Stop Enslaving My Friends! Pt. 04

=/= Stop Enslaving My Friends! Chapter 4 =/=

Kimberly did not consider herself to be a good cook. She did not have a large range of dishes that she was confident in making, and had to check recipes frequently even for simple meals. She had found, somewhat to her own surprise that she enjoyed cooking food for her master and the girls. She wasn't entirely sure whether it was something she would have enjoyed if she hadn't become a slave, perhaps the feeling of subservience was what had pushed it over the top from something she did sometimes to survive into something she got pleasure doing. But regardless of whether it would have been like that if she hadn't been enslaved, feeding her master and her sister slaves brought her real joy. And prancing around in a naked apron to make the blueberry pancakes was pretty fun too.

"It ain't right," Kendra objected, "Katy gettin' pan-cakes. They is for Master and his slaves." She harrumphed and gestured at the woman in question, and then at the pancakes on Katy's plate. "I love Katy, she is fam, but she ain't one of Master Kyle's slaves is she? C'mon y'all, what are we doin here?" She made an expansive gesture at the rest of the women.

Kinsley shook her head. "Katy's joining us, obviously. The torrential river of time spares scarcely an eddy for one person's resistance. She will submit, eventually, because the future extends without pity and her resolve is finite and human. When she eats food crafted for his slaves now, it just means that Master has a reason to punish her later." The pale skinned woman got a dreamy look in her eyes. "Yes, our Master can extract payment for the blueberry pancakes she partook of afore she was worthy of them. She could face restitution in the form of tortuous agony, as she pays with her body again and again. Every pancake a justification for Master to slake his lust and his wrath." The other women nodded, as if Kinsley's tirade had made any fucking sense at all.

"What is wrong with you, Kinsley?" It was a question that perhaps anyone familiar with the situation might have asked, but factually it was asked by Katy. "Kyle isn't going to do any of that!"

"Any of what?" Kyle asked, as he walked into the dining room. He had been the last to awaken, as none of the women had wanted to wake him. By the time he came downstairs, breakfast was in full swing. The Independent logo on his t-shirt might have been thought to be portentous, but he had literally just grabbed it from the top of his drawer.

Kaitlin stood and gave him a slight bow. "Master, Kimberly has been preparing blueberry pancakes. We have been distributing them on a first in, first out basis such that we have maintained a reserve of the hottest, freshest pancakes for your own plate." She pulled back his chair and bowed again.

Kyle took a seat and a plate of pancakes. There were several condiments available, but he went straight for the butter, syrup, and grape jelly. Everyone was watching him as he started dressing up his breakfast. "I mean, when I came in, it sounded like you were having an argument about me. What was that about?" He actually had a pretty good guess what it was about in the grand scheme of things, but the specifics eluded him.

All eyes turned to Katy and she nearly caught fire in the intensity of the stares. "It's just... Kimberly made pancakes, and they were saying you wouldn't let me have any!"

He waited a few breaths, at first thinking that someone was going to give additional explanation, and then he waited a few more because he just didn't even know how to begin answering. "Um," he said to buy himself additional time, "wouldn't that be up to Kimberly?" From the facial expressions of every woman at the table it was clear that he had not given the correct answer, and he felt very lost.

Kimberly flounced in wearing nothing but an apron and a smile. "I made pancakes for my Master," she explained, "so naturally if you wanted to withhold your pancakes from anyone, whether they were your slave yet or not, it would be your choice and not mine." She smiled and gave a twirl that almost caused her breasts to escape her apron. It definitely caused her butt to escape the apron, because there wasn't anything on her backside except the bows holding the apron onto the front.

After spending a moment to appreciate Kimberly's second offering of the morning, he turned to his sister. "OK, Katy. If our positions were reversed, and you were in charge, would you let me eat the pancakes that Kimberly made?" He waited with a stern patience.

"I... I..." She couldn't bring herself to complete a reply. They both knew the answer. There'd even been more than one time that she'd had a meal with the girls and pointedly excluded him. A reel spun in her brain of times she'd told him that food wasn't for him. Pizza. Thai food. Nachos. Chinese. And the cakes! How many cakes had she told him that he didn't get a piece of? Six? She couldn't even remember them all. Katy was breathing fast, she knew she'd been caught.

He shook his head. "Of course you can eat Kimberly's pancakes." She seemed perplexed, but relieved. "Just remember: it's better for you that I'm in charge than vice versa." He rolled his eyes and began cutting up his pancake into forkable chunks.

His sister was about to silently dig into her own food when Kendra brought her up short. "Ah ah ah Katy! Master told you what you need to remember. Now say it!" Her expression brooked no argument.

Katy looked to be having a fierce internal struggle, but ultimately hunger won out. "Yes, Kyle. It's better for me if you're in charge." After she said it, she seemed smaller, more relaxed.

"Thank you!" Kendra said with real satisfaction. "Now you can sit down and eat your food."

Everyone ate in silence for a few mouthfuls until something that had been bothering Kyle bubbled to the surface. "Kaitlin, did you bow to me?" His piece of pancake dripped syrup onto his fork as it stayed in a holding pattern. He didn't complete its journey into his mouth lest he be called upon to reply to her answer or have a hilarious spit take if her answer was sufficiently unhinged.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes I did, Master. I was thinking that as your only Asian sex slave, that I should provide you more of an Asian sex slave user experience." Kaitlin sat in a weird angle on her chair, making her look more delicate and aloof. She kind of looked like someone in a creepy ad for Asian mail order brides, and Kyle had a horrible suspicion that this was deliberate.

He coughed, and he was very glad that he didn't have food in his mouth during her explanation. "Please, don't ever say anything like that in public. Or at all, really." His brow furrowed, and Kaitlin looked worried. "Kaitlin, you're not the Yellow Ranger or whatever. You don't need to be The Asian One, you're just Kaitlin. I know you are Asian, and I don't want to take that away from you. But don't act like a stereotype just to try to turn me on. It's weird and it makes me uncomfortable. You're plenty hot without any of that." He felt like he was rambling.

Kaitlin smiled in relief. "Thank you for your praise, Master. Does this mean you want your morning blow job now?" The eagerness of the question was unfeigned and undisguised.

Gesturing with his forkful of pancake at his sister, Kyle continued to be happy with his choice to have not put things into his mouth while the Chinese American woman continued to say surprising things. "My sister! She's right there!" He declared inarticulately.

The first of his slaves to attempt to mollify him was Kinsley. "Don't worry, Master. Kaitlin will be under the table, so it should be fine. Katy knows that if she peeks under the table at your magnificent cock, that the dominoes will fall until she is a slave. She'll see it and her greedy submissive pussy won't let her turn away, won't let her run away, won't let her do anything but kiss your subjugating rod and accept her place as a face fuckable toy for you. She knows that once your powerful jizz goes into her mouth that it will paint her mind and her soul, that her pathetic pussy will be able to do nothing but to juice up and spread itself in surrender to your conquering bitch tamer. So it's fine, right? All she has to do is avoid giving One. Little. Peak. Under that table to see your beautiful, perfect, dominating cock that all her friends love so much, and she won't become one of your owned pussies, will she?" The brown haired woman grinned and looked intensely at both siblings.

"I don't... I'm not... what?" Kyle sputtered nonsensically.

