The alarm rang and she slapped it off before her bedmate could stir. Where was she? Who was she? Her brain was a pool of dark water dotted with a scattering of tiny fish. They swam away before she could catch them.

As she struggled to collect her thoughts, her hand slipped between her legs and found the ring fastened there. She traced its circumference, enjoying the way it slid against her clit. Memories flitted back to her now as though drawn by the soft, shuddering squeak of the ring. She slid a finger through the hole and tugged gently, reeling in the thoughts one by one.

Oh yes. Mistress had placed that ring here when she claimed the slave as her own. "For as long as you wear my ring," she had said, "you are my thrall." And "For as long as I wear your ring," the thrall had repeated, "you are my Mistress." She glanced across the pillow and saw the woman who owned her, body and mind.

Queen Catherine's skin was pale and smooth, only a little pinker than the sheets that pooled at breasts and hips. Her raven hair spilled out around her, tousled with sleep but still lovely and fragrant. Her eyes were closed, luxuriant lashes tickling the curves of her cheeks. And her lips - oh, those wondrous lips that chanted the words of enslavement! Even now, after a night of pleasure, they were still red and plump. As perfect as Queen Catherine herself.

The thrall had had a name once, too, but she remembered it no longer. All she knew was that this gorgeous creature had captured her and taken away her mind. Now she had no thoughts of her own, no will of her own, no memories of her own. She lived only to serve Her Mistress.

And it was time to do so now.

The Queen had left her breakfast order on a pad beside the telephone. The thrall carried both into the bathroom, shut the door, and crouched down behind the toilet. She dialed, and when Room Service answered she whispered in a monotone, "Queen Catherine in Room 512 commands breakfast in bed. The server will knock quietly and give her slave the tray when she answers the door."

"Very good," answered the desk clerk, unsurprised. Pervadise Island staffers dealt with this sort of thing all the time. "What would your Mistress like?"

"Eggs Benedict," said the thrall, reading from the Queen's note, "with a side order of strawberries. Fresh squeezed orange juice and a pot of black coffee, no sugar or cream."

"Very good. And what would you like?"

"Nothing," said the thrall.

"Not even bread and water?"

"Nothing."

"Very good. We'll have it up to you in thirty minutes."

The thrall returned the phone to its cradle, then opened Mistress' suitcase and found the collection of power bars and vitamins. She took one of each back to the bathroom and washed them down with tap water. Breakfast was the only time of day when the thrall was permitted to eat - or, indeed, do anything - before her Mistress. But serving her own needs now allowed her to better tend the Queen's needs later. Not that the thrall thought of herself as having needs.

She brushed her teeth, then returned to the bedroom and picked up her Walkman from the dresser table. Then, standing before the mirror with one ear cocked toward the door and the other plugged by a single earbud, she turned on the Queen's chant. Her pussy flared as the spells filled her mind, slipping into their old familiar grooves. She watched her eyelids flutter in the mirror, watched her lips silently mouth the words. "I am a doll, a thrall, a puppet; Queen Catherine pulls my strings." Her hand slipped back to her clit and tweaked the ring. "The more perfectly I serve her, the more she is pleased." Tweak. "The more she is pleased, the more she rewards me." Tweak. "My reward is mindless pleasure."

The thrall strummed her clit as the mantra repeated. Her eyes glazed and her lips slackened, though she continued numbly to mouth the words. A line of drool dribbled down her chin, but that only increased her focus. "I want to be mindless. I want to feel pleasure."

Her hand dropped to her side as she lost even the will to masturbate, but the throbbing at her slit continued. She felt it echo through her empty mind and sighed though she couldn't hear it.

The only thing she did hear, and this came after untold minutes of bliss, was a gentle knocking. Still lost in an ecstasy of obedience, she pivoted and crossed to the door. There knelt the waiter, a sub in black leather straps and a ball gag, holding the breakfast tray up over his head. She took it wordlessly and tucked a tip under his collar as Mistress's note commanded. He was still kneeling when she closed the door and turned back to the bed.

Catherine awoke to the gentle stroking of her thrall's tongue. "Mmmm," she sighed. She shifted to give the slave better access to her slit, then curled a leg around her back and stroked her with a toe. "Ohhhh, yes. Right there. Good thrall!" A purr of pleasure came from between her legs, followed by renewed licking. Catherine clutched the pillow with both hands and gasped. "Yes! There! Yes!" Starbursts of scarlet and white filled her mind. Her body shook and her legs clamped tight around her slave's slick head. "Yyyeee-hhh!"

She stiffened, then collapsed atop the soft warm body of the thrall. "Good slave," she sighed. Her fingers brushed across the nubbly surface of her toy's bald head. "Hmm, I'll have to shave you again today."

"Yes, Mistress." The thrall arced her head against her Mistress' palm like a cat enjoying a petting. "Shall I feed you now?"

"Yes, you shall."

She watched as the thrall brought the tray over and knelt humbly beside her bed. The woman's eyes were dull, her lips slightly parted and wet with saliva and honey. Catherine smelled herself on the slave's breath. She didn't have to wonder what went on in the thrall's dark mind, for she already knew the answer. Nothing. And that's all my doing.

