Masters' Night In Pt. 04

If you haven't read the first three parts, go back and do so now. Otherwise, this will make little sense. There are also a number of references to events in The Shopping Spree, especially part 4. The action is heating up in this episode, as are Soma's/Galatea's epiphanies. I hope you enjoy it. In any event, I would love to read your comments, good or bad.

Saturday

I woke up ahead of the alarm and lay in bed with my eyes closed. Today was the day I was going to give myself fully to my Masters. The preparation had left me feeling empty inside: my ass... no, today I was Galatea... my pussy was longing to be filled, as was my stomach, which was complaining about 18 hours with nothing but water. Speaking of water, my clitoris was straining at its cage, making its case for me getting out of bed NOW.

I hopped up and hit the bathroom. By now, sitting and directing my flow properly had become second nature. I wondered if I would ever want to urinate standing up again, even when freed from confinement: seated and focused, I was aware of the sensation of liquid flowing out of my body and massaging me internally as it did. I closed my eyes and played with my chest hair and nipples, luxuriating in discovering my body.

Finally, the morning enema came out clear the first time. I added one more bulb, just to be sure... and because I loved the feeling of the stem teasing my pussy before invading me and caressing my inner walls. I moved it slowly in and out, scratching the itch I had never known was there, before squeezing the bulb and feeling the warmth fill me, promising greater delights later that day. I felt my clitoris pushing against its vulvular cage, dripping with desire. Only the orders I had been given kept me from scooping up that nectar and savoring its flavor. My mouth, I hoped, would be filled soon enough.

For the first time, I ran a warm, not hot, shower. I had read somewhere that warm water was better for the skin and I wanted it to be soft for my Masters. The droplets caressed my skin and I felt every one sensitizing my nerves, preparing them for the stimulation of the loofah. The skin is the largest organ in the body. It was now my largest erogenous zone, every pore, every cell responding to the beating of the water, then to the air breathing softly on it as I toweled off. I had never felt more alive and aware of my body.

I coated my fingers with lube and pushed them as deeply into my pussy as I could, wishing I could reach my G-spot. Instead, I had to be satisfied, for the moment, with pushing my slicked up plug into me. I went slowly, sliding it in a quarter inch, pulling it out, then pushing it in a little further each time, knowing this was a poor substitute for what would be happening shortly. I was panting by the time my pussy closed over it and it was set in place.

After washing my hands, shaving and brushing my teeth, I returned to my bedroom, where I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. The cotton lining cocooned me in pleasure and caused my nipples to swell even more. I sat on the bed and slipped my sneakers over my bare feet, pushing happily on the mattress to drive the plug even deeper.

After downing a glass of water to quiet my stomach, I put my wallet, phone and test results in a fanny pack, grabbed my keys and headed out. I faced skyward and closed my eyes, lifting my arms and feeling the warmth of the sun contrasting with the cold breeze, awakening me more than any cup of coffee could have. I wanted to shout with joy, but, mindful of the neighbors, I refrained and went to the car. After starting the car, I texted Master Jim and headed over, my heart pounding nervously.

I pulled into Master Fred's driveway at 9:53 and saw Master Jim's car was already there. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the car and rang the doorbell. The door opened and Master Fred stood in front of me. He was wearing pajamas and a robe with a pair of slippers on his feet. He smiled when he saw me and opened the door wide.

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring."

I was reminded that, the moment I crossed the threshold, I would be consenting to whatever happened that day, without reservation or safeword. I would belong completely to my Masters, subject to all their perverted desires, my body nothing but a receptacle for their lust. I considered all the implications and carefully thought things through for a good seven milliseconds before stepping inside.

He closed the door and I threw my arms around his neck, pulling his head down to mine and glueing my lips to his. I thrust my body against his and took in the scent of his aftershave. I opened my mouth and tasted the coffee on his tongue as I got reacquainted with every bump. As I ran my hands through his white hair, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight against him. I could feel his cock pressing against me. My cage was being tested as never before; somehow, it held fast. My pussy was squeezing on the plug and driving me closer into him.

After an hour or so, he pulled his head back and held me by my shoulders.

"Good morning, Galatea."

"Good morning, Sir."

"It looks like you missed us," came Master Jim's voice. He was wearing a Duke logo sweatsuit and a pair of white socks.

"Good morning, Sir," I said quietly, "I'm looking forward to serving you today."

I opened the fanny pack and handed the paper from the Health Department to Master Jim, who looked it over while I unbuckled it and set on the chair next to the door.

"I didn't ask you to be tested, Galatea, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Well, Sir, I figured sauce for the gander would be sauce for the goose."

"And, speaking of sauce, it looks like Fred needs your service," he replied, looking at the tent under Master Fred's robe. "Are you hungry, Galatea?"

"I'm famished, Sir," I replied, licking my lips and staring lustfully at Master Fred's crotch.

"Good. We'll make sure you're well fed. I hope you like hot protein shakes. Now, take off your shoes and join us in the living room."

I untied my shoes and set them by the door, then walked quickly to the living room. I understood why Master Jim had his socks on: the hardwood floors were attractive but cold. My Masters were sitting on the sofa. Master Jim stood up and dropped his cushion in front of Master Fred, who had opened his robe.

"I'm going to grab another cup of coffee. In the meantime, I think Fred has breakfast plans for you."

I dropped to my knees in front of Master Fred, who had spread his legs and leaned back with his head facing the ceiling. I leaned in and reached into his fly to expose his cock and balls. I inhaled deeply, ignoring the pubic hairs that tickled my nose, and savored his freshly showered scent. His cock was already starting to drip and I made sure to lick up every bit of liquid on his cock. I cradled his scrotum gently in my palm and plunged my mouth down his cock and started sucking as if it was my last meal. There was no subtlety or finesse, only a primal hunger for his cock and for his cum.

I slathered his shaft with my tongue and slid my mouth up until only the head was still inside. I ran my tongue around his frenulum in ever more urgent circles while lapping up and swallowing the salty sweet precum that was flowing more copiously. My breathing was picking up pace and matching his. My eyes were closed, my universe reduced to the tip of his cock in my mouth and his saliva coated shaft my hand was stroking. From deep within, I heard him start to growl and felt his hands clamp on my head and push it down onto his cock until my nose was buried in his crotch. His cock was lodged near the entrance to my throat, but wasn't long enough to trigger my gag reflex. It was perfect for me.