Kaitlin smoothly slid under the table. He couldn't see her, but he could feel the soft touch of her small hands on his Ben Davis pants. "It's true," she said from under the table, "it's very easy to avoid becoming Master Kyle's slave. When I release his pole so it can dominate my mouth and throat, just don't look under the table." Everyone at the table heard the zipper, but only Kyle and Kaitlin felt it open. "Oh." Kaitlin said breathily. "It's just as impressive as the very first time. Looking at it, I know that the owner of this cock owns me. Mmmm. It tastes so good, you know that Katy? Your brother's cock is so powerful that it dominated me the very first time I saw it. It's still dominating me now. I couldn't stand against it, none of us could. Now I'm kneeling before Master Kyle, kissing his penis and preparing him to fuck my face. He can cum so many times, he keeps us all more than satisfied. When he conquers more bitches, they will all have their slave pussies fucked into contentment. All you have to do is keep your eyes over the table, Katy. If they stay above the table you won't crawl over to Master Kyle's cock and kneel next to me while he fucks our faces and cums down our slave throats." Kyle had had enough of her narration, and one of his hands joined her below the table. "Shlrp. Gluk. Gluk Gluk. Gluk. Gluk. Gluk." It wasn't hard to guess what Kaitlin was doing under the table.

"Why do you let him do this to you?" Katy implored. "It's Kyle. You're all really hot. Even if you wanted to get laid, even if you wanted to fuck Kyle for some reasons, you could just be hot at him. You don't have to do any of this, he'd just fuck you if you let him." Katy was near tears.

Coming back with more pancakes, Kimberly answered. "I tried that. But... it's better for us when he's in charge." The blueberry pancakes were partially from a mix, she'd basically just added blueberries and milk to the stuff in the bag. Even so, they were fluffy and delicious.

=/=

"Master," Kinsley began her inquiry, "is it time for me to be manacled?" The elegant brunette batted her eyelashes like she was seducing for a favor.

Kyle looked from Kinsley to Kimberly and back again. "Why would it be time for you to be manacled?" He wasn't sure if she was supposed to be being punished for something or if she just wanted it to be a scheduled occurrence.

Whipping out her phone, Kimberly jumped in on the action. "Oh, if it is, this would be a great time for Master to select more positions for us!" She brought up an image of Kendra standing. Then she showed another picture of Kendra standing.

Temporarily ignoring the Kinsley situation, Kyle had new questions. "Both of those are just Kendra standing there, doing nothing. Am I missing something?" There was a creeping dread as he surmised that there absolutely was, and he wasn't going to like it.

"Standing positions are important for slaves," Kimberly claimed, prompting Kyle to wonder how she could possibly know that, "they are orders that can be followed anywhere without filthing our clothes or subjecting the Master to undue scrutiny. Look at this:" Her phone showed a picture of Kendra standing with her hands down at her sides. "If she stood like this because she was following your commands, every moment would be like hammering a nail into the walls around her heart." The curly-haired woman was practically vibrating with emotion, fear and pride and lust all coiled like a compressed spring.

Before Kyle could get a word in to question what she was talking about, Kinsley jumped in to provide further context. "Any of us could be afoot in such a disposition by happenstance alone. Following the Will of Master Kyle made known, the orientation takes significance: the implication of obedience. Once we've cognicized our subjugation, the performance of fealty becomes a ritual act that promulgates our submission." The slender woman smiled as if she had just cleared everything up.

"... what?"

Kimberly's kissable lips moved as close to his ear as her tippy toes could bring them. ""It means that following orders from you is So. Fucking. Hot. We're your slaves all the time, but when you tell us to do something and we do it, it's like you're fucking dominating us." The blond woman sighed, as if her imagination had sent her on a vacation that was sadly nearly finished.

It was a heavy responsibility. "So you want something easy to do," he said, trying to work through what they were asking, "and potentially easy to explain away if you get caught doing it by people who weren't part of... all this." He pondered some more. "And safe. Not standing on one foot or leaning off to the side where you could fall down. But also you want it to be distinct enough that you will be able to see when one of the other women is doing it. Is that right?"

Blond and brunette nodded the nods of people who have reservations but are mostly agreeable to the proposal that has been made. "One other thing," Kinsley suggested, holding up a finger, "it should be a position you find us attractive in. When you give us your command and we acquiesce, you should see your needy slaves waiting for you to ravish them. You should arrange us as flowers to beautify your surroundings, as receptacles prepared to be permeated with your sated lusts." Kimberly gave the nod of someone who unreservedly agreed.

Swallowing hard, Kyle looked at the women for a hint that they were were pulling his leg, and of course he found nothing. "So you just... show me pictures of Kendra standing, and I tell you which one makes me want to fuck her the most?" That seemed to be what they were getting at, ridiculous as it sounded.

"Oh, we can get a better read on it than that," Kimberly decreed, reaching down into his crotch with one hand, "Master's cock should tell us what it wants." She gave his bulge a little squeeze.

It started like a trip to the eye doctor, where Kendra was pictured standing in positions that initially seemed identical to him. Hands down at her side, but on careful inspection the hands were facing forward in one picture and in toward her thighs in another. Two pictures with hands on hips, but the hands were either palm down or balled into fists. Legs together, legs apart. Legs slightly more apart... there were a lot of options, and most of them did not seem meaningfully different. "Wait," he said, as one example seemed substantively different, but also impractical, "you guys wouldn't be able to hold your hands up like that for very long." He pointed in confusion to a picture of Kendra with her hands straight above her head.

Perhaps he had expected an argument where the women explained a trick by which they could maintain extended hand raising. Instead, Kinsley agreed with a fervent intensity. "Of course not, Master!" She assured him. "Such a position would be for brief vulnerability if you wanted access to our flanks or to bind us in a hanging position. The position could also be a form of torture intrinsic to itself by demanding that we hold stressful postures beyond our capabilities. Torn between the anguish of our frail mortal forms and our need to follow our owner's commands, we would be shattered by the protest of our muscles even as we were haunted by our failure to comply with your edicts." The tale she spun had less and less to do with the task at hand, and the pale woman's eyes practically rolled into her head at the imagined tortures he might inflict upon her.

For his part, Little Kyle had lurched a bit when Kinsley's tirade had begun, but shrank away in second hand embarrassment as she continued. The idea of putting his arms around a stretching Kendra had popped into his mind unbidden, and that had had more than a bit of appeal. The idea of having the women stretch themselves to the point of discomfort and collapse had subsequently been placed into his mind, and it made him a bit nauseous. He could feel Kimberly's disappointment as his psychological unease caused him shrinkage.

The blond woman shushed the brunette, her status as girlfriend giving her some sort of leverage in such matters that Kyle did not fully understand. She drew his attention back to the phone as she cycled through a bunch more pictures. Crossed arms. Hands in prayer. Clasped fingers. Hands behind the head. Kendra really had a lot of ways to stand, she was like a regular Rory Calhoun. Some pictures Kimberly scrolled through quickly, and some she lingered on longer. Kyle started to think he was going crazy before he realized that she actually was returning to some pictures to better gauge their effects on his erection potential. "I think we have a winner," she said happily, having stopped at a picture of Kendra with her hands behind her back, "this one strengthens your manhood even on the third viewing. Tell us what you like about it, Master."

It is a strange thing to be asked by a beautiful woman to describe the ways that another woman is attractive. It is an event that in the experience of almost every man is nigh universally a trap. Kyle's first instinct was naturally to attempt to escape, and his second instinct was to deny. He didn't actually need to do either of these hings around the women who professed themselves to be his slaves, and he swallowed these quickly with only a "Look... I don't..." from his mouth to indicate that it had passed through his mind that he should do anything but own up to it. Taking a centering breath, he tried again. "She looks confident and strong in that one. And um... her tits are all out there." He still felt embarrassment when he admitted the second part, but both women nodded along like their brains were taking notes with a chisel into a stone.