The thought gave her another jolt of pleasure. "Slave," she said, picking up a strawberry, "you've served me so well and so mindlessly this morning that I'm going to give you a reward. She slipped the strawberry into her slit and smiled. "Come and get it."

It had pleased Mistress to dress the thrall in a swath of lavender gauze that wrapped her loosely from head to toe. Beneath the sheer material her chastity belt and matching silver nipple caps shone plainly. Her eyes, too, were silver and totally featureless.

Even on Pervadise Island, where slaves were a dime a dozen, the slack-faced thrall drew stares. "Doesn't she ever break character?" whispered a leather-clad male to the woman holding his chain. They filed up the gangplank onto the tour boat and followed the two women along the rail.

The Queen, who had excellent hearing, turned with a chilly smile. "Which of us do you think is in character?"

The man flushed but his partner, who'd been about to answer his question, recovered herself more quickly. "Down, slave! Who told you to speak out of turn?" He dropped to the deck, rubbing his swelling cock against the boards, while his mistress nodded to Catherine. "Forgive my slave's impertinence. He's obviously in need of more punishment." She held out a hand. "I'm Angelique, and this is Warren."

Catherine stared at her hand for a long moment, sizing up the other domme's power. "Queen Catherine of Avalon," she said at last, smiling graciously. She offered her own hand in return, the lazy shake of a royal mingling with the masses. "Come join us at the prow."

This time Angelique flushed, too.

Meanwhile, an oddly clad figure was strolling through the crowds at the pool. Dressed in khaki shorts and a golf shirt, he stood out like a flounder in a tank of sharks.

"Hey, vanilla," purred a strap-clad stud straight out of a Tom O'Finland painting. "Vanilla, that's right - that's you. Come here, boy!"

The stranger gritted his teeth and turned, looking embarrassed.

"What's your name, boy?" sneered the Tom, eyeing him from the top of his sun-streaked hair to the sole of his expensive sandals, then returning to the bulge of his shorts.

"Robert Kaniskey. Excuse me, but-"

"My name is Leo, but you can call me Sir."

Robert swallowed. "Thanks...Leo...but-"

"Sir!"

The young man's eyes darted around the gathering crowd. He swallowed again and reached what seemed to be a difficult decision. "Yes...Sir. Excuse me, but I'm looking for someone. Maybe you could help me out."

"Maybe," leered Leo. "If you help me out."

Robert colored and dropped his eyes. "I didn't come her for that...Sir. I came here looking for my fiancée. I think she's here with another woman, someone who claims to be a sorceress queen."

"A sorceress queen?!" Leo grinned at the crowd around him. "Well, that's a new twist, anyway. So let me guess. You-" he stabbed his finger into Robert's chest and traced a line toward his crotch; Robert backpedaled "-being the gallant-ass little vanilla that you are, thought you'd come out here and rescue her."

"That's right." Robert lifted his chin. "I have a picture of her here, see? Her name's Lorena."

Leo stared at the proffered photo without taking it. He'd actually spent dinner with this woman and her Mistress last night, but this wasn't the time to say so. "Nice looking girl," he shrugged, totally noncommittal. "Not my type, but still. Come back to my room with me, and maybe I'll remember whether or not I've seen her."

Robert stabbed the picture back into his wallet. "I told you I'm not here for that."

"Your cock says different." He laughed as Robert folded in on himself. "Face it, vanilla boy, you're not going to get any help here. You don't belong. Besides, if your girlfriend's shacked up with another woman, it's because that's what she wants."

"But that's just it," Robert insisted. "I don't think it is what she wants."

The thrall could feel the weight of their stares now, like a thin prickly garment over her gauze. Once in awhile their words broke through to her and she thrilled to the whispers: creepy, too good to be true, jealous, really starting to scare me, hot as hell.

She didn't wonder what her Mistress heard or thought; that was beyond a slave's ability. No, she just floated happily in her violet cloud and let the world wash over her. There was no need to think, no need to struggle, no need to do anything but serve the one who'd ensnared her. The thrall knew she was a captive, the victim of lust and powerful magic, but this was no cause for concern. On the contrary, it was the greatest pleasure of her life. A slow, ceaseless throb at the core of her being lulled her deeper into trance.

"I know what you're thinking," drawled her Mistress to the crowd that had gathered around them. She lounged in a deck chair while the thrall knelt at her side. "You still aren't convinced that my hold on this thrall is as deep as it seems."

A thin young sub shook her head. "Your Majesty, we would never assume-"

"That's quite all right," purred the Queen. She patted the thrall's smooth head. "In fact, I actually prefer you to doubt my control. You see, I parade the truth of my nature and my thrall's before your face, but as long as some tiny part of your mind believes we're acting, you treat us as friends. You think of us as members of your own community. Rather eccentric members, perhaps, and better actors than most, but at heart no different than anyone else here. But if you thought my thrall were truly enslaved, what would you do?" Her eyes swept the crowd, and few there could meet her gaze.

"I know," she said. "You'd be tempted to turn me in to the authorities. But would you actually dare? After all, if I'm powerful enough to enslave this woman against her will, what might I do to you? And suppose - just suppose, against all probability, that I really am the magical creature I claim to be. Would you really want me as an enemy?"