My tongue was doing its best to continue licking him when I felt his cock twitch toward the roof of my mouth. Then came the first pulse and my mouth began to fill with his essence. I swallowed as quickly as he pulsed: one, two, three, four, five convulsions of his cock and a cry of muffled pleasure as I felt him lift off the cushion with each pulse. Then he collapsed onto the couch and I went after the dregs, sucking and licking on his cock as it returned to normal, not wanting to miss a single drop of his goodness.

I lay my head on his thigh, lazily nursing on his cock while his breathing slowed down and he played with my hair. I noticed his thigh would twitch when I licked the now supersensitive cock head. I played with it for a while, stroking his other thigh while enjoying my control over him. I smiled with the knowledge that I was where I should be: on my knees bringing pleasure to my man.

I looked up and saw him looking down at me with a smile.

"Mmmm, thank you, Sir. I needed that."

"I hope that will hold you for a while. I'm going to need to recharge," he said, stroking my cheek.

"It was quite tasty, Sir, but I'm still hungry. Do you think Master Jim can feed me?"

"Master Jim," said a voice from the kitchen, "is enjoying his coffee and is saving himself for later. Sounds like someone is a greedy little trollop."

"It's your fault, Sir," I pouted, lifting my head and looking in his direction. "You've had me starving myself and turning me into a sex-crazed bimbo."

He walked in with his mug and I realized how wonderful the aroma of fresh brewed coffee was. Meanwhile, Master Fred had wiped the excess drool off his cock with a tissue and tucked himself away.

"Hardly a bimbo, Galatea," Master Jim responded as he sat in a chair and took another sip. "Sex-crazed? I certainly hope so. And never fear: you will get your fill of cock and cum today, I can promise you that. But that's not the main reason you're here."

I had replaced the sofa cushion and sat down next to Master Fred with my legs curled up, my head on his shoulder and his arm around me. I gazed at him, wanting to stroke each wrinkle in his face and cover them in kisses. Where is all this girly stuff coming from?

"Your other Masters are going to drop by this afternoon to watch the game. Unfortunately, George can't make it today, so it will be Gordon and Pete joining us. You will be our serving wench. It will be your job to keep everyone supplied with food and drink and to deal with whatever may... come up. We also have a special half time show planned, but you don't need to worry your pretty little head about that right now. You're here to make your Masters happy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I beamed happily. "I'm going to spend the day doing what I love most to do: serve my Masters."

He frowned. "Not quite, Galatea. You're going to spend the day doing what we most love, which is having you serve us."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

Master Jim sighed and stood up.

"Not at all, Galatea. You have given yourself to us as our slave. That means your sole purpose is to obey our commands and make us happy. In exchange, we promise not to damage you. We did not promise to give you pleasure. If you happen to receive it while you're serving us, well and good, but it's not our primary concern, nor should it be yours. Do you remember what you agreed to?"

"Yes, Sir," I looked puzzled, "I agreed to allow you to use me in the manner of your choosing as long as I'm in the house. And I agreed to so, gladly."

"We shall see. Tell me, Galatea, are you still thirsty?" He rubbed his cock through his sweatpants. I perked up and licked my lips.

"Oh, yes, Sir," I said in my most sultry voice. "Please let me feast on your cock."

He took another gulp of his coffee.

"Come over here, on your knees... and no talking unless I give you permission."

I went to my knees and slowly moved over to where he was standing.

"Pull my pants down to my knees."

I grinned as I pulled the waistband down, taking his underpants with it. To my surprise, his cock was still flaccid. I started to take it in my mouth when he stopped me.

"I didn't tell you to suck me. Take it in your hand... put your fingers on the shaft, just behind the head."

I watched in horror as he put his coffee mug under his penis and began urinating in it. I was careful to keep it pointed toward the cup so it wouldn't splash on the floor. When the mug was full, he stopped and handed me the mug. It was hot from the fresh urine. The sour stench combined with the leftover coffee to create a scent that was quite nauseating.

"Jim, what are you doing?" Master Fred asked anxiously.

"I'm seeing if Galatea is another wannabe or someone truly worthy of us... someone worthy of you, Fred. Come over here and take a look."

I looked pleadingly at Master Fred as he stood next to Master Jim. He knew toilet games were on my hard limits list. They had always respected my limits. But you gave up your limits when you agreed to their terms, Galatea. Yes, but I didn't expect anything like this!

"You seem confused, Galatea," said Master Jim. "Don't you like having your Master's golden nectar in front of you? You may speak."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"I expect you always to speak freely and truthfully when you're with us."

"Sir," I said nervously, "With respect, it smells bad."

They both broke out laughing.

"Of course it smells bad," Master Jim said, "It's piss. Don't you like smelling your Master's piss?"

"N... no, Sir," I stuttered.

"Good. That means your nose is still working. Doesn't it look tasty, Galatea? You said you were thirsty."

"No, Sir, I changed my mind. I'm not thirsty anymore. I don't want to drink it. Please, Sir," I turned to Master Fred, "Don't make me do this."

He sighed and gave Master Jim a look as if to say, "You were right."

"I'm not asking you if you want to drink it, I'm telling you If you want to please me, if you're really interested in serving us and not wasting our time playing kinky games, you will drink it. Of course, you have a choice: you can put it down and walk out the door, or you can show us you meant what you said when you entered this house and our domain. But choose now."

I felt the tears start to well up as I looked to Master Fred for help. He gave me a troubled look, but said nothing. Did they really expect me to debase myself for their gratification?

Why am I thinking about debasing myself? Damn, Master Jim is right: I'm thinking about myself and my own dignity, not about my Masters. So what if he wants me to drink his urine? It won't kill me. And anyway, didn't I give them my body to use as they please? Don't I want to please them above all else? If drinking his urine brings them pleasure, how can I say it's debasing? Aren't I simply being who I say I am?

I raised the mug slowly to my lips and tilted it forward. I closed my eyes and felt the first drops of urine on my lips and parted them to sip it...

"Stop!" Master Jim called out. "Put the mug down." I did so and, without thinking, licked my lips, nearly gagging as my tongue got its first and, I hoped, last taste of urine.

Master Jim pulled me up and licked my lips before claiming my tongue with his. I knew he had to be tasting it, but I was too swept up emotionally to process what was happening.