Both women stood in front of him with their hands behind their back, their chests subtly emphasized. Neither was as gifted in that department as Kendra, but their bodies were things to boast about. Things they had boasted about for as long as Kyle had known them. The contours of Kimberly's bra were held firm against her tight shirt by her womanly virtues so that very little was left to the imagination. Kinsley wasn't even wearing a bra, her somewhat smaller breasts being firm and perky enough to stay where they were supposed to be even while battling gravity without backup. The pale skinned brunette's nipples were straining against her blouse, each demanding Kyle's immediate attention. And yet, the well supported globes of Kimberly's sweater puppies demanded petting as well. His concentration was divided, on the one hand her could fit most of one of Kinsley's breasts into his mouth, and on the other hand he could lose his whole face between Kimberly's mounds. It was a terrible choice to have to make, and Kyle was paralyzed by it.

"It seems that this is a good addition to our list of slave positions," Kimberly said thoughtfully, "the most important thing for a slave position is to remind our master that we are his slaves. His fuckable slaves." She smiled warmly. "You'll need to pick a name for the position. It's sometimes called the wait or stay, like for dogs, but in some slave how-tos, it's called cuffs, backhands, or ties for the bondage implications." It remained surreal to Kyle that the women would talk in such accepting tones about the possibility that he might choose to bind or torture them.

And while Kimberly's bland acceptance of the possibility was something Kyle found weird, Kinsley's barely restrained eagerness was something that he found beyond simply beyond comprehension. "We need to decide what we're doing with our hands when they are behind the back." Kinsley sagely intoned, leaving no room for argument. "If we put them back to back, they become easily cuffable. On the other hand, if we place our dominant hand underneath our non-dominant hand, we symbolize our domination by Master Kyle. On the other other hand, we could be literally restricting our own movement by clasping our fingers or holding our hands or wrapping our thumbs or..." It seemed Kinsley had a lot of ideas for how her fingers or wrists could be restricted behind her back.

"Doesn't Bide and Wait mean the same thing?" Kyle asked, having not really gotten past the first offered command word. "Both mean to delay, right? I guess even table can mean that, if you're like tabling a proposal or some shit. Is it really OK for all the positions to be named the same thing? Or even just basically the same thing?" His brow furrowed.

"The positional commands are all basically the same thing," Kimberly admitted, "you tell us to assume a fixed stance and then we remain in the demanded position until you let us stop. The commands are so similar in effect that apparently some slaves just have a list of numbered positions to practice." She waved her finger like she was scolding a child. "So the owner would be like 'Position Three' and the slave would then get into the third position on the list, whatever that was."

He found it to be a lot to take in. He put his own hands behind his back and tried different hand configurations on his own. "I guess you can hold your hand with your other hand," he said, considering the options and finding one he thought was comfortable enough, "that could be the name, too. Hold." He turned a one-eighty like he was flipping his board so that he could show the women what he was talking about.

At least one of the women seemed to find it pretty dubious. "Well, OK Master," Kinsley guardedly agreed, "but we have to clasp the non-dominant hand on top, the hand held by the dominant and also displaying the non-dominant to our owner. You might think it's subtle, but when we're performing non-symmetric postures we need the irregularities to remind us of out status as slaves." She pleaded at him intensely with her eyes.

For his part, Kyle didn't really care which hand went on top and he was happy to let Kinsley have whatever symbolism she wanted. "OK, fine. Do it that way. Now Kinsley, Hold." She stood and brought her arms behind her back. It pushed her modest breasts forward and gave her a serene, relaxed appearance. The entire position was a contradiction, he was pretty sure that he liked it because the women looked strong and confident, and yet they were quite literally adopting the posture at his command to show their loyalty and enslavement.

"Master," Kinsley asked, careful to keep her face pointed straight ahead, "the manacles will fit on my wrists while I'm in this position." The skinny woman had almost universally maintained an air of detached indifference around him since he was a freshman in high-school. As long as he'd been aware that she hung out with his sister, she had always looked down on him, speaking to him as a princess speaks to a valet if she deigned to speak to him at all. Seeing her undisguised pleading for him for him to bind and dominate her was disorienting.

He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to give in on that point or not, but he did relent. "Alright Kinsley, I can cuff you. Kimberly," he grinned at his girlfriend, "go get those manacles. I'm going to bind my slave."

"Yes, Master." Kimberly sprinted out of the room like a rabbit that had been noticed by a dog. She returned quickly with the manacles that Kinsley's mother had given him. Kimberly looked like she was bringing in a birthday cake. Care with each step, but inundated with joy and anticipation. She hadn't burt into song, but only because 'happy manacle day to you' didn't quite work.

The black leather of the cuffs went over Kinsley's wrists easily enough, the chain between rattling throughout the process. When the latch was pushed through, it made a ka-chunk sound that gave the impression that a much weightier set of restraints had been placed upon her. Kinsley shuddered and let out a moan of surrender. The length of chain between the cuffs allowed for much more distance between her wrists than the hold position did, the shackles in her mind were much more restrictive than the shackles on her arms.

Looking at her brown pleated skirt, Kyle realized that he didn't really know how to take it down. As was usually the case, Kinsley's clothing would be better suited to working in an office or a library than mewling for cock in a skater's house, but she was absolutely living out the latter option regardless. "Kimberly, can you help me get her skirt off?" As it happened, she could. The waistband turned out to be like a built-in belt where the strap wrapped around and snapped on. It presumably gave more support to make the belly disappear. Kyle had no idea why Kinsley in particular would think she needed such things, as she already ran the edge of slenderness where it threatened to be unhealthy looking rather than elegant. Once it cleared her narrow hips, there was nothing to stop the skirt from tumbling to the ground and bunching at her feet. On the floor, it looked like a hotel table setting.

The dark green lace undergarment was French cut, which left the marble columns of her thighs almost completely exposed. The tanned skin of Kimberly was well contrasted against Kinsley's pale flesh as she reached around to pull the lace panties to the side. Despite even more of Kinsley being exposed, she didn't neglect her duty, she remained in her slave position even as her moist pussy lips came into view. "She's ready Master," Kimberly breathily spoke words that were directed as much to Kinsley as to Kyle, "Kinsley's pussy is Master's fuck hole."

Unzipping his fly, the hole filler in question sprung to attention. He looked at the anxious woman and realized that she was still following orders that involved standing in place. She looked down at his crotch in desperation, but did not abandon the posiion she had been ordered to maintain. "OK, Kinsley," he said mercifully, "you can stop Holding. Get on my dick."

Everything about her relaxed. "Oh, thank you, Master." She sighed, and then with her hands still chained together behind her back, she straddled Kyle's lap. Without even being asked, Kimberly helped line Kinsley's gash up with Kyle's gash filler. Once the manacled woman had begun to be impaled, she was able to slide the rest of the way down herself. "Aaaaah..." She groaned as she pushed herself down onto her owner's phallus. Kinsley stopped with her taint resting on his nutsack, luxuriating in fulfillment. Breathing deeply, she probably would have been content to simply remain there with his penis engulfed in her abyss, but neither Kyle nor Kimberly were having any of it. Hands grasped her hips, her butt, her waist. The hands groped and tickled, but they also raised her up and slammed her down. "Oh! Oooooh!" Kinsley hooted incoherently as she moved along the shaft.