"Can I see that picture?" asked the ponygirl in blue and silver spangles. Robert passed over the photo and tried to ignore Leo's leer. "Oh yeah, I think I know who you're talking about. I wouldn't have recognized her if you hadn't said her Mistress was a sorceress. She's bald now - the slave, I mean - and her eyes are different. But I recognize the beauty mark on her lip."

Robert looked torn between joy and horror. "Do you know where they are now?"

"Sure, I saw them get on the tour boat this morning. They're somewhere out there." She waved her hand vaguely toward the ocean. "I don't know when they'll get back."

"3:30," growled Leo, grasping Robert's shoulder from behind. He kneaded the smaller man's muscles. "I'll walk you to the docks and wait with you."

"No thank you," Robert answered quickly. "If it's going to be that long, I think I'll go back to my room and, and read a book. I appreciate your help, though."

Leo watched as Robert hurried away, enjoying the prim set of his shoulders and the tightness of his ass. Pretty little vanilla boy, he thought to himself, by the end of the night you'll be mine. He turned to the crowd that had gathered around them. "Anyone know what time the tour really gets back?"

"Two o'clock," answered a domme at his left.

"Good," answered Leo. "That's what I thought."

Robert showed up at the docks at 3:00 sharp and cursed loudly and colorfully when he learned the boat was already back. The resort guests in the vicinity - and there were several - found him quite amusing.

The Queen and her thrall, meanwhile, took in a fashion show with a growing entourage. The ponygirl Robert had spoken to was there, and she approached Catherine afterwards (with great deference) and told her about the stranger searching for his stolen fiancée. "Excellent," said the Queen, caressing her thrall's ass through the gauze. "I'll look forward to meeting him. Won't you, pet?"

"Yes, Mistress," murmured the thrall, though she had no idea what her owner was talking about.

Evening found Robert on another wild goose chase, scouring the far side of the island for a nonexistent orgy. Although the jokers who had sent him there hadn't even heard of Leo, their attitude toward Robert could be traced directly to the dom at the pool. Leo had told everyone he met about the prim little vanilla and his rescue mission. As for the dom himself, he joined Queen Catherine in the Roman Lounge that night and immediately set about buttering her up.

The Queen was dressed tonight like an Egyptian goddess, in a semi-sheer gown which did nothing to hide her breasts. Her hair was plaited into snakes and bound with gold. She held court from one of the hall's many thrones while the thrall knelt demurely at her feet.

Unlike her Mistress, the thrall was clad in thoroughly modern attire. Most of her body, aside from knees and elbows and a square around her face, had been wrapped in duct tape the same cool silver as her eyes. A basket by the Queen's feet contained several more rolls, and every few minutes she pulled one out and covered another swath of the slave's skin.

"What are you going to do when you get her back to the room," asked one of the bolder admirers. "It'll take all night just to get that tape off."

Catherine laughed and smoothed another band across the thrall's forehead. Already her face had almost disappeared beneath the tape. "You forget," purred the Queen, "that you're dealing with a sorceress. I'll peel her as easily as you would an orange."

Time passed. The Queen taped the thrall's mouth closed, then ordered a drink and taped it into the thrall's hand so that every time she wanted a sip, her slave was forced to bring the glass to her lips.

The thrall stood quietly behind her during this phase of the game, reveling in her muteness and the baselessness of her task. Her body hummed with arousal, especially her clit pressed tight against the ring of Mistress' control. I am owned, she told herself. I am an ornament to Mistress' beauty and a testament to her control. Near-mindless as she was, she could still take pleasure in performing that function. No one in the broad Roman Lounge shone as bright as her Mistress. No one drew as large a crowd, or held her listeners as spellbound as the thrall's Queen. Even without believing in her, they still recognized her power.

When she'd finished her drink, Catherine unbound the thrall's mouth and covered her eyes instead. Then she had her kneel at the foot of the throne and untie her sandals. "Make love to my feet," she commanded, and the thrall lavished them with affection. Pouring all her devotion into her mouth and hands, she suckled on Queen Catherine's toes and ran her tongue lovingly between them. Her hands caressed Mistress' soles, then moved on up her ankles to her firm, smooth calves. At the Queen's command she raised her blind head and navigated up those legs by touch alone. Mistress' muscles quivered beneath her tongue; the thrall heard her gasp as she drew closer to the moist dark center of her power. Her hands ran up ahead of her tongue, caressing the velvet thighs and drawing inward to part the honeyed lips.

Suddenly a commotion arose on the other side of the room. "Lorena!" rang a strident voice. "Lorena! I know that's you! Let her go, you fucking pervert!"

It was Robert, back at last from his wild goose chase and ready to reclaim his fiancée. The thrall barely noticed him until Mistress drew her away from her slit. "This should be interesting," purred her owner. "Thrall, heel." The thrall pulled away and settled herself by the arm of the throne.

"Get out of my way, freak!" continued the voice from the other side of the lounge. It was getting closer now. "Lorena, it's me! I've come to rescue you!"

The noise of the crowd increased: murmurs, laughter, cries of outrage. "Let me go!" Robert screamed from somewhere quite close to the thrall. She had just the wit to realize the crowd had grabbed him.

"It's all right," Queen Catherine soothed. "Bring him to me." A series of grunts and protests told the thrall that they'd obeyed.