"Galatea," he said when he broke off the kiss, "Dear, sweet, Galatea, you are truly a remarkable lady and we are honored to have you serve us."

"Huh?" I responded thoughtfully.

Master Fred laughed at my confusion.

"You showed us the depth of your devotion. It was no test for your to swallow our cocks or even to be our serving wench: you love doing those things. The true test wasn't simply your willingness to do something you despised: it was you trusting us enough to do so."

"You could have stopped me before I actually tasted it," I protested.

"No," Master Jim replied, "We couldn't. We needed to know you would actually go through with it. Until you actually had it on your lips, you could have chickened out. And don't worry: never again will we ask you to break a hard limit."

"You weren't exactly asking this time, Sir, but I understand. I am your slave, after all..."

"No. You are our Galatea... so much more than a slave. You belong us and we belong to you."

"But, Sir, what does that even mean?"

"I don't know, Galatea, I don't know... but we're going to find out together, and it's going to be wonderful... but why are you crying?"

"I don't know, Sir," I sniffled, "I'm feeling funny inside, like a glow. I want to wrap myself inside you both... inside all of you. And... and I want to be your woman... damn, I wish I could be a woman."

"Who says you're not?" said Master Fred gently, "Do you think being a woman is a matter of breasts and vaginas? Do you think that because your body has hair and you're not a model that you're any less our woman? I can hear the difference in your voice; I can see the difference in your attitude and pose. And I can definitely feel the difference when we kiss. Would Soma be playing tonsil hockey with us?"

"God, no, Sir. You're right... I'm not Soma right now. I don't know if I will be again."

"Unless you're going to transition, which I don't think you're planning, Soma will have to remain. He is who you are to the rest of the world. But to us, your Masters, you are our Galatea, our lady, and we shall treat you that way. Now, get out of those clothes. I'm anxious to see how Nora wrapped you up for us. Besides, you're getting a wet spot on your pants."

I took off my sweatshirt, then slid my sweatpants down, stepping out of them and leaving them pooled on the floor. Master Fred whistled.

"She gave you a pussy and locked you away behind it! I love the way she thinks. And it's even showing your excitement," he added, rubbing the drops of precum off the slit and offering it to me. I sucked on his finger and ran my tongue over it, closing my eyes and humming contentedly. I felt Master Jim's hand on the jeweled plug, and I bent over slightly, giving him room to twist it and play with it.

"You're definitely pretty in pink with that plug, though I'm shocked at what a brazen hussy you are, turning your pussy into a red light district."

I wiggled my ass. "It's open for business, Sir. Please feel free to take advantage of it."

"All in good time, Galatea. Fred, how's the lock?"

He twisted the cage to expose the lock and bent down to look at it.

"The wax is still there and I can see Nora's imprint on it. Looks like our Galatea was a good girl. Now, give me your key so I can unlock it."

The key! I had left it at home!

"Damnit!" I shouted, "I left it at home!"

Master Fred looked at me with disappointment. "Language... a lady shouldn't use profanity. You left the key at home? Are you, perhaps, saying subconsciously you don't want to be released from your chastity?"

"No, Sir," I panicked, "I wasn't thinking that; I just wasn't thinking. Please, Sir, let me run home and get it. It won't take long..."

"But you're naked and Jim's already put your clothes away. I'm afraid you don't get them back until it's time for you to go home. Are you ready to go home, Galatea?"

I blanched. "No, Sir, I don't want to go home yet. I... I guess I'll have to wear it. I'm sorry, Sir."

"Fred," Master Jim asked, "Didn't I see something on the mantle?"

"You mean the spare key? Oh, yes, I did put it there, didn't I? I'll go get it."

Bastards! You're trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?

Master Fred saw the glare in my eyes and chuckled.

"Relax, Galatea: we're having fun with you. After all, what's the use of having a slave if she can't be amusing? Now, let's take a look at that lock..."

I huffed and gave him a death glance as he scraped the wax off the lock. With a twist of the key, the vulva was disconnected from the band around my scrotum and he gently worked it off. My clitoris was free and wasted no time celebrating its new found freedom. Master Jim ran his hand over my clitoris and scrotum, causing me to moan.

"It looks like they're none the worse for wear. But no squirting for you, at least not yet. I don't want you touching yourself down there except to shave. Now, go directly to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Be sure you remove your plug and clean it before you get in the shower. You'll find an enema attachment there. Use it until you're thoroughly clean and wash your body down with the loofah. Use the body scrub over every inch of your body. I want you smelling like strawberries. Be sure to shave your crotch and your pussy, as well as your underarms. If you leave any strays, I'll take care of them with a pair of tweezers. When you've finished, go to your room and put on what you find on your bed. Then you may come downstairs and amaze us with how wonderful you look. The others will be getting here in about two hours, so don't dawdle."

He gave me a playful swat on my tush as I turned and climbed the stairs. I made sure to give them a show as I ascended.

"Oh, one more thing, Galatea. If you ejaculate, I'll send you home without your supper, or your clothes. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," I sighed, preparing for a protracted battle with my body.

I made my way to the bathroom, appreciating the relative warmth of the carpet on my feet. Stepping onto the bathroom tiles was another matter altogether. I hoped my uniform for the day included leggings, or at least stockings, to keep me warm. On the vanity was a toothbrush, toothpaste, a package of feminine wipes, a bottle of lube and a small bottle of bleach. In the shower, next to the enema nozzle, was a bottle of strawberry body wash, a loofah, a razor and a can of ladies shaving gel (also strawberry scented).

I was happy to see two sinks in the vanity. I filled the first with hot water and added a generous portion of bleach. I took hold of the plug in my pussy and eased it out. After a quick wipe, which came back clean, I dropped it in the sanitizing solution while I prepared my body.

I stepped into the shower and, after steeling myself, turned on the cold water. I jumped and shouted involuntarily as it hit me. I picked up the shower head, pointed it at my clitoris and watched as it slowly shrank. I was cold and miserable, but I also knew this was the only safe way to deal with my horniness.

When my clitoris had once again retreated to its hood, I turned on the hot water and adjusted the shower to a warm spray. After using the enema nozzle on my pussy, I lathered up my crotch and shaved it carefully, especially the scrotum. I rubbed the shave gel over my pussy crack and perineum and cleared them of hair.

