Chapter 13

The invitation had insisted that the dress code would be "outrageous". Most guests had gladly obliged. First and for all the Lady Huntington. She was Lord Alfred's wife and hostess of the evening. She and her lovely daughter wore salmon and sea green satins. They were as tight and generously cut out as their perfect bodies allowed. The Lady is a petite Thai princess in her early forties. She looks hardly a day older than her stunning sixteen-year-old daughter.

It was so special to watch them over the rim of her glass. To enjoy the elegance of their movements. The sweet and subtle way they smiled. Their suave and worldly manners, erudite conversations. At the same time Angique remembered the night the daughter knelt before her father. It had been right here in this same room, en plein publique. She had opened his trousers with delicate hands. Then she had taken his cock in her mouth. It slid down right to the entrance of her throat and made her lips stretch. Her tiny fingers were hardly able to circumvent its base. Her other hand caressed the heavy balls.

She also remembered how her own mother had abused her virgin little ass hole with a long and slender strapped on dildo. Her pushes urged her to take her father in to the root. She had gagged on his erection.

Turning her attention to the host himself, Angique smiled at him. She saw him converse with a Negro couple. They were very tall and distinguished both. Sir Alfred saw her smile, and he invited her over to introduce her. Their names were African and hard to reproduce. They were from Tanzania and allowed her to call them John and Elizabeth. She had never seen them before and she was much impressed by John, who was at least six foot five and displayed his exposed chest of oiled ebony. He only wore tight black leather leggings. They set off his strong muscles and hard butt. Curved highlights played with his impressive bulge.

Elizabeth was only a few inches shorter. Her head was shaven. It gave her the breathtaking looks of the Egyptian queen Nefertiti. She had almond eyes and pillowed lips, a long and gracious neck. She only wore a sheer sarong-like wrap in purest gold around her slick limbs. It exposed more than it covered the firm and pointy globes of her breasts.

They were on a tour in Europe, they told her. They were very grateful that Sir Alfred invited them as guests of honour.

Sir Alfred excused himself. He was immediately replaced by the Comtesse Emilie and her younger sister Eugenie. They were two regulars with excellent, but very snobby taste. They were highly opinionated and had ferocious sexual appetites. They dressed both in fine white leather. Their semi-over bust corsets were laced tightly at the back to tuck in their narrow waists. At the same time they accented their hips and pushed up their breasts.

Emilie was wearing a gold brocade full skirt lifted at the front to show off her shining stockings. Eugenie only wore garters and silver stockings. Their gold and silver ankle boots were in embroidered silk. They laced through a myriad of tiny holes and sported 18^th century style heels.

They exchanged greetings with candy-laced smiles. Both Ladies complimented Angique on her entree and the stunning couple she brought with her for amusement. Angique tried to introduce them to John and Elizabeth. But they hastened to assure her that they had already met before. The Countess pointedly looked at John's main asset. Her sister couldn't keep her eyes off Elizabeth's chest. That gave Angique a flash of imagination. She saw John lift Emilie's brocade skirt at the back and push his immense cock between her cheeks.

Then she was plucked out of her reverie by a silver chime. The voice of the butler informed them that dinner would be served.

The table was set in a giant oval and decked with the purest white damask. China plates and crystal glasses caught the candlelight. They cast it back in a splattering of floating stars. The silver shone and made the lights dance along the ceiling at every touch.

The lovely, naked music ensemble stopped playing. A sudden murmuring silence deepened until it was almost total. All eyes turned to where Sir Alfred sat, the host of the evening. He rose to address his guests before the first course would be served.

"Friends", he said with his deep and rumbling voice. "Our meetings really are too few and too far apart. Je vous souhaite le bienvenue, I wish you all a hearty welcome. I hope tonight will be as satisfying as suits our tradition." A soft rap of fingertips ran around the table. People murmured their agreement.

He then lifted his glass of excellent Chablis. All followed his example. They sipped carefully after toasting the success of things to come. Then Sir Alfred clapped his hands. The tall doors flew open. The music stroke up the Halleluja of Haendel. And in a fragrant cloud of pink rose petals eight or nine naked children danced into the dining hall. They were girls and boys from six to maybe eight years old. They carried silver plates and balanced them precariously on their tiny hands. Then the first girl slid onto the lap of one of the guests. She fed him a small amuse on a spoon. The others followed suit. Soon a pretty little pink angel pecked Angique on the cheek. It settled its plump butt onto her leather thighs. She felt the delicious heat seep through. The child laughed and sang an Italian children's song. The Halleluja kept drowning all.

