2.7 Veggie Dip

Dagrun was closer to the door, talking in that unfamiliar language to Nechtan the water-man and hairy Henry and Roshanak the Middle Eastern lady who looked like a spectacularly beautiful human with no strangeness visible. She remembered the feel of Henry’s fingers between her legs, how she’d stood obediently still to let him look and touch, and felt heat again—heat in her cheeks, as he grinned at her, but heat much lower, too, and it spread like wildlife.

She offered the tray to Dagrun.

“Thank you, little one.” Dagrun set her empty cup delicately on the tray and took one of the full ones. “I didn’t even need to ask.”

“You’re welcome.” She glanced around for Sigrun, found her a short way off, and started in that direction. The white giant had moved forward in her seat and had her knees parted; Flair was kneeling between them, and while Sigrun’s massive thighs largely blocked the view, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the girl was licking her. Enthusiastically.

What was it like, having that kind of contact with another woman? she wondered. What would another woman taste like? What would it feel like even with a human woman, let alone a giant who was possibly twice her height?

She was straight, she didn’t think things like that!

That was followed promptly by the other thoughts. She was allowed to. If those questions created images that fed the heat, that was okay. She wasn’t supposed to feel bad about feeling good.

Flair was so intent on what she was doing that she didn’t even look up when Jewel approached. Jewel held out the tray, waiting while Sigrun finished what she was saying to tree-like Taiki and eagle-winged Zipporah and noticed her.

“Mm, good. Talking is drying, and it’s warm in here.” She swapped empty cup for full, and reached down with her other hand to stroke Flair’s hair and down her back. Flair arched into it like a cat.

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2.6 Panic

Jillian brought her legs together and wriggled a bit so her panties dropped down to the floor, then tried awkwardly to pick them up. It wasn’t made any easier by the lingering breathlessness and dizziness from her encounter with Henry. She finally dropped to one knee to reach them, then had to get up.

Her leg muscles protested in multiple places, since her boots kept her heels several inches higher than the ball of her foot. She wasn’t the most flexible person to begin with, but the corset further restricted her range. Her centre of balance seemed off, somehow, and she couldn’t quite work out how to compensate. She staggered, rather embarrassingly, struggling to get both feet under her and her back straight before she found herself sprawled on the floor.

A strong hand around her wrist jerked her even more off-balance, and she yelped—but instead of falling, she came up against a warm body. Arms wrapped around her tightly, taking part of her weight and keeping her upright.

And she recognized that scent, even before she looked directly into yellow eyes over an impish grin. Oh please, not now, give me a minute to recover first…

“Well, hi, there.”

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2.5 Partytime

Halfway back to the solar, Jewel heard that mellow chime again.

“Wonder who now,” Flair mused, and, as they came through the doors, “It’s Dagrun. She won’t do anything in your head, that’s not her thing. Here, take this to Mistress, I’ll take Nik’s, and then I’ll introduce you to Dagrun.”

The newcomer was impossible to miss: she had to be at least ten feet tall, and her build was fit and sturdy. Her hair, streaks of blonde and copper and crimson, lay forward over one shoulder in a long and very thick braid, and her skin was pale as old ivory. She was wearing blood-red leather pants, with leather boots to match that had heavy high wedge heels, and a red leather halter-top over breasts that must each be larger than Jewel’s head, and short red fingerless gloves. As Jewel watched, she settled herself casually into one of the largest chairs, which seemed to be sized for her, though she towered over everyone else.

Mistress had coiled herself in apparent comfort on one of the cushioned stone platforms, leaning against the raised side. Nikandros was in a more normal-sized chair with a shallow seat that accommodated his leg proportions; the short furry tail of a goat protruded through the opening at the back, and she saw it flutter back and forth excitedly as Flair approached with his wine.

Mistress accepted her glass with a nod. “Thank you, dear. Now go see if Dagrun would like something.”

She couldn’t let on how miserable she was currently feeling. That would upset Mistress, and that was bad. And it would probably disappoint Nikandros, and that was bad too.

Struggling to swallow helpless despair, she waited for Flair to finish with Nikandros—who had pulled her onto his lap, where she was giggling and arching into his hand with no sign of apprehension or reluctance at all.

“I have to say hi to Dagrun,” Flair said, when his hand wandered down between her legs.

He sighed. “I suppose so. But if I can’t have any of me in any opening of Jewel’s, I’ll just have to make use of as many of yours as possible instead.”

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2.4 Satyr and Melusine

While they were cleaning up, Jewel paused, startled by a low chime, loud enough to be audible but not so loud it was intrusive. It seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“That means someone just stepped through to the outer lounge,” Flair said. “It’s all right, we don’t have to rush. The doors are open and they know where the solar is and they’re early. But we can go see if they want a drink. Probably it’s Nik anyway.”