I ran my hand over my buttocks and felt the hair there. Shaving that would be a major undertaking and would likely raise questions later on at home. I thought about it and decided to leave them alone. Much as I would love to have a hairless body, I knew, and my Masters knew, that wasn't an option. If they wanted a totally smooth bottom, they'd just have to turn me over their knees and take a pair of tweezers to me... wouldn't that be sweet agony? And wouldn't that be something I'd better stop thinking about, judging by my clitoris? Down, girl... don't make me hit you with the cold water again.

After shaving my underarms, I put the razor down, grabbed the loofah and poured some shower gel on it. The room turned into a strawberry patch as I lathered my body and luxuriated in feeling the last traces of Soma being exfoliated, replaced by the fresh, glowing skin of Galatea. I inhaled the scent... my scent, and started to sing in my best falsetto:

I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright And I pity any girl who isn't me tonight

After drying off, I shaved my face again, wanting it to be as smooth as possible, and brushed my teeth. After rinsing off my plug, I lubed it up and returned it to where it belonged. I looked in the mirror and saw myself: a goofy grin on my face and erect nipples peeking out of a light coat of chest hair that couldn't hide my man boobs. It was completely ridiculous... and ridiculously perfect. I laughed at the sheer delight of being alive... truly alive. My body may not be much, but my Masters wanted it. They desired me! And I desired them, with all their imperfections and aging bodies. I twirled my way naked down the hall to the bedroom Master Fred had set up for me and closed the door behind me.

Laid out on the bed was a dark pink set of satin lounging pajamas. On the floor was a pair of pink open toe slippers with a two inch kitten heel; pink fluffy feathers over the top band lent a whimsical touch. I didn't see underwear on the bed: it appeared I would be going commando.

On the desk were a bottle of dark pink nail polish, a dish of cotton balls, a panty liner, a bottle of water and an odd looking piece of pink plastic, whose function I intuited all too well, if my pussy clenching on the plug was any indication. An embossed note card was propped up against a small bell. I picked it up and read it.

Galatea,

We hope you enjoy your ensemble: you'll look smashing in it. You may have a challenge in fitting your new cage, but we know you'll manage. Feel free to put the panty liner in your pajama pants: we wouldn't want any wet spots. When you're dressed, ring the bell and await further instructions.

Your Masters

According to the instruction sheet, my new pink prison was a fiendish device called the Holy Trainer. I wasn't sure what it was training, only that the shell holding my clitoris had even less room than the plastic vulva had offered. That posed an immediate problem, as I was now fully erect and throbbing. Clearly, I was expected to put it on myself. I briefly considered calling down for a glass of ice, but the note's tone was clear: they didn't want to hear from me until I was prepared for them. Squeezing my scrotum was out: I was still not allowed to touch my nethers. What was a girl to do?

I reached for the water bottle, but it was at room temperature. I looked for a thermostat, but didn't find one in the room. Master Fred was keeping it toasty warm, no doubt out of consideration for my naked condition. It was a marked contrast to the blustery weather outside...

... hmm, blustery weather outside. I drew back the curtains on the window and felt the chill on the pane. Oh, the things we have to do to satisfy our men... at least the trees are blocking the neighbors, I hope... I turned the latch and raised the window, shivering when the first gust of winter air hit me. I pushed my abdomen and crotch forward and closed the window as much as possible, trying to focus the cold away from my chest and face It only took a couple of minutes for my clitoris to lose its excitement and retreat into my scrotum, which was also shriveling up.

Before either of them could change their minds, I pulled the ring over my scrotum and pushed my clitoris into its confinement. After fiddling with the locking mechanism, I turned the key and heard it snap into place. My balls were dangling below the hunk of plastic that was keeping my clitoris free from the danger of enjoying itself. There was a slot for urination, but that was about it. There would be no orgasms from clitoral stimulation for me as long as I was caged. With that under control, I closed the window and relocked it.

There might be no pleasure for my clitoris, but it was still capable of weeping for joy, as the drop that was already appearing showed. I wiped it off with a cotton ball, then slid the pajama pants up my legs. God! I had never felt such smoothness on my legs. I shivered again, not from the cold. I peeled the paper off the panty liner and positioned it where my caged clitoris would be then pulled the pants up to my waist. I slipped on the top and buttoned it.

I lay back on the bed for a moment to let all the sensations wash over me. My body was awash in a mix of sensations that was intensified by the cold and the dual throbbing from my crotch. I ran my hands over the silk pajamas and felt my nipples poking against the fabric. I pinched and twisted them and squirmed on the bed, feeling the glow of desire suffusing my body. I understood why I was caged: my Masters knew how to keep my hunger for them growing.

My stomach reminded me my hunger wasn't only sexual. As delicious as Master Fred's cum had been, it hadn't come close to filling a stomach that had had no solid food for almost 24 hours. I drank the bottle of water to quiet my stomach for the moment, then slipped into the mules that had been left for me. I walked around the room for a bit, getting my balance and enjoying the softness of the feathers on the top of my feet. I picked up the bottle of nail polish and considered it thoughtfully. I wanted to look my best for my Masters, but my instructions said nothing about nail polish. My Masters may have forgotten to write it down... no, they were my Masters and wouldn't have left out something that important. Best to follow instructions. I picked up the bell and rang it.

I heard footsteps climbing the stairs. The door opened and in came Masters Jim and Fred... and Master Gordon. He was wearing a UNC sweatsuit and white socks. He came over and gave me a hug, which I reciprocated. No kiss... I wonder why? And why am I even thinking about that?

"Master Gordon," I bubbled, "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, but I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I, princess. Let me look at you."

He held me at arms length and ogled me, starting with my shoes and giving me a very lustful look when his eyes arrived back at my face.

"You look good enough to eat, girl. And you smell good, too."

"Thank you, Sir... and speaking of looking good enough to eat..." I ran my hand appreciatively over his growing bulge. One nice thing about sweatpants: you can't hide how you feel. And I liked the way everyone was feeling.

"You're a hungry little slut, aren't you?" asked Master Jim, "I think we're going to have to keep your diet restricted more often. It does wonders for your attitude."

"When it comes to my Masters, I'm an absolute glutton for whatever you have to feed me. And I like the way you're all dressed."

"Thank you, Galatea. We want to be sure you have easy access to everything we need," he replied. I licked my lips and hummed.

"Is it me, or is it cold in here?" Master Fred looked at me.

