Chapter 15

Soiree.

There was snow on the terrace. And there was snow on the mountains. A curtain of fat, slow flakes billowed down from the low sky. It muffled all sounds. All echoes were silenced.

Snow didn't often fall in these foothills; the magic would soon melt away again. But tonight the Villa stood like a bride clad in white velvet. Snow wrapped itself all around her sensuous limbs. Yellow light spilt from the blazing jewels of her windows.

The great hall was filled with festive gathering. Silvery laughter danced on top of deeper voices. Crystal chandeliers spread their dazzling light into each niche and ornamented corner. Jewels and beads shone on creamy throats. Exquisite chests and shoulders caught the caressing lights and were moulded into the slick roundness of marble.

Angique knew how to flatter the female flesh. Hidden lights and a scattering of mirrors gave each woman the magical kiss of perfect illusion. Whatever her age or complexion. Entering this glorious hall was like plunging into a fountain of youth. Smiles appeared, brows relaxed. Blasé mistresses turned into careless girls, stern masters into reckless boys. And it brought a naughty gleam to the eyes of their entourage of enslaved creatures.

The soiree had been planned for months. Thousands of details had been carefully considered. The list of invitees, and maybe just as important: the list of the not-invited. The table setting had been studied thoroughly, of course. The dinner, the music. And the entertainment.

In fact, this evening would be Angique's début as a reigning mistress. She would be walking the very thin line between success and failure. Of course there were Sir Alfred and his exotic wife, two of her staunchest supporters. But there would also be the Comtesse and her clique of aristocrat sceptics. They had never forgiven her the quick rise from the lowest dungeons of slavery into their exclusive world of absolute domination.

Angique had spent whole nights considering her list of invitations. It would have been easy to tip the balance and turn the attendance into a claque of friends and admirers. That would, however, be the worst decision she could make. It would turn the evening into a non-event and would give her enemies the exact reason to ignore her.

In fact, she had chosen the bold opposite. Most of her guests would be high-ranking dominants of the ancien régime. Some of their bloodlines reached back to libertines and aristocrats of pre-revolutionary France. Others took their pedigree from Russian émigré circles and the discreet era of Victorian England.

Exactly these were the circles that had been split by her ascendance. Sir Alfred and others had been immediately taken in by the charm and talents of the Belgian girl, her youth and audacity. They wielded an impressive clout in the small world of their expensive lifestyle. But would it ever be enough against the undaunted sisterhood of La Contesse and her buffoons? One slip, like last time, and she would be history.

The Countess had let them leave the seaside villa without any more trouble. She had even provided some clothing and transport to the airport. But Angique knew for certain that she had made an enemy for life.

The newly acquired enemy had arrived as one of the last guests of the evening. She'd entered the villa in a flurry of snowflakes and expensive furs. She scaled the steps on her most dangerous heels. As a last moment's inspiration Angique had arranged for vintage sleighs. Strong black horses had pulled her guests up the driveway, turning it into a cheerful carnival of chiming bells and cracking whips.

By the time they reached the blazing hall, all guests were like excited children. Their eyes sparkled and their cheeks glowed. Hot steaming wine had replaced the usual champagne. All the waiters and waitresses were wrapped in black, shining latex. White lace and furs lined their collars and cuffs.

The vaulted hall was alive with music. It was being played by sweet girls in slinking dresses. The music was of a light classical type, things like Straus's Schneewalzer and the winter part of Vivaldi's Quattre Stagione.

Huge fir trees dominated the walls. Their only adornments were a multitude of bright lights and a spray of snow.

After the Countess's arrival, Angique let out a deep sigh. It made her breasts shiver inside her bodice. Her skin was wrapped entirely in dark red leather, this evening. Her heels were higher than ever. She knew that the tight grip of a well-laced corset would give her the confidence she needed. As would the proud, towering stance the heels gave her. She was more than grateful when indeed they did.

Even more helpful was Clarize. Their Napolitan adventure had turned the Canadian girl into the most ravishing and buoyant of creatures. Her wide blue eyes sparkled once more. Her mouth seemed always set in a most endearing smile. She had at last found her new self and the confidence that came with it. She had fought for it and had been prepared to pay the ultimate price.

For this evening's start Angique had wrapped the girl in a slinking dress of black silk. The soft fabric followed her now almost perfect curves. It left her back bare and allowed the soft hills of her breasts to show. The only accent on her simple, narrow collar was a dangling fleur de lis. No one, Angique thought while she watched, no one could wear this dress with the style and elegance of her newborn lover. It must have been the contrast between her almost arrogant bearing and her warm, hugging openness that stunned the arriving visitors. To know that a woman of such perfect beauty was available at any moment must stir the crotches of every guest, this evening.