When they reached the solar, they found only a single person present.

Jewel blinked, shocked halfway out of the state of acceptance she’d managed to fall into.

Definitely a person, but equally definitely not a human.

From about the waist up, that was a fairly tall, very handsome man who looked like a Greek statue of the idealized young male body come to life. The small curved horns peeking out of the dense curly black hair somehow failed to detract from that.

At around waist level, that olive skin blended into thick brown woolly fur, very dark on the outer surfaces and around the lowest part, but much paler on his inner thighs and around his bare erect penis. She pulled her gaze away, blushing, trying to focus on the fact that his legs were animal-shaped, with shortened thighs and a hock, all ending in split hooves of shiny black. She couldn’t keep her gaze from going back to his penis, though. She had no idea what a… was he part goat, maybe? No idea what a goat’s anatomy looked like, and no interest in it, although probably it stayed inside when not in use like most animals. This goat-man’s, though, was oddly fascinating. It wasn’t extraordinarily large, maybe around the upper edge of human normal in length and the girth of the shaft, but the shape was different. Most obviously, the head flared more and the very tip was more pointed. And it was quite an appealing pink against that creamy background…

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2.3 Party Prep

They retraced their steps, back to the warm, comfortable living room. Jillian felt awkward and out of place, dressed like this in such a prosaic setting, and it only grew worse when Min had her rotate in a slow circle so all sides of her were visible.

“Lovely,” Min said. “I’d even go so far as to call the pair of you sensational. Well done, and it’s been less than an hour. Hm, but you certainly don’t look like Jillian. I think a new name is in order. Jolie? No, you are that, but let’s make it something in English. You’re certainly a treasure, so let’s go with Jewel. From now until the end of your time with us, you aren’t Jillian, you’re Jewel. If you’d like me to, in order to make this less stressful for you, I can make certain that for the next few hours, you can’t remember anything other than being my pet Jewel. It would, in effect, keep you focused here and now without extraneous and currently irrelevant internal distractions.”

Jillian hesitated. That had its appeal, all things considered… but she’d never cared for being extremely drunk and unable to keep track of the consequences of her own actions. And Flair had told her that Min didn’t like doing that. Presumably she offered out of kindness anyway. Or because it was better than watching her temporary pet be miserably conflicted.

Jillian shook her head. Not that she was Jillian now. Thinking of herself as a free human woman named Jillian gave her that sense of wrongness; thinking of herself as Mistress’ human pet Jewel, on the other hand, felt right. Now that decree had been made, she was obviously going to get constant reminders every time she slipped, until she adjusted to thinking of herself the right way. “Thank you, Mistress, but I’m all right.” She hadn’t planned on saying Mistress, it just slipped out on its own, but it felt oddly easy and comfortable, and gave her that sense of rightness. But then, Jewel was Mistress’ pet, and that made it appropriate.

Oh god. Am I even going to be myself at the end of this? Are these weird things in my head going to go away? I hope so I hope so I hope so…

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2.2.3 Getting Ready 3

Beyond the sliding door was a substantial room that held a matching suite of antique-looking elaborately inlaid wooden furniture: a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a vanity table with a mirror, a short padded bench in front of the vanity and a longer one against a far wall. One wall, as in the bathroom, was a single unbroken mirror. A small mound of black and white fabric waited on the longer bench, with a pair of low boots with alarming heels on the floor next to it.

“Hm, clothes first,” Flair decided, and picked up a handful of thin black nylon. “Just drop the towels.”

“I can get dressed by myself.”

“Trust me, you’ll need help. Here, put these on.”

Jillian untangled them, and found that they were black sheer thigh-high stockings with a rubber strip around the top inside to keep them in place, and a wide band of white lace around the outside at the top. She gathered each up, fitted it over her toes, and drew it carefully upwards, smoothing out any wrinkles. Against her hairless and sensitized skin, it felt distractingly sensual.

“Stand up. This is the bit you need help with.” Flair chose from the bench something satiny white that looked strangely rigid.

“No panties?” Jillian considered arguing, but that feeling of wrongness resurfaced until she stood up, then it turned back to the pleasant feeling of approval.

Flair sighed. “There’s no need for them, and they’ll just get in the way once you’re all dressed. But if you really want them…”


Flair went to the chest of drawers, opened the top one, and without even looking pulled out a pair of white panties. Jillian tried not to grab them too rudely. All right, they were thin satiny stuff that left her hips bare, and they weren’t going to do all that much to guard modesty or chastity, but they covered the area that currently felt entirely too exposed to absolutely everything including stray breezes.

“Feel better?” Flair asked tolerantly.

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