I looked down. "Well, Sir, I was having trouble putting on the cage and I needed to... get some things under control. So I opened the window a little."

I looked up poutingly as they all broke out in laughter.

"It's not funny, Sirs! I was cold!"

They responded to my outburst with the laughter it deserved.

"Speaking of clothes," Master Fred said, "You look good in silk... really good."

"Thank you, Sir," I said, blushing, "I love how it feels on me, though I'm sort of surprised you didn't have a maid's outfit for me."

"You're not exactly the Fifi the French Maid," said Master Jim. "I think the casual look suits you better."

"Is that why you got me the fluffy slippers?"

"Those were Gordon's idea. He thinks you should always wear heels. Besides, the feathers look cute on you."

"Actually," corrected Master Gordon, "The shoes were Phil's idea. He remembered you, Galatea, and thought they would suit you. And they certainly do, girl... though there seems to be something missing..."

I wiggled my toes. "Polish, Sir?"

He snapped his fingers.

"That's it... of course. You haven't painted your nails."

"No, Sir, I haven't had a chance yet."

"There's some nail polish on the desk, Gordon," said Master Jim. "Why don't you take care of her while we set things up downstairs?"

"It'll be my pleasure. Don't worry: she'll have the prettiest toes in the house when I'm finished."

"I'm sure she will," said Master Fred, as he and Master Jim walked out of the room. "By the way, keep the door open, will you?"

"Are you afraid I'll take advantage of fair Galatea here?"

"Oh, I'm sure you will. We just don't want to miss any of the action. Have fun, you two."

Master Gordon picked up the bottle and held it up next to my sleeve.

"This will complement your loungewear nicely. Let me see your hands."

I held them out palm down and he took them in his. He perused them carefully, especially the nails. I felt his thumbs rubbing my palms and I twitched a bit. He turned them over and planted a kiss in the middle of each palms and I shivered a little. He looked me in the eyes and I lowered my gaze, unable to maintain eye contact.

"Look at you, Galatea: the shy young maiden. And your hands are so smooth... let's see if your feet are as lovely as I remember them."

He led me to the bed and had me sit on it. He knelt in front of me and slipped my left foot out of its shoe. I wiggled my toes for him and he grinned. He held it in his hand and massaged it gently, watching me as I leaned back and enjoyed his caresses. I slipped my foot out of the other shoe and ran my toes over his crotch, playing with his cock through the cotton. His hand gripped my foot more tightly and guided it to his mouth. He ran his tongue over the bottom of my foot, then slipped it around my toes. I gasped with pleasure and started breathing heavily. My clitoris was pushing on the cage, reminding me of its captivity.

"God, Galatea, you're... driving me... crazy with your toes..." and then I stopped the conversation by moving my foot into his mouth. He grabbed it with both hands and devoured it like a popsicle on a summer day. I leaned back on the bed and closed my eyes, letting him have his way with my foot and muttering incoherently as his tongue took long licks up the length of my sole, then sucked on each toe before popping it out of his mouth. I was squealing with pleasure...

... and then he twisted my legs up onto the bed and pulled my torso over so that my body was on the edge of the bed. He slid down his sweatpants and his cock sprang out in front of me, at its full 8 inches of slender splendor and oozing precum. I opened my mouth and licked it clean. The salty sweetness overwhelmed me and I pulled at his ass cheeks.

"Give me your cum, please give it to me. I need you in my mouth, I need that cock, oh, mmmmf..."

Whatever else I was going to say was cut off by his cock filling my mouth and then some. He was pushing into me with abandon, and I started to gag as it moved toward my throat. He backed off slightly, which gave me room to lick around the head and frenulum. He was giving me a steady stream of precum and I knew he wouldn't last much longer... at least, I hoped he wouldn't. I didn't want to make love to his cock: I wanted to taste his cum in my mouth, to add to what Master Fred had given me earlier.

And then he moaned deeply, grabbed my head and filled my mouth with his hot cum, warming my mouth as well as my heart. I savored the salty goodness as I swallowed, grateful for his wonderful gift and thankful that he was such a caring, considerate Master. I thrust my hips, trying to provide relief for my clitoris, but it did nothing but remind me of its presence and its need.

We remained frozen in that tableau, his hands on the bed behind me supporting himself, my hands on his ass, kneading and squeezing his globes. I wanted to stay like this forever, but his cock was deflating and he slowly slid it out of my mouth. He looked down at me, still wearing his wire rim glasses and I gazed adoringly into his tanned and wrinkled face, wondering what I had done to deserve him. We smiled and I started laughing. He looked at me oddly, but saw the joy in my eyes and added his deep laughter to mine.

"What's going on up there?"

"Just a midmorning snack, Sir," and we both giggled.

Gordon pulled up his sweat pants and we both saw the dark spot on the front. I pointed at it and we both started giggling again. Master Jim poked his head in the door.

"What's going on up here? Gordon, are you having your way with our Galatea?"

"Oh, God, Sir," I cried in my best girlish voice, "He took advantage of me and forced himself on me. He cruelly assaulted my mouth with his penis and forced me to swallow his cum. He's a brute, an absolute brute," I finished, smiling at Master Gordon the entire time.

"If that's all he did, I don't see the problem, do you?"

"Oh, no, Sir. We sex slaves are here for our Masters' use. I'll just have to learn how to put up with his indignities. But next time, he'd better have more cum for me."

"Sounds like your work is cut out for you, Gordon. Think you can keep up with the little nympho?"

"Wait until halftime. We'll see who can keep up with whom!"

I looked puzzled.

"Halftime, Sir?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Galatea," said Master Jim, comforting me not at all. Oh, well... I suppose that's the lot of the sex slave: existing just to look pretty and be used by her Masters until they were satisfied and she was worn out. At least, I hoped that was the lot of the sex slave.

"Think you can get her nails done now? Pete will be here in a bit and she needs to be ready. And please don't wrinkle her clothes."

"No worries, Jim. I'll get started now."

"Masters, you'll have to give me a moment. Nature calls, rather urgently," and I ran barefoot to the bathroom. I was just in time, as the flow started almost as soon as I sat on the toilet. While I was relieving myself, I looked at the panty liner and was surprised at how wet it was. I touched it and found it wasn't urine, but juices coming from my clitoris. I may not have been able to ejaculate, but my body was still generating precum.