The slave felt her would-be savior's gaze burn hot across her wrappings. She understood very little of what was happening, but that didn't matter. Mistress was in control and all was right with the world. She sighed and relished the creak of her bindings.

"What is she to you, human?" asked the Queen. "Girlfriend? Fiancée? Wife?"

"Fiancée," answered Robert truculently. "We were going to be married in three weeks when you stole her from me. It's taken me almost two years to find her again, and now that I have, I'm not leaving without her. She's mine and I want her back!"

"Is she really?" the Queen laughed. "Thrall?"

The slave surfaced from her dreams. "Yes, Mistress?"

"To whom do you belong?"

"I am yours, Mistress. I exist only to serve you."

"Good thrall." She patted her slave's head and the thrall writhed with pleasure. "And who is this man who claims he owns you?"

"I don't know, Mistress."

"Who is Lorena?"

"I don't know, Mistress."

"Lorena!" shrieked Robert. "Don't you even know who you are? She can't have brainwashed you that deeply!"

"Actually," the Queen replied, "It wasn't brainwashing. But don't worry; all her memories are intact. I simply don't permit her to access them. Here, I'll show you. Thrall?" The slave turned her blind face upwards. "You may now remember your name. What was it?"

"Lorena, Mistress."

"You may now remember this man - if, in fact, you truly knew him. Who is he?"

"He was my fiancée, Mistress. His name is Robert."

Robert laughed with hysterical relief. "That's right, baby, you know who you really love. Now come to me, sweetheart. Let me take you away from this shithole."

The slave made no move.

"Thrall," Catherine said again, "you will forget your name and you will forget this man. Now tell me again, who are you?"

"I am your thrall, mistress. I exist only to serve you."

"And who is this man in front of us?"

"I don't know, Mistress."

Robert bellowed with rage.

"Silence!" Catherine commanded, and the whole room fell quiet. "I am the Sorceress Queen of Avalon. You will treat me with proper respect, or I will slay you where you stand. Is that understood? Is that understood?"

"Yes," answered Robert, his voice soundly oddly strangled.

Murmurs rose up around them: "It's like she really made him obey!" "Nah, they're just acting." "If they are, it's the best act I've ever seen!"

"Good boy," purred the Queen. "Now then, strange as it sounds, you claim a right to my personal property?"

"I have a right to my fiancée." He sounded a bit more sure of himself. "She's mine, and she would have come to me just now if you hadn't stopped her." His voice rose an octave. "That's why you made her forget again, isn't it? Because you knew you couldn't hold her if she remembered me."

Catherine laughed merrily. "Is that what you think, little human?"

"It's what I know."

"'For stony limits cannot hold love out,' and all that pretty poetry? Well, it might be true in some cases - but in yours? Is your love for my thrall as pure as all that?"

"Didn't you hear me when I said how long I'd been tracking her?"

"Oh, I heard, all right. Mmmm." In the silence, she ran her hand down the thrall's spine, sending the puppet into spasms. "Well, one of us, at least, needs to be taught a lesson. I propose a challenge. I will restore the thrall's memories - but only her memories - for five minutes. If you can free her from my control in that time, she is yours. You may speak to her and I will allow her to respond freely, but you may not touch her and she may not touch you...unless, of course, you are successful and she falls weeping into your arms or some such nonsense."

"What's the catch?"

"Oh, the usual. If you are unable to break my spell, the thrall remains with me - and so do you. You will become my slave, and I may do whatever I like with you."

Robert fell silent, considering, while the crowd murmured around him. Unsure whether his challenge was real or part of an act, still they egged him on. This was theater! "I'll take your challenge, he said at last, bringing a cheer from the crowd. "But on one condition. Uncover her eyes. I want her to see me when I'm talking to her."

A guffaw erupted from somewhere near, followed by a round of shh's and titters. They knew what lay beneath the duct tape even if Robert did not.

"Ooh, what a hard bargain you drive," teased the Queen. "But so do I. I'll uncover her eyes, little human, but I'll also impose a condition of my own. A member of the audience will try to distract you from your purpose. Do I have a volunteer?" The thrall sat quietly as the clamor rose around her. "Hmm," her Mistress mused. "No, no, no thank you. Ah, Leo, you'll do quite nicely. You lot down there can let our guest go; Leo will hold him now - in whatever way he likes. My only stipulation, Leo, is that you don't restrict his ability to speak or block his line of sight. After all, he and I have a bargain."

"Yes, your Majesty!" came an enthusiastic voice. The thrall heard jostling and mild protests from the man who'd come to rescue her.

"Now we'll need a timekeeper," said the Queen. Would you believe I just happen to have a stopwatch in my basket? Now, who'd like to do the honors? Marisa? Very good. The timer is already set darling; just push this button when I give you the signal."

There was a moment of pleasurable silence, during which the thrall repressed a shudder. Cocooned in trance as she was, even she could feel the excitement in the room.

The Queen spoke again. "Well then, I suppose we're ready. On your feet, thrall." The slave scrambled to obey. "I am about to uncover your eyes. The moment I do, you will have full access to your memories for exactly five minutes. During that time you may converse freely with the man in front of you, but you may not move toward him in any way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good thrall. Human, are you ready?"

"I'm ready," grated the stranger.