Giselle was perfect in her own sweet way. She wore a blue satin dress. It hugged her strong little feline body. It was short on her thighs and high against her throat. Her free tits drummed inside the shining material at every step she took on her daring heels. Angique had decided she would get every chance to radiate her hard won sexuality in the easy, innocent way that had become hers these last weeks. The bordello room had definitely washed away her reserves and anguishes. Their touching reunion had established once and for all who she was and where she belonged.

A huge oval table had been set in the ancient ballroom. Angique let her eyes wander around the damask expanse. It was lit by a multitude of tall white candles. Their light spread a sparkling blanket of highlights on silverware, white china and crystal glasses. The faces of the guests were flushed and animated. The conversation was still as lively as it had been from the start.

She felt warm and high with all the attention and compliments she had received. Of course the setting and the unique weather had helped. But the key to all excitement was Clarize. She seemed to be a magnet, electrifying all her guests, from the harshest master down to the most common little cum slave. Giselle was a success. She was a lovely, sweet innocent toy bouncing around. But Clarize was the secret bombshell that shook this company. Just a blink of her eyes made every man or woman feel welcomed. She made them think she was theirs and theirs alone.

Angique closed her eyes as a tremendous satisfaction made her body tremble. Then she opened them again. She smiled, touched her glass with a silver spoon and rose.

"Mesdames, messieurs", she said. Her voice was soft and hoarse. The sudden emotion had left a slight tremor. A silence fell and all faces turned into her direction. She smiled.

"Tonight once more is a special night for our little circle", she went on. "The weather gods have graced it with a unique setting. Let us hope that the sweet gods of lust and sensuality will be inclined to favour us too."

A murmur of agreement danced around the table. Angique sought out the face of Sir Alfred and smiled into his eyes.

"Our last meeting was... memorable to say the least", she went on and a soft laughter rose. She quickly shifted her glance to la Contesse, who was not amused. Then she went back to Sir Alfred, thanking him for a wonderful memory and a lesson well learned. A small applause followed her words.

"Tonight, messieurs, dames," she continued, "tonight will be the proof of that. We will eat and drink and enjoy the company of lovely friends and great lovers. We also will enjoy more stirring pleasures, though. Sensations that will deeply satisfy us all. But of course I shall not disclose those at this early moment."

She took her glass and lifted it.

"First let us toast to our unique little circle of pleasure. Santé, mes amis." They toasted and drank. Then Angique smiled and clapped her hands.

"Maintenant on s'amuse!", she cried out. "Que la fête commence."

The dinner was the success she had hoped for. The food turned out excellent. No one drank to excess. The music was sweet and well played. And the serving slaves knew how to fill the space between courses with their beauty, skill and devotion.

The elder gentleman at her right was a witty and sweet tempered table companion, even if his little stories and anecdotes dated well back. The more vigorous man to her left was well aware of his physical attraction. But his conversation was rather limited. He mostly talked about Clarize. How on earth I had found her, what I had done to make her into the goddess she was. How he could make sure to get a taste of her. And where, by the way, she was.

Angique had decided to allow her guests only a mere impression of her girls. After the first drinks and welcomes in the hall, they had both disappeared. Angique knew what they were doing right now. She knew if and when they would return, an certainty her table companions could only hope for and discuss amongst themselves.

The presentation of Clarize and Giselle was maybe not the main official reason for this gathering. But it certainly explained the fact that so many had come to the villa in this not very welcoming weather. Rumours of what had happened at Sir Alfred's place and after had a lot to do with that. These damn girls and their unconventional Mistress were certainly something else in their comfortable but predictable lives.

Port and cheese, coffee and brandy were served in the great hall. It had been changed into a veritable Grand Café in the great French tradition of the Belle Epoque. Girls served the tables in deeply slit and low cut cancan dresses. Their service of course knew many more aspects than might be expected of more traditional waitresses.

Man-servants were dressed in long traditional aprons. The unconventional thing about those was that they were indeed all they wore.

No one hinted at it, as of course no one wanted to look greedy or impatient. But of course all guests were curious about the meaning of the wide aisle of golden straw. It ran between the tables. It started at the wide doors. Then it ran straight through the hall into the dining room they had just abandoned.

Conversation went on, but seemed to get less and less lively. Waitresses and waiters knelt before their masters and mistresses. They took in their cocks and ate their cunts dutifully. But somehow their sweet actions had become a by-line.