I was wiping my cage with a tissue when Master Gordon walked in.

"Are you almost finished? I need to take a piss."

"Yes, Sir. I'm just cleaning up. I'll let you know when I'm finished."

He stood in the doorway with his arms folded, watching me. It was clear he wasn't going to leave. My body chose that moment to release another dribble. I blushed, knowing he could hear it hitting the water. This was not how I wanted a Master, or anyone else, to see me: sitting on a toilet, performing the most intimate and disgusting bodily functions.

"Uh, Sir? Do you mind turning around? I need to clean up."

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes, Sir. This is a very private moment for me. I don't really like people watching me using the bathroom. I even close the door at home when I'm alone."

"As your Master, I have an open door policy. And I'm fine where I am. But I'm not fine doing a lot of chit chat with a full bladder."

"I'm sorry, Sir," I apologized, dropping the tissue into the bowl and pulling up my pants. I passed him on my way out the door, but he grabbed my arm. He looked intently at me, his eyes inches away from mine. I felt his breath on me and wondered what I had done wrong.

He leaned over and whispered, "You didn't wash your hands."

I pulled back, shocked that I had failed to do so and ashamed that he had noticed. What must he think of me?

"I'm so sorry, Master Gordon. I was in such a rush to let you use the bathroom that it just slipped my mind. Honestly, Sir, I'm not a slob... I usually wash my hands..."

He put his finger over my lips.

"Slow down, princess; no need to explain yourself or apologize. I know you're in a bit of a tizzy right now, but you need to slow down, relax and let your Master take care of you. But first, you need to take care of your Master."

I was puzzled. Surely he wasn't ready for another round of oral?

"I don't understand, Sir."

"It's quite simple, but also quite urgent. I need you to hold my cock so I don't miss the bowl. Men stand up when they take a piss and I don't want to get anything on Fred's floor."

While he had been talking, he guided me to the bowl. He stood with his legs spread and his arms folded, waiting. He doesn't actually expect me to... to hold his cock while he urinates, does he? That's disgusting. I would never... that's right: I would never... but what does that matter? My Master wants me to do something for him. Is it a hard limit? He's not asking to urinate on me or drink it. I don't like it, I don't want to do it, but I'm his slave: how can I say no? Besides, I'll find out if he's a grower or a shower.

I raised the seat to provide a larger target area and reached for his waistband. I was surprised to find his sweatpants had a fly. I reached inside and found his cock. I took it and maneuvered it gently outside. He was definitely a shower, as what seemed to be six inches of soft flesh was in my hand. I pointed it toward the center of the bowl.

"I'm ready, Sir," I whispered, my eyes focused on the tip of his cock.

I felt the flow through his shaft and saw a jet of yellow liquid hit the water. The acrid scent of concentrated urine hit my nostrils, and his cock started to jerk up. I tightened my grip slightly and directed the flow, like a fireman wrangling an unruly hose.

He stood there for a good thirty seconds before the flow started to die down. When it finally stopped, I held my position, waiting for the inevitable secondary flow, knowing how my own urinary system operated. I had an opportunity to examine his cock in its natural state, noticing for the first time a few age spots on the shaft.

"Thank you, Galatea. You may clean me up now."

"Thank you, Sir," I murmured, taking a piece of toilet paper and dabbing his cock dry before putting it back inside his pants. He adjusted himself as I lowered the lid and flushed.

I went to the sink to wash up. I had turned on the water, adjusted the temperature and soaped up my hands when I felt him against my back. I looked in the mirror and saw him behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and took my hands in his. His fingers interlaced with mine and he twisted our hands into a single soapy mass. He wasn't simply washing my hands: he was making love to them.

I ran my fingers over his palms, feeling the toughness that came from honest work. They were firm, but not calloused. I leaned into him and sighed, rubbing my tush against his manhood as his fingers caressed my hands.

"How do you do it, Galatea?"

I opened my eyes and saw him looking intently at the mirror. My eyes met his, seeing his face next to mine, almost cheek to cheek. He kept washing my hands and I joined in running our hands together under the sink. I couldn't take my eyes away from his: they had an intensity, almost a hunger.

"Do what, Sir?"

"How do you keep your face so smooth? The rest of us are wrinkled old coots and you're as smooth as a college student. What's your secret?"

I smiled at his vision problems: he needed a stronger prescription. Then I took another look at myself through his lens. Dang! He's right: a couple of small lines around my eyes and some darkening under them, but I do look like a youngster next to my Masters. I never noticed that before.

"Clean living, Sir," I replied, grinding against his cock to make the point. "Actually, I was a redhead growing up and couldn't be in the sun for more than about ten minutes before burning. So I stayed indoors for the most part and, with my office jobs, I haven't been out in the sun a lot over the years. When I go to the beach or walk outside, I slather on the SPF 50. Thank you for noticing."

He turned off the water and kissed my cheek before taking a towel and drying our hands together. My cage was straining again and I felt the glow rekindling. I ran the back of my hand over his tan cheek, feeling the character there. I opened my lips in invitation and he accepted it, his tongue darting inside for a second before he pulled back suddenly.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to do that. I'm not much of a kisser." You mean you don't like to kiss men, don't you?

"Please don't apologize, Sir. It was a very nice kiss. And I'll tell you a secret: before I met you Masters, I would never have considered kissing a man. But you're very special, all of you. You've shown me so much about myself, and treated me like I'm a princess. You don't know what that means to me."

"I shouldn't have made you stay in here with me."

"I'm glad you did, Sir. I did something I never thought I would have done and it was... interesting. Your penis felt good in my hand. You helped me stretch my boundaries. Just remember to drink more water. Your urine smells terrible." We both laughed.

He held out his hand and I took it, letting him guide me back to my bedroom. It felt good.

Once inside, Master Gordon picked up the bottle of nail polish and shook it. He dragged the table closer to the bed, pulled the chair up and sat down.

"Have a seat and pull your feet up."

I sat on the bed in front of him and put my feet on the edge of the bed in front of him, propping myself up so I could watch him. He turned the gooseneck on the lamp so the light was focused on my feet.

"Are you comfortable like that?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Sir," I assured him, "I want to watch you working. I may pick up some tips."

He picked up my left foot and brought it to his face. I drew in my breath, waiting for the feel of his tongue, but, after inspecting the toes closely, he set it on his thigh. He saw my disappointment.