The core experience of a relativistic universe is that it simply doesn't matter whether the observer or the observed are moving, only the total relative movement between them. Such physical presentations weren't relevant in the quantum eternities of the Great Abyss of course, but at the scales present in Katy's house, those equations held. Kinsley couldn't tell whether she was being pushed down onto her Master's cock or his hips were thrusting his manhood up into her. For the purposes of her rapidly approaching orgasm, it didn't matter. Whether the orgasm had come to her or she had gone to the orgasm, the reality was that they had come together. She came hard, and she collapsed with her fuck-drunk face coming to rest against Kyle's broad chest. And it would remain at rest there until acted on by an external force. The physics of it were barbaric in their simplicity. A human-imposed approximation that left her rumpled in her master's grasp. But in her friend's house, on her master's lap, such crude descriptions held true enough.

=/=

Having blown his load into two women and worked up quite a bit of sweat, he decided that he absolutely needed to take a shower before he could meet up with Pedro. It was probably fine, Pedro had no problem sleeping in until ten or eleven during the summer, so he'd be chill about meeting for lunch around three. Stepping into the bathroom, he was baffled by the hygiene and beauty products that had accumulated in the short time since he had acquired a harem of sex slaves.

Kyle did not know what the difference was between shower gel and body wash. He did not think he would be able to correctly identify the answer on a multiple choice exam. And since the women had started smuggling additional bottles into the bathroom he was now confronted with many products whose meaning he could not immediately identify. And now, when his gaze took in the sink it also fell upon a squirt bottle of scalp spritz that had not been there before. Its existence raised many questions that he couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around. How was it used? Did it replace shampoo? Conditioner? Some kind of styling gel? Why was it scalp spritz instead of hair spritz? A vista of possibility extended in all directions and he felt his significance vanish into a speck that was itself lost in the aisles that contained hair products that could not be contained in the aisle formally marked as displaying shampoo. This was a truth that was beyond mere bed or bath, a hint of a beauty regimen that Kyle did not, could not understand. A beauty regimen that did not require his approval or even understanding.

The bathroom door opened and closed. Kyle's mind had not finished reeling from the fall down the rabbit hole that had been precipitated by his discovery of new cleanser technology. "I see you noticed my scalp spritz," Kendra's voice shocked him out of his reverie, "I heard that you were getting ready for a shower, so I came to help clean you." Only after turning to her did Kyle realize she was wearing a bath robe and her luxurious braids were stuffed into a swim cap. It gave the impression that she had a pink mushroom growing out of her head rather than hair.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asked. He looked down and up her body with confusion, but also a bit of erotic hunger. Even dressed as she was, the hints of Kendra's killer figure were still hard to ignore. The curves defined how the robe was able to fall from her shoulders, and that definition was pleasing to the eye.

There had been a time in her life when Kendra would have spoken words of acid were she to note Kyle's gaze lingering to ogle her breasts. She had the largest breasts in her friend group, and she had developed a strong sense from when rubber neckers were tracing the blessings of her chest with their eyes. Since she had accepted Kyle as her owner, she no longer felt offended when she felt him appraising her. It was no longer an opportunity to spit fire, but an opportunity to inflame her master's passions. "Oh, this ole thing?" She gestured at the robe, or perhaps at her titflesh that was barely contained by the robe. "It's just, Katy was on her whole 'wearin clothes' thing, and I did not have the headspace to argue with her. Now we together, I don't need it." She shrugged her shoulders in a manner that allowed the robe to begin sliding down her back, the opening in the front revealing more and more of what Kendra had to reveal until it fell off completely. Kyle's attentions were momentarily completely monopolized by the dark circles around her nipples and the firm breasts that held them. "Once you put her in her place, she won't be chatterboxing about that at all." Kyle was too distracted by Kendra's newly revealed body to notice what she had suggested he do with his sister.

He inspected the goods, and found them very good indeed. Kendra was a big girl, not in the euphemistic sense of trying to be polite while calling someone fat, but in the sense that she was closer to Kyle's height than to Kaitlin's. His eyes traced along her body, noting the smooth curves of her hips, the tightness of her waist that created a pleasing hourglass when it met her prodigious boobs. When his eyes came up to her face, he remembered what answers he had wanted before. "I mean, the thing on your head. Why are you wearing that? And um... what is it?" It was the first time he'd shared a bathroom with Kendra, and it seemed there were unknown unknowns: things he did not know that he did not know.

Still naked from the neck down, Kendra's eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh, this thing? My braids are in a silk bag, and that bag is in a swim cap. It's so that I git in the shower with you without getting my hair wet." Her fingers went to work removing his clothing. He was going into the shower without anything on anything, so Kendra didn't have to worry about taking too much off of him.

A shower was, in Kyle's opinion, a place where hair getting wet was normal and expected. His own hair care routine involved throwing a bit of shampoo into his hair pretty much every day. With physical exertion, his hair got a bit sweaty, so doing a bit of a hair wash was simply a daily occurrence for him. He'd never understood his sister's scheduled hair washes. Both in terms of how big of a production it seemed, and in how she could go so long without doing it. His own hair washing was daily, but it also took only a few seconds longer than washing his hands. "Wait," he said, a creeping unease beginning to take form, "do you not wash your hair?" He'd always admired Kendra's long box braids, but he actually had no idea what went in to forming or maintaining them.

His question probably would have found a reply made of weaponized sarcasm had he asked it a week before, but his new relationship with Kendra ensured that she found the humor in it. "Nah, Master. I wash my hair all the time. My hair game is strong A-F, so of course I wash it." Her playful declaration brought color to Kyle's cheeks, delivering him the inescapable feeling that he had asked a question that was profoundly ignorant and also possibly stupid. She didn't seem to mind as she ushered him into the shower. The water sprayed both of their bodies, and she squirted a big glob of shower gel between her breasts. "When my braids get wet, they get heavy. If I leave them like that they pull out on my scalp. It hurts and the braids come undone. So if I'm finna give you an extended tit wash, I gotsta keep my hair dry." She pressed her chest onto his body, the boobs sliding easily because of the lather that was forming between them.

Understanding that he probably sounded as out of his depth as he felt, he pressed on and asked whatever fool thing that came through his head. "Couldn't you just blow dry your hair afterward."

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Kendra asked incredulously. "No, I suppose you just don't know, do you? Well Master, if Katy never tells you this, I suppose I gotta clean up her mess just like I gotta clean up your dick." Her plan of cock cleaning appeared to involve placing his length between her mounds and then painting the soapy bubbles along it by sliding her chest up and down. It wasn't a very efficient means to clean his pole, but it was very effective at encouraging his erection to return to full power. "If I was to blow dry my hair, it gets more frazz, and if it gets enough frazz some of the hair nopes out of the braids. That makes the braids messy and then I have to get 'em respun. As is, I need to get the turns taken out and rebraided every forty days or so. So when I wash my braids, I also gotsta be prepared to condition them all and then press them dry. It's a lot of work, and it ain't exactly cheap." Her hand took its place on his shaft and guided him to paint her chest as her chest was painting him.

Looking down at her head was slightly strange when it was covered by a bulbous swim cap, but looking even farther down to her nipples rubbing against him was even stranger. Not unwelcome by any means, but just absolutely not something he would have even believed was a possibility just a short time ago. "That sounds like a full time job." Kyle said sympathetically, while his cockhead drew soap doodles on Kendra's clavicle and neck.

