This story is both set in the UK of now and on Xylae. I left it ambivalent to allow the reader to draw their own conclusions about what was going on. At the end of the story I have included some thoughts I had about the story which were posted on the forum at the MCStories website. You might find the different explanations interesting and may have very different ones of your own.
The Slave Dreams
Pheniesta woke and stretched her body languorously. She opened her eyes and looked along the skin-tight black rubber catsuit she wore. She gently ran her fingers over the slippery, shiny surface that clung to her whole body. Pheniesta thought back to the previous day and how good it had felt to throw aside the boring clothes and slide naked into these glossy things: both coating and yet revealing her whole body in the rubber. She shivered with pleasure as she knew now that whoever saw her would know her as nothing but a nubile, a sex-slave. Currently she belonged to the slaveress Cazine, though she had no doubt she would soon be sold on to a Master or Mistress. Pheniesta liked that thought. Men and women she would have once called ‘sir’ or ‘madam’ she would now have to call ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’. She was no longer a free woman, she was just an item, someone’s property, to be used how they wished. Quickly her mind filled with the thought of sucking her Master’s cock or her Mistress’s pussy and bringing them to orgasm.
Pheniesta did not know whether it was the tight, sexy clothes she wore or the collar at her neck, but since Syltera had locked that collar around her throat her mind had constantly been flooded with thoughts of sex: images of things she was eager to do for her Owner, and, if lucky, with her fellow nubiles. Pheniesta could resist the urges rising within her no longer. As one hand began rotating on her pert, gloss covered nipple, the other slid down the zip over her pussy and plunged into her sex which now seemed permanently wet, hot and aroused. Distantly Pheniesta remembered a time when doing such things was something she only indulged in when at her lowest and certainly not somewhere like here where anyone could walk in and see her. In fact that thought felt good: she wanted someone to see her, to see how good a slave she was, always ready to service her Owner sexually. After all, that was her function; that was why she had become a nubile.
For a moment some distant memory staggered into Pheniesta’s mind. She had only become a nubile the day before, so she must have been something before that, though it did all seem so distant. There were vague images: some kind of office, a warehouse. Had she tired of working in the warehouse? Had one of Cazine’s traders recruited her through telling her a little of what she knew now for certain was the most pleasurable existence she could have? She was proud that the trader had spotted her as a potential nubile, knowing she had a body Owners would relish, knowing that she could be so obedient to whoever purchased her. Pheniesta was so grateful to that sharp-eyed trader investing in her; giving her these erotic clothes and the collar which must be so expensive. All of that had been done for her. She would repay those gifts the best she could: by being the most obedient, the most erotic slave that she could.
The door opened and Pheniesta slowed playing with her body. It was Jenesytra. She was dressed in dark maroon leathers: an ankle length coat over a top and tight trousers that ran into riding boots. She held a leash in her hand that led to the collar of another nubile. Pheniesta scrambled to slide from the bed rising for a moment on the high, sharp heels of her thigh boots before falling to her knees, her head bowed demurely before her current Owner.
“Mistress.” Pheniesta said, the word coming automatically to her.
“Pheniesta, rise, continue pleasuring yourself, a nubile enjoys the pleasures she can take.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Pheniesta replied and climbed to her feet.
Pheniesta did not hesitate. She loved the way the boots made her stand, thrusting out her pussy and her breasts and she continued pleasuring them as commanded. With Syltera watching, Pheniesta was soon a grunting, shuddering creature as orgasm took her.
“Excellent.” Syltera said. “You are a wonderful nubile.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“Now, we have a sale later today, and Domina Ashtal has decided she will sell you and Colirena as a pair, but first she wants to know how you perform together. I want you to lap each other’s pussies until you are shrieking in pleasure with anticipation, keeping each other like that, until I command you to climax.”
“Yes, Mistress.” The two nubiles responded.
Jenesytra released Colirena’s leash. Meanwhile Pheniesta returned to the bed, laying back, splaying her booted legs wide, ready for her fellow slave’s mouth to engage. She did not have to wait long. Eagerly Colirena was on her, thrusting her own sodden pussy towards Pheniesta’s mouth as her tongue began lapping at Pheniesta's wet sex. Soon both slaves were lost to the world, their focus simply on the pleasure that each was bringing the other and the restraint that their Owner’s commands locked on them.