"This is serious work, Galatea. Time for fun later. By the way, my compliments to whoever does your pedicures."

"Thank you, Sir. I've been going to her for years. If men knew how relaxing a good pedicure is, they'd be lining up to get them."

He put some cotton balls between my toes.

"You're right about that, but don't tell them. The ladies will just jack up their prices. Did anyone tell you're looking exceptionally scrumptious today? That shade of pink looks good on you: sexy but not bubble gum."

"Thank you, Sir," I blushed, "You know how to turn a girl's head. Did you pick out the nail polish?"

He started to apply the polish to the pinky toe.

"Actually, it was Phil who got it. I showed him a picture of the loungewear we bought for you and he selected the shoes and polish. He has excellent taste in these matters."

"So I see, Sir. I'll have to thank him the next time I see him."

"He'd like that. He was quite impressed with you when you were in his store."

"I don't know why. I'm nothing to write home about."

"That shows how little taste you actually have, girl. Phil is quite the leg man, and he thinks you have some of the best legs and feet he's seen on a man. I agree: they're quite kissable."

"Now you're making my crotch throb," I complained insincerely. "Are you trying to squeeze my little clitty to death?"

"Not to death, just to discomfort. You're cute when you're uncomfortable."

"Are all my Masters so sadistic?"

"Of course we are, especially Pete. He'll put you through your paces if he gets a chance."

"Hmm," I licked my lips, "I'll keep that in mind. That sounds yummy."

"Well, if that's your thing, I have a few ideas for tormenting these luscious toes."

"Oh, yes, please, Master Gordon," I purred.

He put my foot back on the bed and started with the right foot. He painted my nails slowly and carefully, never taking his eyes off them even during our conversation. He was average looking, at best, but, as I watched him working, the familiar glow started to infuse me. I was a lucky lady, indeed.

"I promised Phil I'd give him a picture of your feet wearing the shoes. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Sir. Feel free to send him all the pictures you want of me, as long as they don't show my face. After all, he's not only a dear, he was my protector. How did you meet him?"

He smiled. "We met in a FetLife group. We discovered our common interests and struck up an online acquaintance. When we set up your shopping trip, I told him about you and he insisted we come to his store. He has an eye for footwear... and for sexy ladies," he added, looking up at me. "Especially those with slutty feet."

I blushed, remembering giving the foot job I had given Phil in the store and the thrill I had watching his sperm soaking through his pants onto my feet. The look of joy on his face had not only given me satisfaction: it showed I was desirable and desired.

"With that pretty polish and those sexy shoes, you're corrupting my feet, Sir. Who knows into what kind of debauchery they'll sink?"

"The worst kind, I hope," he replied. "There, we're finished. It's a quick drying polish, but keep the spacers in place: I don't want you smudging my handiwork."

I wiggled my toes and smiled at how demurely sensual they looked; I thanked Phil for having chosen exactly the right shade for me. Red would have made me look like a slut; hot pink was for sissies. This dark pink was sultry and sexy, but not blatant, unlike the red light district currently plugging my pussy and preparing it for my Masters.

Master Gordon turned the chair around to the desk and lifted me by my hands from the bed. I looked up into his eyes and saw so much kindness, so much wisdom that my own eyes started to water.

"Are you all right, Galatea?"

"Oh, yes, Sir... I just never noticed how wonderful you are." Where is this coming from? I'm turning into an emotional mess... the lack of food must be affecting my mind.

Now it was his turn to blush and drop his eyes, though he squeezed my hands possessively. He opened his lips and leaned toward me. He's going to kiss me.. oh, God, he's going to kiss me. Yes, here are my lips... suck out my soul, please...

To my surprise and disappointment, he changed direction and planted a brotherly kiss on my forehead. He seemed confused. No! Not like that... why won't you take what's yours? Are you afraid of me? Or are you just afraid of kissing men?

"It will take a few minutes for the polish to dry. You sit there and relax. I'm going to check on things downstairs and come back to finish up. Don't go away." And he was out of the door, leaving me as confused as he appeared to be. I sat down and tried to sort through my feelings.

I had come perilously close to losing control more than once, and over what? Not getting a full blown French kiss from the man who had made me hold his cock while he was peeing?

The cage: it had to be the chastity I had been in for the last few days; that and the lack of solid nourishment were clouding my judgment and making me extra horny. That was all...

Don't be an ass. You're still trying to think like Soma, but you're not Soma any more: you're Galatea. She's not what you expected? Too bad... you wanted to unleash your inner feminine... you wanted to be owned by Masters who would guide you... congratulations, you poor sap: you finally got what you asked for.

These men care about you... they like you for who you are, not in spite of who you are. Hell, some of them may even love you. Does that scare you? It should. You just wanted to be used by a man, not get romantically entangled? That may have been what Soma wanted, but what about Galatea? You thought you could control her once you let her see the possibilities? That's not how it works...

... and, no, you can't put her back in the bottle, like a genie. Feel that glow when you think of your Masters? Remember your heart beating faster when you felt their lips on yours? Even now, with all the fear and confusion in your mind, the glow is there and even the pain of your clitoris trying to swell out of its cage is giving you joy. You can't go back.

And I knew that was right. Something had changed in me, or perhaps it was simply my true self coming forth. I was in over my head and I knew it. But a strange thing was happening: instead of the expected panic attack, a sense of calm was growing.

This was what it felt like not to be in control. I had ceded control of myself to my Masters when I entered Master Fred's house this morning. I trusted them completely and they had repaid that trust with their own devotion to me. I was their slave, but they were just as tightly bound to me.

I finished off the bottle of water and sat thoughtfully, unconsciously squirming to give the plug more opportunities to have its way with me.

"Something wrong with the chair, Galatea? Is your plug giving you trouble?" How long had Master Gordon been standing in the doorway, watching? He came in, carrying a small footstool, which he set in front of me.

"Not at all, Sir," I replied, blushing again.

"Why are you blushing? Were you touching yourself?"

"Oh, no, Sir, I wouldn't disobey you like that."

"Of course you wouldn't. Now, let's get your fingers all pretty."

He sat on the stool and put my foot in his lap. After checking out the polish, he removed the cotton spacers. I wiggled my toes in appreciation. The polish really made my feet pop.

"They're beautiful, Sir. Thank you. I can't wait to see how they look in my slippers."