"It ain't a full time job," Kendra conceded, "but like... I go to the gym, I get my nails done, I do my own makeup most the time, I get the lawn and hedges zapped out, it all adds up. A typical week sees me spend twenty six hours on my figure, my hair, my face, my nails, and my... total package. And I am a total package, I am a hawt piece of ass, and now that you own me, that's all for you." She looked happy about it, and gave his penis a quick kiss to show her sincerity.

More than a full day out of every week. He had to admit that the results were impressive, Kendra had been one of the sexiest people he'd known from the moment she'd come into his life. It was a distinction shared by his sister's other close friends, which presumably meant that they all spent similarly ridiculous amounts of time achieving the beauty that seemed so effortless and intrinsic to them. Thinking back to all the times he'd noted Katy taking forever to get ready for things, he realized that Kendra's admission of the time involved really should not have surprised him at all. "Do you want to stop?" He asked with real concern, not knowing what he thought the answer should be.

The water continued cascading over the two of them, so when Kendra shook her head the little water droplets went everywhere. Not as much of a sudden shower as it would have been if the water had gotten into her braids, but plenty to send soap and water all over the shower curtain. "Master, I have always stayed on my A-game, and my hair and skin are consistently bomb-ass. Black don't crack. Now that you is my Master, I don't wanna let the side down, ya know? People see me as your slave, and that reflects on you. They see a slave who has it going on, they'll think you a proper dicty Master. Hawt bitches be like, 'maybe he should be my master,' ya know? If anything, we was thinkin of putting even more work into our threads, our makeup, our... total package. Really represent. Swaggericiously, so that your slaves be somethin to holla at."

"Whoa," the weight of what she was saying really hit him, and he felt guilty, "you don't have to... I'm not saying you can't... oh, fuck. I appreciate the effort, really." He wondered what Kassidy and Khloe would look like if they spent one day in seven beautifying themselves. Probably pretty good. Although since they were counting gym time and exercise, he suspected the two sporty women were probably pretty close to that already. Khloe's colored hair streaks weren't anything close to the hair management nightmare that Kendra had described, but she worked out kind of a lot. He pushed such thoughts away to concentrate on the matter at hand. "I want you to be happy." He could tell she was about to say something weird and sex-slavey, so he cut her off. "I don't just mean getting happy by serving me or some crazy sex slave logic, I want you to be happy for yourself. That would make me happy. So you can keep doing..." he waved his hand around in a general all encompassing fashion, "whatever it is that makes you look good, but only as long as you feel good about it. Kinsley's always talking about getting me to torture you guys, but that's just a hard NO, OK?"

Behind her dark eyes and beneath her water repellent cap, gears were turning. "So we can make ourselves as pretty as we want, so long as we like doin it?" She batted her pretty eyelashes, which stayed surprisingly lush even in the shower. Kyle was vaguely aware that there were different kinds of mascara, though it had never really occurred to him to wonder if some of them were waterproof. Obviously, Kendra had some that was.

The attentions of a beautiful woman were having their intended effect, and Kyle's little head was doing enough thinking that he pushed such thoughts from his mind. The questions of how much beautification time needed to be encouraged, required, or restricted was obviously a complex one that he needed to have a serious discussion with the women as a group. And preferably not at a time when his hips were involuntarily twitching to push his straining cock into a gorgeous woman's breasts. He had Kendra rise up and turn her back to him. Then he gently pushed her against the wall of the shower stall.

Kendra was proud of her booty, and Kyle agreed that she was right to be. Looking at the back of her head when she had a swim cap on was kind of weird, it made her look like an octopus. He considered pulling it off her and allowing her beautiful braids to cascade down her back. With the water already spraying everywhere, he decided against it. Instead, he closed his eyes and ran his hands up and down her body. There was no swim cap to obstruct his feel of her muscular thighs, her wide hips, or her juicy ass. Her skin was smooth and slick with water, and when he moved his fingers to her slit he discovered that she was slick with her own juices as well. There were so many parts of Kendra that his hands wanted to explore. Heavy breasts that managed to be both pliant and firm. A softness to her tummy that was just enough of a veneer over abdominal muscles to prevent it from feeling lumpy.

Tempting though it was to simply slide his hands along her supple flesh until the water turned cold, both Kyle and Kendra wanted his tab in her slot. With her breasts pushed against the wall, Kendra arched her back to raise the angle of her bubble butt. She was proud to display his mark of ownership on her butt cheek, but his attentions were drawn to a lower treasure. The gap between where her cheeks met and where her thighs met proved far too great of an incentive, and Kyle ran his cockhead up and down until he found the entrance that parted for him. Her smooth pussy lips wrapped themselves tightly around him, but he still found that he was able to slide in and out with ease. He wanted to be as far into her as possible, and only pulled back to repeat the experience of sinking himself deeper into her cunt.

"Oh yes, Master!" Kendra cried out into the wall. "Wrassle your side bitch. Skeet in me, Master. Skeet in your slave's vajayjay! Ngh! Yes! Unghk!" So turned on was she that her ramblings degenerated into grunts. He could feel her orgasmic spasms, and it spurred him on to slam into harder. By the time he squirted into her depths, Kendra was making happy gurgling sounds into the tiles.

When he shlorped out of her, a dribble of white sauce came from her gash to get lost in the suds and swirls of the shower. Kyle needed to clean up, and the shower was starting to be a bit less warm. As Kendra came around, she began cleaning him for real.

=/=

Pedro was late enough that Kyle had finished half his burrito by the time he rocked up. It was a carne asada super burrito, so even finishing half of it was quite a feat. The lifespan of a burrito could be expanded substantially by tapping a bit of salsa fresca onto the open burrito with every bite. That and unraveling only enough foil to take the next bite. It kept the burrito from falling apart. Kyle was hungry enough that he was reasonably certain he was going to finish the thing in one sitting. Kimberly was also half finished with her food, which was a feat of a different kind. She had just a single taco al pastor, and in order to still have any left she had been taking ridiculously tiny mouse nibbles. Kyle was of the belief that such food should be eaten in just a couple giant chomps. It was obvious that Kimberly felt differently.

His order secured, Pedro grabbed some salsa of his own for the chips and sat down at their table. "So I'd heard you were dating Kimberly, Holmes," Pedro said dubiously, presumably looking at the blond woman in question through the dark lenses of his glasses, "but like, you know this is a trick, right?" He looked from face to face to see if either Kyle or Kimberly were offended, but both shrugged. "How many times has she set you up just to push you down?" It was a rhetorical question, but by Kimberly's count the answer was five.

It was something that Kimberly felt genuinely bad about. Not about having pranked people in general, but specifically the number of times she had pranked Kyle. It left her feeling like her master might punish her for her transgressions against him. Punishments that he was of course allowed to inflict on her, because he owned her; but also punishments that she deserved to have inflicted on her. Kimberly had had a lot of things go poorly in the previous year and a half. She'd lost family, she'd flunked out of school, she'd moved back home and gotten a shitty job and through all of that she had never felt that she deserved any of it. But every time Kinsley waxed rhapsodic about various tortures that Kyle could inflict upon them, she found herself nodding her head. Yeah, she thought, I deserve that. She didn't want to be tortured, but part of her did want to get it over with.

Conversation had been continuing without Kimberly noticing. Realizing that some of it was directed to her, she hmmed in acknowledgment. "Sorry, I was distracted. What was that?"

By the way he sighed, it was obvious that whatever he'd just said had required a mustering of courage before Pedro had been able to put voice to the words. "I was just like, wondering if you could set me up with one of your friends. Cuz like, they are all still caliente morenas, right?" Normally Pedro considered the use of caliente to describe people and things as evidence that someone got a C in Spanish, but in this case he genuinely meant caliente. Some say the eyes are the windows of the soul, but even wearing shades his droopy dog expression left little doubt as to the mix of hope and fear that motivated him to repeat his question despite the emotional toll it evidently inflicted to lay himself bare like that.