Stephanie woke in a sweat. She had been having a very strange dream. From the smell of sweat and the tang of sexual juice coming from her fingers, it had clearly been hot. Since she had booted Cameron out for being such a wimp, she had not had a regular sexual partner, but the combination of one-night stands she picked up among the City stockbrokers and the use of her favourite toys had kept her satisfied. She wondered why the urge had come now. Maybe she had got to bed too early, but she had felt so tired. Caroline, her partner in the warehousing business, had complained similarly a couple of nights before. Since the SLV Wear account had cleared out, the two of them had been to the Whitechapel site quite a lot, getting it in shape for the next company who wanted to hire it. The area was renowned for its clothing wholesalers and outlets, and clothing was generally a clean product to store. All you had to watch out was preventing mice getting in which always made clients complain if it happened. Consequently Stephanie always had the warehouse purged each time it fell empty.
Stephanie had wondered about SLV Wear. She had knew they were specialists of some sort and they said they did mainly women’s clothes, but from the rubbery smell and the odd items left around she guessed they were clearly in the fetish market. Not that there was anything wrong with that. To Stephanie whatever people fancied was there own business. Her business education had clearly been in the ‘greed is good’ category. She knew she brought income to the people of the areas where her warehouses were located; goods for the shops round about; an income for the manufacturers and without her it all fell down. She did not care how the stuff was made, some of it might be called sweated labour but Stephanie's attitude was that you paid the lowest wages you could get away with: it was good business sense.
The telephone beside Stephanie’s bed warbled.
“Steph? It’s Caroline. Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. What’s the matter?”
“Well, I was just having dreams, not really bad dreams, strange dreams.”
“I know what you mean.”
“You had something like that too?”
“Yes, I guess I did. I am here in a sweat-soaked bed.”
“It’s freaky. I had to call you.”
“You there alone?”
“Yes, Jasper flew out to Zurich on Tuesday.”
“You know the corporate lawyer from that bar at the St. Katherine’s Dock marina.”
“Oh yes, well I can see why you held on to him for a while.”
“Well, that’s what’s worried me. Sex with him is a treat, but in this dream, I was erh, screwing you.”
“Well, we’re women of the world.” Stephanie joked, a little unnerved that Caroline’s dream sounded so like her own. “We can tolerate some girl-on-girl action in dreams, but in reality love, you’re just not my type.”
Caroline laughed lightly but when she spoke again her voice was serious. “Well, what do you think caused it? Someone doped both our lattes yesterday?”
“Possibly, someone trying on one of those drugs, make us more pliable. I didn’t like the look of that pair by the window in the bar, you remember, you said they looked like estate agents.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t get near our drinks. I wondered if it was something at the Whitechapel warehouse. Some chemical leaking or something.”
“Well, most of the chemicals our clients use are nothing stronger than dry cleaning fluid.”
“Yeah, but that SLV Wear, they were a bit odd.”
“But I wondered if there was something in what they use, don’t these sex toy companies sell stuff, viagra, spanish fly, that kind of thing?”
“I guess so, but they said nothing about anything medical, it was all just clothing.”
“Yeah, but a lot of it must have been leather, PVC, rubber, stuff like that.”
“Bondage gear, too don’t forget.” Stephanie reminded her.
Caroline went quiet for a few moments.
“Still there Caroline?”
“Yeah, this is going to sound strange.”
“Don’t worry, go ahead, shoot.”
“I wonder if it was those necklace things. You remember the two boxes they left. How many were there, about twenty in each. One lot had those crystals, one lot just plain.”
“Yeah. I took one of each, I’ve got them somewhere here. I was going to talk to Pete, he knows people down the market. Didn’t you take one of each too to see if you could flog them online?”
“Yes, I did. I took shots of them and posted them when I got back, just see what bites we get, if any.”
“Certainly, any stock the renter leaves behind well, then that’s ours, it may only raise a bit of cash, but from what I heard that fetish stuff goes at a fair price. Even ten pounds each would be enough for a lunch.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I just wondered if it had something to do with the dream.”
“What? Some chemicals coming off it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Stephanie could hear Caroline making sniffing noises down the phone.
“No, it just smells rubbery.” Caroline concluded.
“So why do you think there’s a connection?” Stephanie asked with true curiosity.
“Well, in the dream I was wearing one, you were too, and other stuff besides.”
“Okay, we had the same dream, yes, we were clad head-to-toe in rubber, looking like we had stepped from some top-shelf magazine. I must say, you certainly look good in that dominatrix style.” Stephanie said lightly.
