“I’m not going to keep him!” Jillian protested in a low voice. She was glad the big Kindred had gone into the next room so he couldn’t hear them arguing about him as though he was an object neither of them wanted.
Mistress Douchenbag stuck her head out from behind the curtain.
“How can you know that you don’t want to keep him if you don’t at least try his services—which you promised to do?” she snapped, frowning at Jillian. “Now hurry up! The tea will get cold!”
Then she pulled her head back behind the curtain and continued undressing.
Jillian frowned at the place the other woman’s face had been. Mistress Douchenbag seemed really freaking focused on that tea.
The bodyslave who had brought the tea had set the silver platter down on the wooden bench and departed the room. Seeing that she had a moment where no one was watching her, Jillian pulled her poison checker out of her jeans pocket and ran it hastily over the two cups of steaming, aquamarine tea.
Somewhat to her surprise, the light at the end of the checker lit up bright green. She’d half expected the Yonnie Mistress to try and drug her—maybe to make her more susceptible to the idea of taking the big Kindred bodyslave home with her to the Mother Ship.
Which I’m not about to do—especially now I know he’s registered as a “deadly weapon” by the Yonnite Sacred Seven, she thought grimly.
Oh, but you are going to let him put his hands all over you? demanded a little voice in her head.
Well, he can hardly hurt me in the middle of a bunch of other people, Jillian told herself. And I was alone with him before and he was fine—a really nice guy, in fact.
Then why is Mistress Douche-bag so damn desperate to get rid of him? asked the little voice.
Jillian didn’t have an answer to that, but she supposed that she had inadvertently agreed to the massage when she agreed to take tea with the Yonnite Mistress.
It’s just a massage and you know you haven’t had one in ages, she told herself, as she went to get undressed.
She took off her jeans, t-shirt, and bra and folded them all neatly on the small wooden bench inside her booth. Then she hesitated, her thumbs hooked into the sides of her plain white cotton panties. Should she take them off?
She’d used to get regular massages from an excellent massage therapist called Helga back when she worked at The Palms. Considering all the chopping, stirring, mixing, kneading, and heavy lifting that went on in a commercial kitchen, therapeutic massages were a must. But she had always kept her panties on and Helga was a woman—which made her feel more comfortable and less vulnerable.
Then again, she hated to draw attention to herself by looking different from the other women in the room. What if they looked at her underwear and realized she wasn’t from Yonnie Six after all and threw her out? She very much doubted any self-respecting Yonnite Mistress would be caught dead wearing white cotton Granny-panties like she had on.
I can always wrap myself in a towel and I’ll be lying face down the whole time anyway, she told herself. Reluctantly, she pushed the panties down and left them neatly folded beside her other clothing.
Wrapping a towel firmly around herself, she finally left the changing booth.
“Oh, there you are—at last!” Mistress Douchenbag was completely naked and apparently completely unashamed. She walked around nude as easily as she had when she was dressed—more easily, in fact, since she had finally taken off her three-foot-tall heels. “Come on,” she told Jillian. “Let’s have our tea before it gets too cold!”
Sauntering over to the bench, she lifted one of the steaming golden cups and inhaled deeply before tossing the contents back like some kind of a shot.
Jillian was a little more careful with her own tea. She sniffed deeply and then sipped carefully. She didn’t know how Mistress Douchenbag had managed to swallow such hot liquid without burning her throat, but she wasn’t about to repeat the other woman’s reckless actions.
“Hurry up, will you?” Mistress Douchenbag patted her bare foot impatiently on the marble floor. “We must get into the relaxation grotto so we can start relaxing!”
She certainly seemed like she needed some relaxation, Jillian thought, as she swallowed the rest of her tea. It had a coconuty flavor with some hints of spice, like an expensive chai that she actually quite liked.
“Good, now that you’re done, come into the rose-gold room so I can introduce you to my friends and we can finally get our massages,” Mistress Douchenbag commanded. “Well? Come on!”
She gestured Jillian through the far doorway and into the rose-gold room and then closed the door firmly behind them with a soft, hollow-sounding thud.
Jillian took a deep breath and clutched her towel tighter around her chest. There was no going back now.
8
The rose-gold relaxation grotto was made of white marble walls and flooring which was shot through with streaks of glimmering gold. From the ceiling hung long, broad strips of rose-colored silk. The strips were draped artfully around the room, partially separating the four massage tables which were arranged in a circle in the center of the large space.
Two of the padded tables were occupied with naked Yonnite Mistresses. Both of them were lying on their stomachs, their bare backs glistening with oil as two burly bodyslaves massaged them. One of them had long green hair and the other was completely bald except for an odd fringe of purple curls around the crown of her head.
“Oh, Twyla! It’s so good to see you,” the green-haired Mistress called. “And who is your little friend?”
“This is my cousin, Mistress Jillian, from the outskirts of Opulex,” Mistress Douchenbag said. “She’s rather shy, so please don’t be offended if she doesn’t talk much,” she added, which was rude, Jillian thought, but at least it saved her the trouble of making small-talk with the two Mistresses.
“Nice to meet you, Mistress Jillian—I’m Ylla Sollasolew and this is Hendris Tagalong. We’re both from the center of Opulex, but we’ve relocated here to Prius Six to be near the Market,” the green-haired Mistress said.
“Um…nice to meet you.” Jillian nodded to both of them and the green-haired Mistress Sollasolew nodded back genially.
“Nice to meet you,” the bald mistress with the purple fringe of hair murmured drowsily, not even opening her eyes. She looked so relaxed she was almost asleep, Jillian thought.
“Well, now that the introductions are over, let’s get down to business. I have been dying for a spa day!” Mistress Douchenbag remarked, climbing onto the table beside Mistress Sollasolew. She turned her head to the side to talk to the other woman and a third burly bodyslave began to smooth oil over her bare back at once.
“Little Mistress? Are you ready for your massage?”
Kalis’s deep, rumbling voice made Jillian jump. Turning, she saw that he was waiting patiently for her beside the fourth massage table, holding a bottle of massage oil.
“Oh, um…right.” She nodded quickly. “Yup, all ready.”
Kalis gave her an inquisitive frown.
“Then would you like to remove your towel and get onto the table?”
“Um, yes. I suppose I will.”
Jillian lay face down on the padded table and then, awkwardly, she reached beneath her to loosen the towel. For a moment she just laid there, trying to get up the courage to drape the towel over the side of the table. She reminded herself that the other three Mistresses were middle-aged women—the same as her. Also, with any luck, she was never going to see any of these people again after today.