For her part, Kimberly was simply surprised. "What? Obviously no!" Her flippant reaction was a simple defense mechanism she'd refined for years. Whenever anyone asked her to set them up with one of her friends, she immediately blew them off. It happened a lot, for obvious reasons, and anything less than scorched earth would inevitably lead to more bargaining, more pathetic pleading, more weird stalker bullshit. But this wasn't every time, this was the time her master's friend asked the question. Looking around the table, Pedro looked like a kicked puppy and Kyle looked annoyed and disappointed. Realizing that she'd made an error, Kimberly attempted to salvage the situation. "Um... once I became Kyle's, we all have a man in our life. I'm not saying you're too poor, I'm saying the goods are sold out."

As lies went, Kimberly thought it was pretty good. Firstly because it was mostly true. Kaitlin, Kendra, and Kinsley all belonged to Master Kyle, so they definitely had a man in their life. The obvious exception was Katy, who as yet hadn't accepted slavery and didn't even have a boyfriend. She cautiously scanned her master's face, looking for clues as to whether she had pleased him or not. It was difficult to tell, his expression was unreadable.

Pedro got his nachos con todos without saying much of anything. He slumped back into his seat like a bag full of onions. Feeling that it was her duty to restart the conversation, Kimberly did her best. "So, what do you guys think of Krystal? She's single, right?" She had plans for Krystal, but she also wanted to sound out how they might go down.

"Krystal?" Pedro asked incredulously. "You mean like, Big Mike's sister? I dunno man, she is like, Mala Zorra Diabla, you know? Hot, yes. But she is like, God's punishment for going to Big Mike's house." It seemed like a pretty heavy comparison to make, but Kyle treated it like a reasonable thing to say.

Kimberly finished her food in just a few bites. Inwardly she rejoiced, Krystal's reputation among the skaters was even better than she'd thought. Well, not better, but certainly more useful.

=/=

Kyle woke in darkness. There was a woman's body pressed against him. Only one though, because his bed wasn't large enough for everyone to stay after the evening's orgy. Four women crawling on him, rubbing themselves against him, howling out his name. He'd cum in or on all of them, and when he thought back to it, that was very strange. Ever since Kinsley had started the enslavement process for herself and her friends, Kyle had found himself getting hard constantly and cumming many times a day. At first he'd chalked it all up to his own excitement at being able to rub his nakedness on his sister's friends - four women who had featured prominently in his fantasies and his frustrations for several years. But while the novelty hadn't warn off, he had enough clarity to realize that things were very far from what he could consider normal.

One of his sister's friends was the great granddaughter of some kind of Goat Spawn, and she'd messed up a magic spell in a way that made him have a magic penis that enslaved women that he showed it to. That part was admittedly pretty strange as well, but he'd kind of accepted it. And importantly, he'd gotten confirmation from Kinsley and her mother that that really was what had happened. He didn't have a great explanation for why he was producing so much semen every day. It seemed almost certain that it had something to do with Kinsley's magic, but whether it was something to fear or celebrate he didn't know. Even asking Kinsley seemed pointless, not because he couldn't trust her to be truthful with him, but because he couldn't trust her judgment as to weal and woe. While making him into her master had been a mistake, enslaving herself had apparently been deliberate. He wondered whether she would be happier if she had gotten the kind of tyrannical master she had been looking for, and he hoped that the answer was no.

A woman's body was snuggled up against him, and he didn't even know which one it was. Before he'd gone to sleep, women had taken turns licking him, caressing him, rubbing him with their faces and their breasts. And then they had taken to riding him while the others continued tantalizing him with their bodies and cooing out their declarations of servitude. It was enough to inflate a man's ego. They were still at it as he drifted into unconsciousness, each hungry for his semen and trying to suck it out of his fuck-stick or lick it off of or out of each other. As far as he was aware, all four of them were still going at it after he fell asleep, and he genuinely did not know which one of them had stayed with him when they finally surrendered to the fact that his bed wasn't really big enough for five people to sleep. It wasn't exactly big enough for two people, at least not unless they were willing to cuddle up quite close for the entire night. That was precisely the reason that his erection was wedged like Excalibur in the stone between the warm thighs of... someone.

As the curtains of sleep parted from the windows of his mind, he became more concerned rather than less. It was actually quite a nice feeling to awake with the warmth and softness of a woman snuggled against him, and in many ways it was the prospect of being able to wake like that in the future that was the most promising aspect of so many beauties declaring him to be their owner. Even more so than literally stuffing their holes, although that was also pretty great. And yet, as his mind considered his situation, the fact that his penis was nestled into someone and he didn't know who it was weighed heavily on his sense of calm. He needed to see what was going on in his own bed. He needed light.

Thinking about going to light switch and flipping it sounded like a trick he'd get injured attempting. What was he going to do to get over the warm body beside him? Ollie? Kickflip? None of that sounded remotely doable. All the rumination about magic gave him an idea. When he'd created his mage marks on the asses of his slaves there had been light. Light before the marks appeared. Before the incantation was even finished. He wondered if he could... he made a goat sign with one hand and a reached out with the other. "Ia Ia Shubnigurath..." he whispered and the abyss began to answer him. A purple light emanated from his outstretched hand, illuminating the room and revealing that he shared a bed with Kimberly. He stopped his chant and the glow persisted.

Once he could see that the woman in his bed was Kimberly, he realized that he hadn't really needed the light after all. Her blond curls might not be visible in the darkness, but they certainly felt like curls under his chin. Kinsley and Kaitlin's hair might both be black in the night, but Kinsley had long wavy hair and Kaitlin's straight hair was relatively short. Kendra's hair was curly, but whether the braids were wrapped in a bag for sleep or not, they were obviously different from Kimberly's looser, shorter curls. He realized that she was different from his other slaves in shape and even scent. None of the women used the same conditioner, the same body wash, or the same facial cleanser. Even without perfume, they simply smelled different. He could distinguish them in the dark, but he hadn't realized he had that capability until he'd banished the darkness.

One consequence of his foray into light magic was that Kimberly stirred in her sleep. "Whu...?" Her eyes opened blurrily. "Master? What's that light?" As she blinked her vision into acuity, the tenor of her voice changed. "Master, is that light coming from your hand?"

"Uh... yes. I guess it is. I um... used some magic. Like, to see." His explanation was lame. He knew it was lame. But he didn't know how to explain it. It was the first spell he'd ever made up, and he wasn't sure that it was safe.

He wasn't sure what response he expected, but Kimberly's squeal of delight definitely wouldn't have been on the short list. "Oh Master, have you used sorcery to bind me more thoroughly as your slave?" She had a moment of introspection as she tried to find the limits of her proprioception as she attempted to locate parts of herself that Kyle now owned that he perhaps hadn't before. It was difficult, because she was pretty sure that Kyle owned her entire body.

Kyle shook his head. "I don't think so, I was just making light." He felt embarrassed by his actions, and so it was not without a smattering of shame that he admitted. "I wasn't sure who was in bed with me, and so I conjured... um... some light." He sighed, realizing that probably sounded pretty lame. "So, where did the others go?"