The thrall felt her Mistress step up beside her, then the tug of the tape being removed. Light poured into her eyes, and memories along with it. She a slim, angry man in a blue polo shirt (embraced from behind by a muscleman in leather) and remembered him as her fiancée. But she'd been stolen from him by her Mistress - she remembered that, too - and the only attachment she felt now was to the woman who'd taken her mind. The thrall stood still and silent as a robot.

Robert's face became even angrier as he caught sight of the silver. "You lying bitch! You said I'd be able to see her eyes!"

"Those are her eyes," came Mistress's voice. The thrall resisted the urge to turn toward her. She'd been commanded to focus on Robert.

"They're contact lenses! How do I know she can even see out of them?"

"They're not contact lenses, but I don't expect you to believe me about that ... yet. However, you can verify her ability to see you quite easily. Hold up some fingers and ask her to tell you how many there are."

Robert's mouth worked and he jerked in his holder's arms. But Leo only pulled him close and whispered soothing words in his ear. Then he began to nibble Robert's earlobe.

"Stop that, you freak," hissed Robert. "Lorena, can you see me?"

"Of course, Robert," murmured the thrall.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"And now?"

"Eight, four on each hand."

Robert's anger abated only slightly. He seemed to realize he wouldn't get anywhere by debating eye color with the Queen, and instead soldiered on with his questioning. "Lorena, do you recognize me?"

"Of course I do. We were engaged to be married before I was taken by the Queen of Avalon. Now I am her bride. And her slave."

Robert ground his teeth. "She's not the Queen of Avalon, Lorena. She's an evil human being who's brainwashed you somehow - drugs? hypnosis? I don't know. But whatever she's done, I'm here to undo it. I'm here to take you home, sweetheart. All you have to do is step away from her and come to me. I love you, baby. Come home to me." He held out his arms, Leo snaking his hands down the wiry muscles, and jerked his head away as Leo nuzzled his neck.

The thrall made no move.

"Lorena," Robert tried again, "I want you to think about the times we spent together, hiking, walking on the beach, going to museums, making love. Remember all that?"

"Yes, Robert."

"Remember how much in love we were?"

"Yes, Robert."

"Tell me how you felt about me, baby. Tell me how much you loved me."

"I wanted to marry you," she said, her voice as bland as her expression. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

"And you still do, baby, somewhere deep down inside. Look inside yourself and find that feeling again."

"I cannot. I am not permitted."

"Fuck permission! You know it's there! You know you still love me! Just let yourself feel it!"

"No."

Leo's hands pulled Robert's shirt from under his waistband and roamed up underneath it. Robert grimaced as rough fingers tweaked his nipples. "Well then, honey," he grimaced, "let me tell you how much I love you. I've been through hell these last two years, tracking you through some of the worst shitholes on earth - this place included - and I'm going through hell right now trying to get you back. See what this freak is doing to me right now? I'm putting up with it because I love you, baby!"

"You don't love me."

"What?!" He froze in his twisting. "What did you just say?"

"You don't love me. You never loved me."

"Lorena, what the hell are you talking about?"

The words spilled out of her with no more emotion than a grocery list. They were simply memories unlocked by Robert's words. "I always knew you wanted me as a possession, but I didn't mind. I would have been happy to be a trophy wife. I would have been rich."

Robert jerked toward Queen Catherine but Leo held him back. "You fucking cunt! Those aren't real memories! You've poisoned her against me!"

"I've done no such thing." Mistress sounded amused. "Why would I bother tainting her memories when I can simply prevent her from accessing them? But do go on. You have a minute and a half."

"Lorena," Robert tried desperately, "you don't mean what you're saying. I know you loved me, and I loved you. Why else would I spend two years of my life tracking you down like this?"

"Well," said the thrall, "you never did like sharing your toys."

Her rescuer curled in on himself and groaned, leading Leo to rub his cheek against his shaking shoulder. Robert jerked upright with a start. "Come on, Lorena," he said raggedly, "I loved you and I still do. And, well, maybe I did take you for granted sometimes or treat you like a possession, but that's nothing compared to what this bitch has done to you. At least I never wrapped you in tape or blanked out your eyes! I never humiliated you in public! I never fucked with your mind!"

"You tried. You just weren't as good at it as she is."

Something snapped in Robert at last. He drew himself up to his full height, his face pale except for two bright spots of color in his cheeks. "Oh, I get it now. This is what you really want, isn't it? You like being wrapped up and paraded around like a sideshow freak, sucking people's toes in public, having to say 'yes, Mistress' and 'no, Mistress,' and not even being allowed to remember your own fucking name? You like it, don't you?"

"I love it." Her clit spasmed with that admission and she rubbed her thighs together.

Catherine watched from behind, smirking. She knew exactly what this contest was doing to her thrall because it was doing almost the same to her. She crossed her legs and sighed, feeling the slide of flesh on flesh. If Robert had come just a little later, she would have felt the thrall's kisses there, but this was almost as enjoyable. She could feel all the excitement, all the fear, all the arousal centered on her. In one sense she controlled only her own little cunt slave; in another sense she controlled the entire room.

Robert's face curdled and she wanted to laugh at him. "I don't believe this," he spluttered. " I've spent the last two years of my life trying to rescue someone who wants to be a slave? You know what, Lorena? I think you knew all along what you were getting into with this bitch. I think you went with her willingly and let her fuck with your head. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you're not brainwashed at all!" Howls of protest rose from the crowd, and Catherine smiled again. She owned them, every one.