“Well, it wasn’t dominatrix, we were the slaves don’t forget.”
“It’s all much of a muchness.”
“But it was peculiar, being someone’s slave.”
“You got too turned on by it, is that what’s worrying you?”
“Erm, I suppose so, yes. I always think of myself as being in control, you too. We run the business, we run the men in our lives, it’s us who should be boss.”
“Well, there you are then. It’s a dream, it’s fantasy, it’s the brain’s way of clearing out what’s lying around in there. You and I spent the day in a place that had been jam packed with fetish gear and breathed it all in, no wonder our heads are spinning with it. What time is it?” Stephanie asked, then foolishly realised her clock radio was glaring the time at her.
“About four, four thirty.”
“What time were you in bed?”
“About ten thirty. I was worn out.”
“Well, us successful businesswomen have to work hard for our money. I was the same. So, there we are, we have the formula. Slaving away in a warehouse recently full of fetish gear, minds crowded with strange thoughts, falling into a deep sleep and bingo, there’s your dream. You and I think about a lot of things the same so it’s not a surprise with the same ingredients we come up with the same dreams.”
“I suppose so.” Caroline conceded. “I’m glad I called though.”
“Sure, if you’d given me five minutes I probably would have been worrying over the same things. We’ll have a good breakfast tomorrow and then do a bit of shopping, after today’s hard work we need a break. I’ll see you at Tellini’s at nine-thirty. Sound a deal?”
“Yeah, sounds good. See you there.”
“Right, well now back to the beauty sleep. See you tomorrow, Caroline.”
Stephanie put down the telephone receiver. For the moment the conversation had taken her away from her own concerns about the dreams. Her rationalisation of them for Caroline had helped, but the fact that they had had the same weird dreams did seem strange. Then again, she could not tell how similar they actually had been, there was no way she could see what Caroline had dreamed nor she exactly what Stephanie had seen.
Stephanie got out of bed and straightened the under sheet. She went over to the wardrobe that held her work clothes. She reached her fingers into the pocket of the jacket she had been wearing today. Her fingers touched on the two necklaces and she pulled them out. She took them back with her to bed, running their smooth shiny material between her fingers. Were they leather? Rubber? They certainly seemed tough and she wondered about the kind of women would wear these. For the moment she stuck them on her bedside table then slid back beneath the duvet, tiredness seemed suddenly to have come back over her.
Pheniesta snapped to attention, an Owner was calling her. She blinked her eyes and they regained focus. Jenesytra was stood over her, with Colirena already leashed, just behind her.
“Why did you not respond immediately?” Jenesytra asked more with curiosity than indignation.
Pheniesta was at a loss to answer. “i am sorry Mistress. My vision blurred, it was like a dream, but it was like it was real. It was like i was somewhere else, like i was someone else.”
“Who did you think you were?”
“Erm, a woman, Mistress.”
“But not a nubile, a free woman, one with money.”
“You dreamed you were your mistress, Cazine?”
“No, Mistress, i dreamt i was no-one on this world, on Xylae. i was a free woman somewhere very strange, people dressed so differently, buildings were taller than the highest castle, streets were crowded, streets on streets.”
“Fantasy, you should ignore such dreams, focus on what you are: a nubile and nothing more.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Pheniesta bowed her head, admonished.
“Good slave.” Jenesytra said as a concession. She reached forward and clipped a leash to Pheniesta’s collar.
“Thank you, Mistress.” The slave responded, a pleasurable sensation running through her as she was leashed.
Jenesytra hesitated. “Colirena, have you had such dreams?”
“Yes, Mistress. Just as Pheniesta described. i was a rich free woman, and i worked with a woman who looked like Pheniesta. As she said, we were dressed strangely, everything was peculiar.”
“Different Mistress, i didn’t like it. There i had no Owner, no-one to command me, no-one to obey, my clothes were dull.”
“I had two names, Mistress, Car, Caro, Caro-something was the first one.”
“That is ridiculous, a slave only has one name: her collar name.” Jenesytra said dismissively, ending her enquiries for now.
Jenesytra tugged on the leashes and led the two nubiles from the room. Pheniesta enjoyed being led, her tightly held bum swaying sexily as she walked; her steps shaped by the heels of her sleek, long boots. She was on show as a nubile: purely erotic, purely obedient, nothing else. As she followed her Owner, her body tingled as her glossy second skin brushed occasionally without friction over that of Colirena. Jenesytra led the two slaves along whitewashed corridors to an office, they walked in behind her and then stood, heads bowed submissively, waiting for their next commands.
