Chapter 3

He and Bev walked, arm in arm, to the banquet hall where the nights main events were going to take place. The room could hold hundreds of people, easily, and allowed for the members to mingle and socialize. In each corner, cages were built out from the wall that held a dozen slaves. The cages opened and closed, regularly, as members pulled selected objects for use or returned others. Along the back and sides were several banquet tables decorated with an impressive spread of foods and delicacies. A small army of worker slaves scurried about catering to every whim.

One of those worker slaves approached them with a tray of drinks. “Drinks, masters?” She said, offering the options on the tray. They each took a glass of milk-rum and then the slave moved to offer her tray to other arriving members.

He swished the liquid around and held it to the light, a solid opaque white, he sipped some into his mouth, fresh with a perfect texture. He hummed in approval, the first time he was here, he could not believe they served milk to the guests even milk mixed with rum. Once he learned where it came from he had a change of heart. He surveyed the room until he found the source of the milk. A line of slaves strapped to chairs along one wall. Each slave sported a pair of massive balloon tits. Attached to each breast was a pumping machine, like ones used to milk cows, that filled a tank with fresh human milk. According to The Foundation these special slaves were given prolactin to stimulate lactation without a pregnancy. The milk was then mixed with rum, bottled, and served to members at a premium. It was one of his favorite parts of being a Foundation member and given his current dilemma made him a little sad. He had to figure out a way to keep all of this.

“I’m going to mingle a bit I’ll meet you at the table in a little while,” he said, freeing his arm from Bev.

“Ok, have fun.” He heard her say but he was already moving away.

He needed to find Mantessa and talk with her. He did a few rounds through the hall making small talk when he had to. Finally, Viperella arrived with Mantessa on her arm. Viperella had the body of a comic book heroine, massive tits, narrow waist, wide hips, and a runway models height. A copse of long, green hair quaffed outward to resemble the hood of a cobra head. She was mixing up her snakes if anyone asked him, none the less, the look was effective. A green dress stretched from the waist, covered just the nipples of each mound, went over the shoulders, and crossed the center of a bare back. From the waist, hung a lace skirt, like the one Bev wore, only this did not reach passed the middle of Viperella’s thighs. It was also slit up the side, so the flank of each ass cheek was bare. Knee high Stiletto boots completed the look.

He moved quickly to the couple and greeted them with the broadest smile he could muster. “Hello ladies, you both look ravishing tonight.”

“Hello Tartarus. You look, well, like you tonight. Where is Bluefox, not in the room packing your bags, I hope. I heard she was cutting you off. It would be about time she is too good for you.”

Evan grit his teeth at the jibe. Was Bev airing our dirty laundry to other members. He tried to remove any irritation from his voice, “No, she’s around here somewhere, socializing. She says she will be attending the orgy dens, later tonight, will you ladies be joining her?”

“We might. I haven’t decided yet. After all, I must rest before beating you in the scene contest.”

“I wish you luck,” he said, with feigned honesty.

He could see Viperella’s jaw tighten at her inability to get a reaction from him. Good, that’s what he wanted. He stole a look at Mantessa who stood silent clinging to Viperella’s arm eyes downcast. “How are you tonight Mantessa?”

The shorter woman looked up and began to mouth a response, “Don’t speak to her,” Viperella spoke before Mantessa could get a word out. Mantessa’s gaze drooped back to the floor her moment to speak past. “Come on, we have nothing else to say to him,” Viperella said, and pulled Mantessa away. Evan watched as the two women moved away. Yes, something was wrong, in that relationship. What did he know about them? Viperella was in her late twenties, twenty-eight or nine, Mantessa a few years younger twenty-four, or five he thought. That was about all he knew and the face paint obscuring their identities made finding out any more difficult. No matter, all he had to do was get Mantessa alone for even a short time.

The members began migrating to the center of the banquet hall and taking seats at the round tables provided. He met Bev and they took seats beside one another. The remaining four seats filled up quickly with: Dogor, Red Owl, Aristotle, and Augustine joining them. Dogor, always one of the more Epicurean members, balanced a chestnut skinned slave on one knee while she dropped grapes into his grinning mouth.