If Kimberly had any resentment towards his pathetic explanation, she didn't show it. "Oh, Kinsley is sleeping in Katy's bed, and Kaitlin and Kendra are sleeping on the couch. Tomorrow we're going to stay at Kaitlin's place because her family is out of the picture. That means we can use Kaitlin's bed. We can all use Kaitlin's bed." He had no idea what the inside of Kaitlin's room looked like, and so he had no opinion one way or the other about sleeping in the Chinese American woman's bed instead of his own. He didn't suppose it could be much more cramped than the bed he used, and by Kimberly's excited tone of voice he inferred that it was much bigger. The irony being that Kaitlin was the smallest of his slaves, so he wasn't sure why she'd have an especially large bed.

"Oh," he said without confidence, a statement that was almost a question, "good." Part of his trepidation came from worry about what Kinsley might be up to in bed with his sister. Katy had been sharing a bed with her friends for years, and he'd never been concerned about it before. He'd been envious, because she was just casually sleeping next to some of the hottest girls he knew. But before Kinsley had used abyssal sorcery to bind herself and her friends as his sex slaves he hadn't been concerned.

She wiggled up into him, and noticed how much of him there was to wiggle against. "Master, you have an erection. How would you like me to get you off?" The bluntness of her question brought a snicker from Kyle. He'd been thinking of what Kinsley might be up to, and so part of him was expecting some circuitous Kinsley statement with SAT words and cthonic jargon.

"Yes Kimberly," he smiled indulgently, "I would love it if you did that." He propped himself up to give her space to roll over on his back. To do so, his hand came out of the goat sign, and the purple radiance dimmed on his other hand. By the time Kimberly's legs had spread in welcome, the glow had practically extinguished itself. The dying of the light was no deterrent for him, he rolled onto the woman and her legs pulled him into her center. At first his dick slid in too low, squeezing in between her thighs and just tickling her labia, but a slight repositioning allowed him to spear into her waiting hole.

Even without light, Kimberly knew where every part of Kyle's body was. Just being in contact with him gave her a feeling of being dominated. She knew her pussy had taken the shape of her master's rod, and she sucked in her breath as she awaited her completion. His first stab was off target, and her thighs were reluctant to let him go even though she understood with every part of her body that however much she loved the feel of her master's cock on the outside of her body that having him fill her insides would be even better. When the cockhead finally spread her pussy lips, she groaned in ecstasy. Being wrapped around her owner's cock brought a joy and a clarity of purpose that had been absent from her life for longer than she cared to admit. It was almost enough for her to want to keep Kyle to herself. She felt deeply that she needed to help him to dominate more women, that she needed to help him fuck his other slaves, but there was a part of her that didn't want share him at all. And when her cunt was filled with his lovestick, that part of her was much louder.

Even that proved to be too much to think about as he began pistoning her into his bed. She'd been with boys that wanted to do bullshit rough stuff in the past, but she had never been slammed into with such power. The small bed creaked under them as he treated her like a rag doll. Squk Squk Squk. The sounds her hot wetness made while accommodating him were undignified, and she didn't care. She didn't care about anything except milking her master. It wasn't just the thing she had to do because she was Kyle's property, it was the thing she wanted to do because being used as Kyle's fuck meat was absolutely the best. "Ah! Ah! Aaaah!" She probably woke everyone else up in the house with her orgasm, and she didn't care. They all knew how great it was to be fucked by Master Kyle. Well, all of them except Katy. She felt bad about leaving Katy out of her master's slave harem, even if it was just for a little while.

=/=

He walked into the Panda Express holding a piece of paper with ink on it like it was nineteen ninety-eight. On it was written all the foodstuffs he was supposed to pick up for himself and for his sex slaves. He wasn't completely on board with running errands for his slaves rather than vice versa, but Kimberly had assured him that they needed him out of the house to do slave stuff for him, and that was that. Looking at the orders list, Kyle had gotten all the way to rattling off the dinner orders when he realized who was standing behind the counter ready to take those orders. His ex-girlfriend, Kelly Marsh. Her eyes were even wider than normal as if she was a fish caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "... look, sorry. I can order from someone else. It's fine."

Kelly took a heavy breath. "No! Please, I'll get in trouble if I don't... it's fine. We're not... I can just... I mean... Welcome to Panda Express, can I take your order?" She didn't look happy, but she had regained enough composure that she didn't look like a fish gasping in the air. He gave her the order, which had quite a few things in it, leaving an awkward pause while she dished food into red boxes. "I ran into Kimberly," she admitted awkwardly, "so, I guess you two are dating now?"

She obviously didn't want to have that conversation. So obvious was it that she didn't really want to have that conversation that Kyle had an internal debate as to whether it would be worse to answer or not answer. Eventually the awkwardness of the social void made the decision for him. "Yeah, Kimberly's my girlfriend now," he admitted, then he realized what it meant that Kelly had had that conversation with Kimberly. The blond woman was almost as aggressive about sex slave recruitment as Kinsley. He needed to learn more, but his heart sank into his stomach as he asked the question, "she didn't say anything weird to you, did she? She knows our history, so if she did anything I have to apologize for, I apologize on her behalf." He winced in anticipation, expecting the conversational equivalent of a car crash.

As she was putting spring rolls into a box, Kelly sighed. "Yeah, um. She thinks you're going to cheat on her. With me." Kimberly had offered to have a preemptive threesome to keep that from happening, a plot twist she hadn't even begun to process.

The revelation didn't surprise Kyle in the slightest, and for the first time in the encounter he felt at-ease enough to laugh. "Oh boy, yeah that sounds like Kimberly. She probably wanted to watch. But yeah, I know that's not happening. You made it pretty clear where we stand. Sorry, where you stand, and I stand. What's that guy's name again?" It wasn't that there weren't still wounds, but his old heartbreak wasn't nearly as impactful with the passage of time. Also getting his dick wet several times a day seemed to help a lot with his unresolved feelings for Kelly.

"It was Kevin." Kelly said gloomily.

"I imagine it still is." He shrugged.

She winced, his apparent nonchalance hitting harder than a torrent of tears and cuss words would have. "Not to me... um, Kyle? Do you remember when you thought my family money came from goldfish, rather than gold and fish?" Her expression was hard to read, her large eyes quivering with emotion.

Kyle rolled his own eyes. "It was a... look, I just didn't hear it right."

"No, I didn't bring that up to make fun of you. I thought it was cute." She looked at him earnestly, her ability to put fried rice in a red box utterly unimpeded by her distraction.

"Well, it obviously wasn't cute enough, was it?" For the briefest of moments, she could see a range of emotions cross his face. Sadness. Anger. Nothing she hadn't expected, though she had almost convinced herself that they weren't going to be there after all. "Sorry. That wasn't fair," he accepted with as much magnanimity as he could muster, "we were kids. Your favorite Disney princess was Moana. My favorite Offspring song was Pretty Fly. You left because you didn't want to be kids with me. And while I can see that right now you need to work a shitty job for weed money or whatever, we both know you're going to get that goldfish money eventually. You told me that you didn't need me where you were going, and you're still right about that. I'll tell Kimberly she doesn't have anything to worry about from you." He took the boxes of food and left the restaurant.

Kelly told the manager that she needed to use the bathroom. Once she had cloistered herself away, she finally allowed herself to cry. Moana was still her favorite Disney princess, a fact that Kevin had never learned and wouldn't have remembered if he had. She couldn't believe that Kimberly of all people had managed to see what she could not. Her eyes filled with tears, Kelly couldn't see much of anything.

=/=

"What are you guys doing?" Katy asked as if the answer wasn't obvious. Her friends were standing. Their hands were behind their backs, and they were all looking straight ahead at the living room wall. Together they looked practically military.