"Neither can I, princess, but I think we should give the polish a little bit longer to set. When I finish with your fingernails, you can put them on."

He took my hands in his, lightly kissing each finger and running his own rough fingers over my palm.

"You take good care of your hands. I love how soft and smooth they are."

"Thank you, Sir. I've been using moisturizer on them. I'm glad they please you."

He opened the polish and began to work on my nails.

"I was wondering, Sir. Why did you want me to hold you while you were urinating? Is that one of your kinks?"

"Not at all, Galatea. In fact, that was the first time I'd ever done it."

"Then why did you want to do it?"

The brush paused over my finger. I saw his eyes lose focus, lost in thought. I knew better than to speak, or to move. I waited.

"First, I wondered what all the fuss was about in the porn I had read describing it. It seemed to be a standard form of a man demonstrating his domination of a sub. I wondered how it would make me feel."

"And how did it make you feel, Sir?"

"Strange. I loved feeling your fingers on my cock, and watching you steer my urine was a bit of a rush. But that wasn't why I did it."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because you needed it."

My voice was slightly incredulous. "I needed it, Sir? I needed to hold you while you were urinating?"

"Jim told me about your urine drinking experiment this morning..."

"He told you that?"

"We don't keep secrets from each other, Galatea. When Jim was pitching the idea of us taking on a joint slave, we talked about the ramifications of such an arrangement."

"Ramifications, Sir?"

"Emotional ramifications. Jim and Fred, in particular, had been through the wringer enough to know that in any intense sexual relationship with a Master/slave dynamic thrown in, some degree of emotional attachment was inevitable. They also knew that there could be no room for jealousy among us. We would own you jointly and no one of us could make a claim on you apart from the others. Open, honest and complete communication would be the only way for this to work long term. That includes communicating clearly with you what our expectations are."

"That makes sense, Sir," I said grudgingly. "but what does it have to do with my bathroom attendant routine?"

"Each of us has our own... proclivities when it comes to how we want you to service us. While we respect your limits, you must also understand that, over time, we intend to push those as we mold you in our collective image. There are certain things that some of us will require of you and we need to know you'll be willing to do them, even if you don't particularly enjoy them... especially if you don't enjoy them. You're going to have to stop getting grossed out over some things, not all at once, but over time. And we need to know you're willing to do so."

"So that's why Master Jim made me sip his urine? And why you watched me on the toilet? And holding your penis: it wasn't about holding it, it was about me watching you urinate up close and personal, wasn't it?"

"You're very perceptive, Galatea, one reason we cherish you. And before you take it further, no, we're not going to make you drink anyone's urines or eat a turd. That would be potentially health threatening and that is a hard limit we'll never break. However..."

"However, Sir?"

"One of your expected services will be to worship and pleasure whatever part of our bodies we choose. If one of us tells you to bathe him, afterwards you will be expected to use your tongue anywhere he tells you, without hesitation and with enthusiasm. If you miss a spot while washing us, that is your problem, not ours."

"That seems fair, Sir. When you say 'anywhere,' that means...?"

"That means anywhere; don't get stupid. Ass, armpits, ears, feet... especially feet... anywhere."

"And if I haven't bathed you?"

"Then you'll have to trust us. Fred was very clear about you understanding this: we won't threaten your health, but that doesn't mean we won't kowtow to your neuroses."

"Sir?"

"You may not like the way something smells or tastes, but that doesn't give you the right to refuse to smell it or taste it. Asses will be squeaky clean before you're asked to pleasure them. As for other things: you may not enjoy licking my feet when I get off work, but if decide I want you to give my toes a tongue bath, you'll give them a tongue bath. You won't have to like it, my feet can get pretty pungent, but you will have to do it. You won't have to drink our urine, but if one of us decides he was to take a piss on your body, you'll accept it. Is that clear?"

I took a deep breath. There it is... am I really prepared to do all those disgusting things? Have I misjudge my Masters? Do they really want to degrade me like that? I don't mind licking Master Gordon's toes, but taking a hot, sweaty, smelly foot and licking it? Can I degrade myself in that manner?

Wait a minute... why am I calling it degrading and disgusting? What did Master Gordon call it? Pleasuring their bodies. Am I calling their bodies disgusting? Am I degrading myself by licking an ass or an armpit? In whose eyes? Not my Masters', only mine...

... and where did that come from? Why do I have a morbid revulsion toward anything that comes from a human body? Why does the smell of healthy sweat make me gag? Why can't I abide the taste of my own sperm? So maybe I'm messed up that way, but what's the problem with that?

Now I'm being really stupid. I know what the problem is: it's not what my Masters want for me. Just because I've always been that way doesn't mean it's good. I might as well face it: I've lived my life afraid of the flesh in all its glory. I've been so worried about doing something wrong, of being called a pervert, that I've hidden behind walls of guilt, shame and false dignity.

But, what if my Masters want something better for me? What if they want to mold Galatea into someone who not only will serve and please them, but someone who will claim and revel in her own body and sensuality? Could it be my Masters love me more than I love myself?

Damn it! That's what this is really all about, isn't it? They're purging Soma, chipping away at his insecurities and the walls that are holding him back. Look at everything they've done... look at this week. If all they wanted was sex, they could have rented a good looking escort a lot cheaper than the money and effort they've put into me. Look at my shoes, my clothes, my room...

And what do they ask in return? Only that I become what they want me to be, what I really want to be, the perfect pleasure slave, finding in that my own pleasure and worth and dignity. If Master Gordon wants me to lick his smelly feet, he's not degrading me and I'm not degrading myself: he's guiding me into a world of pleasure I could never have found on my own. And how can I not love them for that?

"It's clear, Sir. I want to please you in every way possible, because I know that, in pleasing you, you're raising me to heights I've never known. And even if I don't enjoy what you want me to do, I'll still do it gladly and, with your help, will learn to love whatever pleases you and makes you happy. My Masters deserve nothing less... and neither do I," I added, finally getting it. "Thank you for the lessons you've taught me and the lessons still to come. I am proud to call you my Masters... I'm proud to call you Master Gordon, and I'm proud to be your Galatea."

"Damn, girl, you're going to make me cry."

"Then kiss me, Master Gordon... kiss me like you're claiming me, body and soul... kiss me and make me swoon."

He did. And I did.

Coming up: The party begins and Galatea is introduced to the Fibonacci Defloration