The amuse was a tiny quail's egg with a delicious mustard sauce. It melted on the tongue. The little girl kissed Angique once more with her syrupy lips and flew on. All around the table smiling faces met smiling faces. The air itself seemed to have turned into spun sugar. Fireflies danced where the silverware caught the light.

She saw tight little naked bums being pinched. A pouting child's mouth suckled on a woman's ripe nipple. A man's finger disappeared into a baby bare slit. But all the while the dance went on. It was like a merry go round until the last guest had been served. Then the carnival of laughter and movement fled the room again. It left the guests out of breath. Bright flushed faces mirrored the delight of the moment.

The music sank back into the murmurs of conversation. The butler announced the first course: huge ice-filled silver plates covered with open oysters and other seashells. Before the guests could reach out, though, the host stood yet again. He got their attention by striking his glass with a spoon.

"Friends", he started. "Before feasting on these delicious and invigorating delicatessen I'd once again like to remind you. The stimulation of your taste buds is only part of the carnival of the senses I planned for you tonight..." He again clapped his hands. The doors opened. And on the first movements of Vivaldi's Summer the doorway filled with a group of the most erotic girls and boys Angique ever set eyes on. They represented all the physical beauty this world is able to produce. Blondes and brunettes were there, Negro princesses and Scandinavian athletes. Delicate Asian dolls displayed their porcelain skin. A tall Nubian male was only dressed in the oiled splendour of his blue-black skin. A lovely petite blonde curly headed teenage girl leaned against him.

All looked excited. They seemed aroused, flushed with anticipation... as were the guests. Sir Alfred smiled widely. He made an inviting gesture and said: "Allez, mes petites... bon appetit!"

The splendid troupe danced forward, then fell on all fours to crawl under the table.

It was great to look around the table and watch the faces. To see how they all tried to keep up a nice conversation. How they tried not to betray their increasing arousal from what happened between their legs down there. The hanging tablecloth shielded the mysterious darkness under the table.

A delicious shiver ran up Angique's spine. She felt a hand climb along her legs, slowly up towards her inner thigh. She opened slightly. She felt a moisture form. For a second she had to close her eyes. Then she lifted her oyster to let the salty morsel slide down her throat. She tried to guess whose hand it was. And she had to admit she neglected the older neighbour on her left for a while. Wasn't that a tiny, soft hand? It must be the teenage girl. Yes. Weren't those her soft curls that tickled her skin through the flimsy leather? Wasn't that her head moving up towards her crotch? Oh, God... how divine this was...

She still felt the subsiding tremors of release slither down her limbs. Her eyes toured the grand oval of the table. Her skin seemed glued with sweat to the flimsy leather covering it. She glowed like a candle.

The girls and boys down there must by now be mostly finished with their exquisite service. Many a guest slumped slightly in his or her seat. Their eyes were glazed over, their chests heaved rapidly.

One of the valets, a tall Negro, clapped his hands. Angique saw their sweet tormentors crawl from under the hanging damask. Such a wonderful sight. Faces shone with spent juices and globs of creamy sperm. Hair looked sticky, skin was flush with heat and excitement.

All slaves were smiling. They licked the juices off of each other's bodies and faces. The little curly haired child ran a tongue Angique knew so well over the drenched face of a Chinese girl. They huddled together, and giggled as they left the room on their way to be tidied. They would no doubt be prepared for yet another service.

Angique noted that the music had stopped. The gap slowly filled with murmuring voices. Laughs sounded and excited exclamations, comments on what had happened. People started to concentrate on the iced seafood in front of them.

When the empty shells had been removed, a deep throbbing drumbeat made the air vibrate. The doors opened. The lights lowered. Silhouetted against the glaring light stood the tallest giant Angique ever saw. He was totally bald and shaven. He was at least seven feet of gleaming bluish black muscle. He carried a huge drum, which he beat so loud and deep that she felt her bowels vibrate with it.

He stepped forward. He swayed the leopard's skin that protected his body from the drum. And behind him strutted two naked midgets. They stepped out of the light into the candle lit dusk of the room, a man and a woman the size of children. Their enormous heads wore wreaths of ivy around two perfect little horns. Their legs and feet were covered to look like the hooves of goats. A tail swept from their chubby behinds. The male dwarf played a pan's flute. His woman held a silver chain and oh...

"My heart skipped at least three beats when I saw who was on the leash. She walked in silver splendour. Her shy eyes were fixed on the floor before her."

The backlight made her silver skull shine like a halo. Liquid light leaked off her shoulders. It fingered her breasts' outlines whenever she swayed them left or right. The adorning jewels tingled at every step. The booming drum and the sensuous flute drowned their music.