Something hung in the air. Every guest and every slave knew it. They could almost feel it. Brandies were sipped, creamy tits were cupped and kneaded, skirts were lifted and hard rods pressed against exposed asses.

A hush fell. One after the other the huge chandeliers lost their blazing light. Dusk crept from all corners. At last only the pinpointed lights of the fir trees were left.

All guests and their attendants stopped their activities. They looked at each other. Then they looked at the huge doors. A sudden spotlight bathed the shining wood in silver splendour. Heavy pulsing music started. It pounded with primitive vehemence, vibrating through the bellies of all who were gathered.

The doors crashed open. A cold december wind gushed into the hall. It chilled the scantily clad guests and their servants. Against the deep night and swirling blasts of snow they saw the most delightfully barbaric scene of their life.

A huge stallion stood stamping and snorting on the doorsteps. It seemed black in black and shook its snow-laden manes. On its back sat a tall, straight figure. It was all laced up in black leather straps. It must be a woman. Her frame was slender and her chest was wrapped in a leather bra that allowed her tits to ride high on its half-cups. Her legs were also laced in leather, from her feet up to her thighs.

Her ass seemed naked. When she stood in her stirrups her clean- shaven cunt was in plain sight.

Her face was masked. Her head wore a tight leather helmet that sported a high red ponytail at its crown. Her hands were in half-gloves that let her blood-red talons free. She pulled hard at the reigns. It made the horse rear and whinny. A black leather crop dangled from the saddle.

Also in her hand was a leash. It ran to the bound wrists of a masked slave girl at the side of her horse. The girl was completely naked. Even her feet were bare in the snow. Only her face was masked and in her mouth stuck an iron bit. A red rubber gag-ball at the centre stretched her jaws in a wide and cruel O.

Her hands were tied together in front of her. She shivered from the cold and was obviously scared by the prancing horse.

As the horse danced to the left another creature became visible. It was a huge brute of a hound, led by a chain in the woman's other hand. Its back reached the horse's belly. Massive muscles rolled under a gray shining pelt. Its snout was tied with leather straps. Its face was masked and his body bound with sturdy length of leather too. The animal growled from within its throat and nervously pulled at the taut chain.

Then the amazon gave a mighty roar. She slammed her heels into the horse's flanks. Through the pounding music its hooves clattered on the stone, then dug into the thick layer of straw. The guests scurried back to let the animal pass. The naked girl had to trot to keep up with the horse.

The woman rode the length of the straw aisle. Then she disappeared through the open doors of the former dining hall. First two, then more guests followed her. And at last all of them thronged into the adjoining room.

It had been totally changed. The huge dinner table had gone. The spacious floor was now covered in straw that shone with a dark gold in the light of innumerable torches.

At the far side a stage had been set up. Dark wood and black slabs of rock created a space of archaic beauty. A ramp led up to it and right now the woman drove her mount over it. The naked girl tottered behind. The dog had already reached the stage.

When they were up, big floodlights were lighted. They set off the tableau with great detail and made the audience gasp. The scene was of a primeval beauty. The amazon girl stroked the proud neck of the horse with her hand. She leaned forward and whispered into its pointed ears. Steam rose from its panting flanks.

The naked girl had sunk to her knees. She leaned into the monstrous hound, pushing her face into its shining pelt. The music pounded on relentlessly. It turned the big hall into an all encompassing, throbbing heart.

From high she gazed down through the slits in her mask. She felt elated and took in great gulps of smoke-filled air. It made her high tits heave on her chest.

All faces looked up at her. They seemed pale ovals around dark set eyes. How great it felt to be at the centre of attention. To squeeze these naked thighs around this gorgeous steed. To smell the beast's sweat and feel its heat radiate through her flesh. Her skin still tingled from the severe cold outside. Her nipples stood like sentinels. Snowflakes melted on her shoulders. Tiny rivulets of hot juice seeped out of her swollen slit. They stained the polished saddle and leaked down her trembling legs. She felt so incredibly excited.

Her eyes swept the darkened hall, searching. And finding. A sweet, warm wave of reassurance drowned her as she met the emerald centre of her being. Her nipples contracted. She let out a primal scream of pure elation.

With athletic ease the masked amazon slid down the horse's back to join the naked girl and the hound. She pulled at the leash and grabbed the girl by her collar. She tore at the strap that held the bit and freed the girl of the gag. Her gasps were audible in the farthest corners of the hall. Then the amazon girl sank her wide red mouth over hers. They started a long, deep, hungry kiss.