Without even moving her head, Kaitlin explained. "We're practicing our positions while Kyle gets us Panda Express. After we eat it, we'll move the party to my house." Her parents definitely expected to come home to find evidence that she'd partied in their absence, but her dad would blow a gasket if he came home to evidence that they'd been eating Panda Express. He'd go on a rant about how it was not real China. Which like, obviously it wasn't, but he didn't freak out about how the tambun biscuits they had in Malaysia weren't real fucking China. It annoyed her greatly that her dad still thought of Chinese people and the things they made as being somehow less Chinese if they weren't born and made in the actual country of China. It made her acutely aware of the fact that she herself wasn't born on the mainland, and it was something she thought about every time she questioned whether he loved her as much as he loved her older brother. And yet, Kaitlin was proud of herself. She had weathered the storm of distressing thoughts and maintained her slave position.

Katy had never been to see the British guards with the stupid hats that stood there impassively while people acted like jackasses, but seeing the four women posing together she thought she understood. The impulse to go up and goof off in the edges of their personal space was almost overwhelming. Instead, she asked a question that was almost as disruptive. "Wait, Kyle is running an errand for you? Does that mean you aren't slaves anymore?" The hopefulness in her voice was impossible to disguise. She wanted her friends back.

"Unequivocally no," Kinsley demurred, "our status as property is consistent and eternal. We have tempted Master Kyle away with a quest, promising in turn that we should be preparing tribute for him upon his return. What you witness is our training to provide suitable spectacle for our owner." She didn't even move her eyes to cast them on her friend.

"Are you guys seriously just going to stand there?" Katy huffed. "We're all together, and you're doing... whatever this is... like I'm not even here." She sounded genuinely upset, something that wasn't feigned at all. "Kyle's not even here! We could do something together!"

Kimberly broke pose and looked at her friend with fondness. "You know what, Katy? You're right." She walked over and put her hand on Katy's shoulder in a very familiar way. "We have a lot of stuff to do now that Kyle owns us, but you're our friend. It's not fair for us to leave you out of the reindeer games." She pulled a surprised Katy into a big hug. "I'm sorry there's been this distance, Katy. But I promise you, soon everything will be normal. We'll do everything together. Just like best friends should." Kimberly placed her forehead against Katy's, their breasts flattening against each other in their embrace.

Returning the blond woman's grip with hunger and affection. "Thank you, Kimberly," she sobbed, "it felt like I was losing you. Like you were getting farther and farther away." She closed her eyes and held herself close to Kimberly.

The other three women held a brief whispered conversation. The seemed to reach a consensus and Kaitlin came up behind Katy. "OK, you can practice with us, but you gotta keep up. What you're wearing is no good for this, so you gotta take it off."

"What?" Katy broke her forehead communing with Kimberly to look at the Chinese American woman.

"There's no shame in the game sista," Kendra proclaimed, "you just gotta dress to impress. You ain't doin yoga without yoga pants. So get changed, or just take those pants off and do it in your underwear." She slapped her own ass, demonstrating that the jiggle of the impact on her booty was extremely visible through her tight yoga pants.

"If it makes it easier for you," Kinsley suggested, "we could remove our own clothing. We can practice our positions in our underwear just like you will be."

She shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that..." Katy stumbled over her words.

"But we still can't have you doing this in skinny jeans!" Kimberly protested. Her tanned hands grasped Katy's waistband. Pale hands fumbled at Katy's buttons. Darker hands began untucking her shirt.

"No, wait..." Katy looked to the thirsty face of one fried and then another. She felt her jeans pulling it over her rump.

As Katy's thong came into view, there was an appreciative hum from Kaitlin. The black haired woman sank to her own knees as she pulled the jeans down. "Oh yeah, Katy. You have a proper derriere. Your master is going to get so hard when he sees this." Moving one of her hands to squeeze Katy's backside, she gasped. "Yeah, your owner's mark is going right here." Kaitlin kissed the right butt cheek, the same place that her own butt had been marked by Kyle's K. "Your skin looks so nice and clear, it's the perrrfect place to have you marked. You'll do so well with the target demographic."

"We need you to step out of these things." Kimberly said frankly. Several hands steadied Katy as she stepped sideways and several more disentangled the jeans from her ankles. Then there was nothing on her below the waist but her thong and a bit of Kaitlin's lipstick on her butt. "There we go." Kimberly looked at her friend and considered. "Nope. That blouse is no good for this either." Katy's eyes bulged and she stammered as her friends began unbuttoning the front of her top. Many hands make light work, and soon it was completely open. Almost immediately, her arms were pulled backward and the blouse was slipped off of her. She stood with no clothes but her bra and panties, fear and bewilderment warring with other feelings as she looked at her friend. Kimberly tapped her finger against her own cheek in a position of exaggerated consideration. "Yeah, that will do. Now, get on your knees."

"What?"

Kendra huffed in a manner that was nearly a harrumph. "Obviously, I'm gonna have to show her." She sank to her knees and spread them apart. Then she put he hands behind her head and raised her elbows. She looked straight ahead at Katy. Through Katy. The outlines of her underwear were plainly visible through the thin covering of her yoga pants and stretch top. Katy was more naked than her friend, but only barely. "This is Bide," Kendra affirmed, "this is what we are doing, and so this's what you will be doing." She smiled serenely, her body stable enough that her box braids hung without flapping.

Hands helped push Katy to her knees, bringing her face to face with Kendra. A much paler woman leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Witness how Kendra's stance draws attention to her breasts, to her crotch. Now you must duplicate this feat, Katy." Hands pried her thighs apart. Hands moved her own hands to behind her head. Wherever she looked, her friends' hands were moving. Pushing, pulling, molding her into position. "You look so delectable like that, Katy. When you attain the Bide stance, there is no way that your owner's gaze could fall upon you without arousing their ardor."

Katy looked up at Kinsley. "What?"

"That's wrong, Katy," Kimberly said with a hint of sadness, "you need to keep your head forward. Your hands behind." The tan arms of Kimberly wrapped around Katy's body and reset her neck and elbows. "That's better. Now you're displayed properly."

Kaitlin reached around from behind and her fingers found the edges of Katy's bra where the flesh escaped its confinement. "While you are biding, it's important that your breasts are pushed forward like that. They are a visual advertisement for your charms. They remind your owner of how attractive you are. Remind your master that you are beautiful and fuckable." Kaitlin gave up any pretense of merely tracing Katy's titflesh, and began groping them quite openly.

"What are you...?" Katy twitched and recoiled, her thighs pulling back together.

Kimberly was having none of it. "Wrong! That's wrong, Katy!" The blond woman pressed her friend's thighs back apart with her own hands. Katy saw a mop of blond curls between her legs. "Your crotch needs to be on display. Something your owner can see. Let him know you're enough of a horny bitch that you'd ride his foot if he gave you permission." Kimberly's breath stimulated her through her tiny thong, creating a warm wind that make the clit impossible to ignore. "Look at Kendra, Katy. She's so ready for her master to take her. She's so hot. So beautiful. Her owner is going to see those tits and know she absolutely means business. It's the same for you Katy. You're so hot like this. Your owner is going to get so hard looking at you. We're all proud of you Katy. You can be with us, just like this." Kimberly leaned forward and kissed the front coverage of Katy's thong.

By the time Kyle had returned with the food, all five women were in Table position in a neat row. Of the five asses pointed at him when he walked in the corner, one of them stood out because it had a lipstick kiss instead of the blocky K symbol on all the others.

=/= End Chapter 4 =/=