"Well, fuck you, Lorena," shouted Robert. "You were right after all. I don't love you, and I'm going to prove it right now. Keep your stupid 'sorceress queen'; I'm out of here!" He wrenched himself away from Leo and Catherine signaled that he should be let go. After all, he wouldn't get very far.

"Twenty seconds," she called, and Robert pulled up halfway to the door.

He whirled angrily toward the throne. "Didn't you hear me, bitch? I'm out of here - you can have your little fuck toy!"

"Of course I can," Catherine answered, calm as ever. "And I can have you, too, apparently. We had a deal, remember?"

"The hell with that! Just you try and enforce it, 'sorceress' cunt!" He turned toward the door again, and the crowd, chattering wildly, swelled around him.

Catherine laughed and waved them back. "There's no need for that, my friends. He only has a few seconds of freedom left anyway. Marisa?"

"Nine seconds, your Majesty," called the timekeeper. "Eight, seven-"

Robert didn't bother to turn this time, but those closest to him might have noticed a trace of anxiety on his face. Sensing Catherine's victory, they began to count along with Marisa. "Five, four, three, two, one!"

Robert froze in mid-step.

The cheers sent Catherine's blood racing, the pulse pounding in her breasts and cunt. "You see," she said when the noise died down, "when you called me a 'sorceress cunt,' you were more right than you knew. And now you belong to this cunt. Come to me, little man." She gestured and Robert whirled like a puppet on strings. His teeth clenched and his face reddened as he fought the pull, but still he staggered back toward the throne. "Kneel," she commanded, and he dropped so quickly that his knees cracked against the stone. The noise was loud in the sudden silence.

Catherine gazed at her slaves, the old and the new, and smiled wickedly. "Thrall," she asked, "Do you know this man?"

"No, Mistress."

Robert groaned and closed his eyes.

"Of course not," purred the Queen. "Your mind is as blank and smooth as it was five minutes ago, isn't that right? No, don't answer; just listen to me. This man is my newest slave. Like you, he will have no name; but unlike you, he will enjoy none of my affection." She slipped her arms around the thrall's shoulders and pulled her close for a soul kiss. When she withdrew, the crowd saw that she held a black leather collar. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"I like whatever you command me to like, Mistress."

"Good thrall. Of course you do. Very well, you would like to do the honors." She handed the thrall the collar and turned to Robert. "Rise, slave!"

His face was a rictus of horror as he jerked to his feet. His mouth worked but he couldn't say a word since Catherine hadn't commanded him to speak.

On the other hand, because Catherine had commanded the thrall to like this job, her clitoris pulsed with a steady drumbeat. She approached him slowly, almost blindly, so intent on obeying her Mistress that she barely saw the new slave's face or heard the gasps of the crowd. A distant part of her mind told her that this man should mean something to her. An even more distant part knew what he meant to her, but both parts watched in silence as her hands did their work. She might be binding her own fiancée into slavery, a process begun when she refused to come at his call; but all that was meaningless to her. She had no will but to obey her Mistress' will, no thoughts but the thoughts she allowed her, no memories of life before thralldom. She was a toy, a puppet, a possession. And because the Queen commanded it, she loved every second of it.

The thrall fastened the collar around Robert's neck and their Mistress stepped forward, turning him full-on to face the crowd. They cheered again but quieted when she raised her hand. "So, slave," she purred, laying a companionable arm across his shoulder, "what do you have to say for yourself? You may speak."

Robert shook beneath his Mistress' hand. "Help me," he moaned, eyes helplessly scanning the crowd. "It's all for real. Please, someone help me."

The room was silent for a full two seconds; then it erupted into guffaws. Someone threw a cocktail cherry and it bounced off Robert's chest.

Again Catherine held up her hand for silence. "Anything else?" she asked.

He turned wretched, beaten eyes toward her. "No. You win. Just go ahead and brainwash me now so I can forget about all this."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who said I was going to brainwash you?"

He gaped, spluttered, shook so hard it seemed he might faint at any moment. "You did!" he gasped. "You said if I lost the challenge you'd erase my mind!"

"I said you'd become my slave, and so you are. Beyond that I made no promises."

"But you did it to her!" He flicked anguished eyes toward the thrall.

"She pleased me, so I rewarded her with a release from all her cares. You do not please me." Catherine ran a blood-red nail down his cheek. "No, little slave, I think you are more deserving of punishment than reward." She drank in fresh cheers from the crowd. "First, I will allow you to assist me with the thrall, and then perhaps I'll give you to one of my followers. There must be plenty of folk here tonight who'd enjoy getting their hands on you." The clamor seemed to shake the walls of the room.

"Please," begged Robert over the roar, "please no. I promise I'll do anything you want-"

"Yes, you will. And what I want right now is for you to come over here and pick up a roll of tape. You see," she said as he bent to comply, "In keeping with my Egyptian theme this evening, I've decided to make a mummy. As you can tell, I'm almost through, but I think there are a few spots left where you can still see what's left of your fiancée. Why don't you help me cover them?"

