples. Jenn's eyes grew wide but she strained herself and remained silent. Removing her own arms and stepping back, Lisa let the heavy cape close softly over Jenn's limbs.

She checked the clock just as the doorbell rang, and they descended in silence to the hired limousine. Jenn felt ill. She was almost overcome with a sickly sweet mixture of dread and desideratum; it was as though she were making her debut, which, in a way, she was. Her agitation was not exactly assuaged by Lisa's nonchalant manipulation of her genitals for most of the trip into the city, while chatting about this and that. Jenn was unaware of the conversation, her mind in turmoil. She found sitting on the phalluses for any length of time to be rather uncomfortable, yet it was also, somehow, invigorating. The nipple clamps hurt a little, but it was a delicious sort of pain. Lisa knew Jenn well enough to be able to keep her very close to the edge of climax without letting her escape into orgasm. As the fingers idly danced about her clitoris, Jenn fought to control her urge to squirm. She wanted to scream, "Please, please! Finish it!" but she said nothing as Lisa had asked that the partition be kept open, and included the driver in some of her chat. As they arrived at the False Creek block Lisa, calm as toast, paid the driver, who helped her, then Jenn from the car. Jenn was silent. She couldn't trust herself to say anything. She was so keyed up she thought she would explode. Her interior musculatures were paralytically gripping the hidden accessories. She moved slowly beside Lisa, barely able to nod her absent appreciation of the driver. As they approached the lobby, the limo quietly departed. Lisa led Jenn slowly to the far right elevator, and as she pressed the call button, Jenn's heart hammered, like it was about to leap out of her mouth and take her stomach with it. Beyond nervous, she was suddenly scared. Lisa spoke briefly at the intercom.

The elevator arrived, its doors opening with a slight hiss. Through a fog of overstimulation Jenn let herself be guided into the cubicle. As soon as the doors closed, leaving them alone for a moment, Lisa reached down into the front of Jenn's cloak, and with consummate skill, brought Jenn off quickly. It was a modest climax, not surprisingly given the melee of apprehension clouding her thoughts; nonetheless, it was a welcome relief. As the lift stopped and the doors began to open, Lisa whispered, "Don't worry. You'll do just fine."

Jenn was still dazed and flushed from her climax. Her confusion lent an air of innocence or naïveté to her blushing face. "Just fine at what?" she asked silently, "What am I going to be expected to do?” Although she felt, in some ways, far too old to be doing this, she was as nervous and giddy as a teenage debutante at her coming out. Dazzled by the sudden bright light suddenly streaming into the elevator, dazzled by her inner turmoil, Jenn hesitated; Lisa nudged her elbow. As they stepped over the threshold, onto the plush carpet of the opulent entry foyer, a man with silver white hair turned toward them and smiling broadly, beckoned them enter. The doors of the elevator slid silently closed behind them, as it descended to collect more guests.

The host was a short robust man well into his sixties, Jenn imagined. His hair was moderate in length and covered his entire pate. It was well trimmed and styled, and lay without a single strand out of place. His round face was big without being even the slightest bit chubby. His smile was so wide it broke his face in two; the upper part being held aloft by the buoyancy of his twinkling eyes. Straight white teeth sparkled mischievously between his bright lips – lips that looked to Jenn to be soft, even, and it surprised her that she could even consider this at that moment, inviting. His upper lip was held in place by a severe, well-clipped, white mustache. He wore a pale blue silk shirt with a wonderfully colourful cravat tied loosely at his neck. Loose silk pants, held up by rather classy, buttoned suspenders, slouched down to the argyle socks and leather mule slippers on his feet. Even his comfortable shuffle, through the familiar plush of his own realm, suggested a ready vivacity – just waiting, just beneath the obvious.

Over his shoulder the hubbub of early party chatter emanated through an open archway, from another room. Jenn glimpsed, for an instant, another pair of guests disappear into around the corner, one of whom, the female, Jenn realized, wore nothing but stockings. Did that make her more relaxed – obviously not the only submissive in the place – or more apprehensive? She wasn't sure but she decided, in that short moment, that regardless of whether the presence of others in her position was a comfort or an agitation, it was a welcome distraction – somehow a reassurance. Her brief contemplation went unnoticed by the others, as did her way she very subtly shed some of her gathered tension. The voice of the host brought her, a little more easily, back to the reality of the situation.

"Ah, Lisa!" he effused. "So nice of you to come.” He gave Lisa a warm hug and a peck before saying, "Let me have your coat, dear." So far, he had completely ignored Jenn, who, still somewhat self-consciously, stood slightly behind. He continued to exchange felicities with Lisa, as he took her coat and held it out toward the closet.

A man, adorned with nothing but leather straps and thongs, was busy hanging an impressive long mink. He finished with the fur just in time to receive Lisa's coat and began struggling to hang it. Jenn barely had a glimpse of the back of the – what? butler? closet attendant? coat-man? – before she thought it wisest to drop her eyes once again. As her eyes hit the floor she realized, in quick retrospect, the 'coat-man's' struggling was due to his tethered wrists. "Ah, another one of us," she mused, "how very odd." She was very tempted to look again. But something restrained her.

"I see you've brought a new friend," the host remarked warmly, "someone I don't believe I've met." Jenn glanced up and straight into his vivid blue almost violet eyes – so deep they made her shiver. She detected in his words, though pleasant and hearty, a tinge – slightly more than an inkling of lust – wild lust.

Lisa began introductions. "Roland dear, this is Jenn," then looking at Jenn, "Jenn, Roland is the old and dear friend whom I told you about."

"Come, come, not that old, child. Still smoke from the chimney," he laughed, gesturing at his silver-white hair, his laugh comforting and soothing, rolling like distant thunder; "and fire in the furnace," he added, briefly clutching himself and shaking merrily at his own joke.

Grasping her hand he said, all joking now aside, with only the slightest suggestion of crude lust shading his voice, "Enchanted, I'm sure." He raised her hand just far enough to feel her tether beneath the cloak, and smiled at that.

Jenn nodded in response. Lisa had given her very little in terms of instruction for this affair, so she felt more than a little lost. "A pleasure," she whispered, her eyes dropping in deference, her hand limp in his.

Then turning to Lisa, without dropping Jenn's hand, the host – Roland – winked and whispered, "Very enchanting."

There was a sudden albeit brief pause, one of those times when, for no apparent reason, everyone in a place momentarily ceases speaking or moving. To Jenn, it was like a random snapshot, and, at that moment, her eyes fell on the penis of the man in the coat closet. It looked almost forlorn, hanging not quite straight down, partially flaccid, a small leather collar buckled snugly at its base, a tight black ball-bag covering the testicles like an executioner's hood, and a thong appearing from between his legs to snap to the ring on the underside of the collar. She had a sudden urge to kiss it – the poor thing.