Clarize moved into the creamy candlelight. It played all over her gorgeous body. It licked at her like a thousand tongues. Her face rose proudly now. Brilliant eyes swept the breathless room through wide slits in her mask. The dancing flames set off her chains and collar. The silver ball gagged her into a look of eternal surprise. The swaying lilies and the metal bracelets and anklets were all proud signs of her slavedom.

Beside her was Brynn. His huge head reached her elbow. The lighting of the room and his leather headpiece demonized his appearance. Maybe Angique was the only one in that room who knew that his attitude wasn't mere theatre. She knew how he'd really tear apart each and everyone foolish enough to harm his bitch. Even the Negro giant with the drum would not be save.

No one knew that only one small, two-letter word from Angique's lips stood between him or her and a painful death.

"I looked around the table. I felt so much joy and pride as I watched those greedy faces, the bulging eyes, and the open mouths. My girl, I whispered under my breath... my girl, you horny bastards. I found her, I trained her, she is mine. You considered me a slave, treated me like a slave. Now know me as the Mistress I am. The Mistress of the most perfect creatures you'll ever meet.

A warm wave of satisfaction rushed through my body".

The dwarves and the Nubian led the chained girl and her Master to a platform next to the music stand. It was a stage that up to now had been hidden by heavy black curtains. The stage itself was black too. In the spotlighted centre of it stood a young, curly blonde. She was totally naked. The white creaminess of her skin dazzled in the lights. She smiled and invited Clarize to climb the few steps up to the stage. Then she was to stand in the middle. Two spotlights showered her with a silver flood. Brynn stood beside his bitch. Then he sank to his haunches and lay against her feet. He growled from the deep abyss of his throat.

The blonde whispered a word. Clarize spread her arms. She waited for two chains to be lowered from the ceiling. The girl clicked both bracelets to the chains. The dwarf slowly cranked her arms upwards until she was stretched on the ball of her toes. A sigh ran through the audience. The young girl softly caressed the taut body and kissed each breast ever so lightly. Then she sank next to Brynn at the other side of Clarize's feet.

The drum's roaring voice was silenced. The flute let its last note hang in the musk-scented air. Wafts of perfume drifted around the guests on syrupy breezes. All the while she stood there. She stood tense and trembling, tottering on the painted tips of her toes.

She was a shining torch to submissive glory.

The evening's host rose. He commanded attention without even raising his voice.

"Tonight's special guest", he said and smiled in her direction. "La magnifique Angélique... ("I blushed in the dark")... has brought us something really extraordinary."

He turned towards the stage and gestured. "A hundred and sixty pounds of immaculately trained, iron muscle, clad in shining fur."

A modest applause rippled through the room like a brook in a forest. "A magnificent brute guarding his bitch, the amazing Clarize. She has been in training for just a few months, but she is showing incredible talent."

Again hand palms touched in the dark. Now they even mingled with low, breathy whistles. He turned towards the table again and almost whispered:

"Que la fête commence..."

The orchestra plunged into a dark and melancholic suite unknown to Angique. It was dominated by a cello's vibrant sadness and the low throbs of the drum. The strange, strange music moved her almost to tears. It strummed at the strings of her erotic being with a force she knew so well. Angique sighed. She heaved her exposed chest. Then she slowly sat back to watch the glorious angel and her Master perform.

The blonde, curly cherub at her feet stirred. She rose and slid her body all along Clarize's legs and thighs. She let her tiny hands flutter over the oiled skin. They were two white butterflies in the limelight. She smiled. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the dangling slave girl. Then she sank to her knees and spread Clarize's legs as wide as she could. She fastened the rings in the leather cuffs to short chains hooked to the floor.

"All the while I tried to imagine Clarize's thoughts. They must cartwheel through her captive brain. They were imprisoned behind the mask and gag ball. Even from here I could see shining rivulets of honey seep past the cruel silver. It cupped her bound paradise. Maybe she was scared and afraid, my love. And yet she was so helplessly aroused. The greedy hunger of her own body must imprison her. None of her will seemed left. She had no control over her passions. She was utterly enslaved by her urging needs."

("Don't be afraid, sweet thing. Trust your Master. No one will hurt you more than he allows. Trust him... no one can be as safe as you are right now... Just know how proud I am... and how I envy your sweet fate")

They watched the torch of her body. It shone in the silver glare of the spotlights. Her oiled and painted skin was a liquid splendour. Lovely little tremors ran the length of her limbs. So much like a precious thoroughbred mare she was. Her nerves were tense, but she moved not even one muscle.

Angique saw the admiring glances from the petite blonde companion. She noted the majestic bearing of her canine Master. And she felt proud knowing how impressed everyone was. A sigh left her throat.