Soon the only exposed areas of the thrall's skin were her eyes and nostrils and small holes over her ears. Her hands were crossed and bound against her chest. Beneath the tape her body sizzled with pent-up arousal. She had no desire to move, to fight back, to break free. In fact, she relished every ounce of lost control. Her thoughts focused on the hands running across her body, the bonds tying her more and more firmly into her Mistress' power. She rocked gently under the pressure of the Queen's hands.

At the Queen's command, Robert steadied the thrall as their Mistress bound her legs together. "And now, my pet," she said, "it is time for you to sleep." She passed her hand across the thrall's face and the thrall's eyes fell closed. She sagged limply into Robert's arms. "Your mind is slowing," chanted the Queen, "your body stiffening." She spread a piece of tape across the thrall's closed eyelids. "Within your wrappings, time is speeding up until each minute becomes a hundred years. But you are a mummy, and you will sleep through it all, mindless, lifeless, waiting for my call to wake you from your enchanted sleep. And you will take this with you-" she slipped a finger into the narrow crack between the thrall's legs and caressed her clit. The thrall shuddered even in her sleep.

"Centuries - millennia - of longing," the Queen continued. "When you wake you will burn for me like you've never burned before. Yet you will still, as always, be subject to my will. Now sleep, thrall, and await your Mistress' call." And with that, she taped over the mummy's ears.

Again at the Queen's command Robert lowered the mummy to the floor - aided by Leo, who volunteered to help almost before she could ask. He stared at Robert with an intensity that made the smaller man cringe and blush.

"Do you like my slave, Leo darling?" asked Catherine as Robert knelt before them.

"Very much, your Majesty."

"Enough to take him in hand?"

Robert's eyes bulged and his mouth opened, but he couldn't protest since his Mistress had commanded him to silence again.

"It would be my pleasure, your Majesty," leered Leo. "How would you like me to deal with him?"

"Quite sternly, I think." She dipped a finger under Robert's chin and raised him to a standing position. Then she eyed him critically from head to foot. "He needs someone to teach him the true meaning of submission. Someone to make him beg to be allowed to beg." Robert shook his head in silent horror.

"No, silly man," the Queen chided him. "Not like that. Like this." She flashed a hand across his face and his head rocked back, his eyes fluttering upwards and then settling into a glazed stare. "You are a slave; you feel it down to the very core of your being. Nothing arouses you like humiliation and submission and blind, unthinking obedience. You love the man who makes you serve; and yet you fear him, too, for he can withhold the thing you crave the most: command. Look to your Master-" here she pointed to Leo - "and show him your obedience."

Robert's head swiveled toward Leo and his heart almost split between awe and shame. All this time he'd been avoiding the man, flinching from his touch, almost literally running away from him. Yet this was his Master; Robert knew that down to the last fiber of his being. He fell at the dom's feet and smothered his boots with kisses.

Leo laughed and bent over him, ruffling his hair. "My little vanilla boy," he sneered, and his pleasure was almost as great as Robert's. It rippled outward from his rod in flaming waves. "I knew you'd be mine. And now that you are, you won't be vanilla any longer. Up, slave."

Robert sprang to his feet and Leo took the collar of his polo shirt in both hands and ripped it wide. Robert gasped at the brush of wind on his nipples. His cock, already swollen, strained hard against the seam of his pants. Leo pressed his hand against the bulge and cupped it tight. "My property now," he whispered, and Robert spasmed with delight. It is, he thought gratefully. I am.

He stood beaten before the crowd and their stares prickled over his skin like needles. They hated him, he knew - and with good reason. They must be thrilled to see him humiliated like this. Robert was thrilled, himself. He knew he should be angry, or embarrassed, or terrified; and in fact the shame in his chest burned like fire. But that burn was sweet; he'd have cursed the crowd again if he could, just to earn more scorn. Leo ripped away the last shreds of his clothes and he stood naked, tanned and handsome, with submission written in every line of his body. I was made for this he thought.

"On your knees," snarled his Master, and Robert folded gratefully to the floor. Oh yes, he knew what was coming now.

Leo unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down to his ankles. "Come," he commanded, and Robert crawled forward, his eyes riveted to his Master's bulging member. He licked his lips in anticipation. The weight of the crowd's stares pressed him down toward the cock and he caressed it with trembling lips. Like silk over iron, he thought. The crowd forgotten, he began to suck.

It was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

And all the while the thrall floated in a pearly dreamworld, motionless except for the steady pulsing of her crotch. The grunts of the men, the cheers of the crowd, they all flowed over her like water over stone. The millennia passed by and she lay still until at last her Queen had her hauled upright. Leo and Robert, both sated now, worked together to bring her to her feet.

Catherine peeled the tape away from one closed eye and one sealed ear. She cut the bindings on the thrall's legs but left her arms bound to her chest. Then she rested an elbow on the thrall's shoulder and turned to the spellbound crowd. "One hundred years per minute for almost sixty minutes. Assuming you could live for six thousand years, could you go that long without sex?" The crowd laughed nervously. "Let's see what the mummy has to say about it." She leaned in close and whispered, "Thrall, wake up." Then she blew in the uncovered ear.

The thrall's eyes flew open wide and her body jerked as though it had been electrocuted. She was suddenly beyond horniness, beyond orgasm. Helplessly she ground her hips and rubbed her legs against one another. It was all she could do; her arms were still bound across her chest. Her breathing was ragged, her silver eyes rolling in her head, her voice a wordless low moan. Again Catherine caressed her crotch, and she bucked so hard that Robert and Leo almost lost their grip.

"Silence, thrall," Catherine commanded, and the crowd obeyed as well. "Hold still," she said, and the thrall's body locked into quivering rigidity. "Within your wrappings, almost six thousand years have passed. So tell me, how do you feel?"

"I burn for you, Mistress," she groaned. "I burn like I've never burned before."

"And yet you are still my mindless slave, are you not?"

"Yes, Mistress."

The Queen ran a hand upward across the thrall's cunt, fingering the hidden ring and sending her into fresh spasms. "You still have no will but to obey my will, no desire but to serve me?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She slipped her tongue into the thrall's ear and swirled it around. The whole room moaned with the slave. "And if I ignore your burning and leave you bound, commanding you to pleasure me all night with your tongue; if I wrap your eyes and ears and mouth again and stand you in a corner, still conscious; if I force you to remain in this state for another six thousand years-" her hand glided up the back of the thrall's thigh, finding its way inward, upward to the center of her throbbing- "will you still be as helplessly bound to my will as you are now?"

"Yes, Mistress." The words were practically a shriek.

"Good thrall." Catherine patted her on the head and stepped back. "Very well, then. We will return to my suite, and there we will test the depths of your devotion. Leo, I leave this other slave to you, for as long as you care to dally with him. And now I shall say goodnight."

The crowd cheered as they left the lounge.

Back in their room Catherine "peeled" the thrall almost as quickly as she'd promised. The tape around the slave's joints and face came away easily, thanks to the oil she'd rubbed on them before they left the room. As for the binding she'd applied then, it came off with a few snips of a pair of blunt-edged scissors. For the tape had been laid over panty hose, hidden from the crowd and forgotten by the thrall herself, though it covered 90% of her body.

The Queen stripped her quickly, then licked the salty sweat from her body and led her to bed.

Even mindless, the thrall knew what was expected of her now. She caressed her Mistress' body in long, slow strokes, beginning at her shoulders and working down over her breasts and thighs before moving inward. Fingering Mistress' clit with one hand, she caressed her nipples with the other and with her mouth. Catherine curled on top of her and dug her fingers deep in the thrall's buttocks. "More," she sighed and the thrall, still aching with needs of her own, lowered her mouth to her Mistress' cunt and slid the hand she'd freed around Mistress' buttocks. Then she began to lick. Harder and deeper she stroked until Catherine cried out, shaking the bed with the force of her orgasm. The thrall sobbed with silent joy.

"Such a good little slave," Catherine murmured, stroking the damp bald head. "You've shown me your devotion, just as I knew you would. And now it's time for your reward." She flipped the thrall over on her back and slid down her belly until Catherine herself faced the naked cunt. Softly she kissed and blew, and the thrall mewed with pleasure. "Good little thrall," she breathed, and flicked her tongue against the golden ring. "Such a sweet mindless puppet. Even now, you'd sooner die than disobey me." She licked hard. "I could stand you in a corner right now and you wouldn't move, even to squeeze your legs together. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Mistress," the thrall answered raggedly. Her hands came up to curl through Catherine's hair. "Anything you command, Mistress."

Catherine drove deeper and the thrall cried out, her body tensing from head to toe. Then she fell deliciously limp. "Now, what do you say?" prompted Catherine, and the thrall sighed happily.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Good slave." She hooked a finger through the clit ring and twisted it oh so gently. "You remember my incantation? For as long as you wear my ring, you are my thrall."

"For as long as I wear your ring," the slave responded mechanically, "you are my Mistress."

"And when you no longer wear my ring-" here Catherine unhooked the tiny bauble-"you are no longer my thrall."

"When I no longer wear your ring, you are no longer my Mistress." And with that, Lorena's real memories came back. She lay still a moment, letting her thoughts reassemble themselves, then looked into Catherine's gentle, laughing eyes. "We really did it, didn't we?"

"We sure did, lover. We had them eating out of the palms of our hands. Did you enjoy it as much as I did?"

Lorena rolled her eyes and giggled. "More! I don't think even Robert could have had as much fun as I had."

"Don't bet on it." Catherine quirked her lips. "He must have worked up a major letch, stirring up the crowd like that and pretending to hate Leo on top of everything else. They're probably still balling their brains out."

"Maybe so," answered Lenora, "but they're doing it wide awake."

"And they'll keep doing it that way," smiled Catherine, "unless Leo masters my kind of hypnosis. They might be our best friends; but only you, my sweet, will ever taste Queen Catherine's thralldom."

Lorena leaned up to peck her lover's lips. "Thank you, Catherine. This has been the best day of my life."

"Mine, too," said Catherine. Gently she caressed her lover's cheek. "So, are we on again for tomorrow?"

"Absolutely!" Lorena closed her hand around Catherine's, holding the ring. "Do it!"

"Your wish is my command." Catherine slipped the ring through Lorena's clit and intoned the magic words. "For as long as you wear my ring, you are my thrall."

"For as long as I wear your ring, you are my Mistress."

She slept that night with her fingers curled protectively around the ring.