“Yes, Jenesytra?” A woman in her late-middle age looked up from the papers she was reading at her desk.
"Domina Ashtal, I am sorry to have disturbed you...”
“You have that pair of nubiles?”
“Yes Domina, these are them, Pheniesta and Colirena.” She nodded to them in order.
“Good, they look fine, well matched, they will sell well as a pair. I assume they perform well together? They knew each other before they were enslaved?”
“Yes, Domina, they knew each other. But...”
“What is it? Don’t you think they are suitable?”
“No, Domina, it is that both of them have fallen into dreams; dreams while they are awake. Very peculiar dreams; they sound like dreams of the Otherworld.”
“But they’re not otherworlders are they? I thought Syltera had not taken any from there for weeks.”
“I don’t think so, she said they both worked in a warehouse a league from the old docks.”
“I can imagine, giving oneself to be a nubile would seem an excellent idea for two attractive women doing something so mundane. However, I do wonder what has caused these dreams.” Ashtal stood. She wore a sheer drape over her bare shoulders. Beneath stretched a dark purple leather dress, its laced bodice as tight as a corset, its skirt full and reaching to her booted ankles.
Ashtal walked over to the slaves and looked them up and down, occasionally running her hand over the rubber which they wore. She then fingered Pheniesta’s collar. “Of course, these are only personality collars, look at the crystals studded round them.”
Jenesytra came forward and now could see the small studded crystals.
“Of course, I am sorry Domina, I should have thought about it.”
“Yes, they will need proper collars before they are sold. You know these only lay the characteristics of a nubile over the woman’s personality, they do not fully alter her mind. Remove that now and she would remember everything of her past as forget any desire to obey, you’d probably lose all control over her. It’s a lot easier to take women this way, there’s not always time for a trader on the spot to fully induct a woman, just to make her compliant and then fully convert her once you have her in the stables.”
“I am sorry Domina, I should have been more observant, but they were so wonderfully obedient.”
“Oh, yes, I have no doubt these two will be perfect nubiles and that they will go through the final, irreversible change immediately. However, the fact that they are not quite fully slaves yet may explain their strange dreams. Jareth was saying something about keeping slaves away from portals. He thinks that energies come through from the Otherworld and we have no idea what effect they can have. He thinks it affects otherworlders more, but slaves from Xylae are also prone to being affected by such forces because as their minds are servile and their bodies submissive they need direction to keep them focused. I think Cazine’s going to have to relocate the portal in the tower, it’s probably too close to the slave stables."
The slaveress walked back to her seat.
“Good, that is dealt with. Make sure you double check any slaves coming in for collars.” Ashtal concluded.
The older woman looked back down to her papers, signalling the meeting was over.
“Follow.” Jenesytra ordered, leading the slaves away.
Soon the trio: slave dealer and slaves were descending to the rooms which opened out on to the stages that fronted Kerans’s slave market.
Reaching a room on this level Jenesytra commanded. “Kneel.”
The two slaves eased to their knees, their rubber stressing and releasing from different parts of their bodies as they did, but continuing to cling so tightly to them. Jenesytra removed the leashes then stretched over Pheniesta to cut her collar free. As she did, Pheniesta felt strange as if all certainty had been cut from her too, she was confused and watched in panic as Jenesytra cursed and scrabbled around for a proper slave collar. Pheniesta felt she was fainting, and she was sure the dreams she had had were going to come back now, so suddenly.
Stephanie gasped. She felt her head was spinning, she opened her eyes willing the motion to stop. By focusing on the lampshade, visible in the weak grey light of early morning, she managed to stop the sensation. She was obviously working too hard. She shivered a little. As she sat up Stephanie realised she was naked, her duvet had been discarded far across the room, and yet she was bathed in sweat. She could tell from how hard her nipples were and how sodden her pussy was that she had had another of those dreams. She just wished she could remember more of them. She clearly needed a good lay to get it all out of her system. She wondered if Conrad was in town, he was an arrogant bastard, domineering, but somehow that now seemed appealing in a way it had never really done so before. Maybe there could be some fun in being on the bottom, with someone else in the driving seat.
Stephanie got up. The glass from her bedside table had been knocked clear away in her dreamed passions, but the thick carpet had saved it and the only harm done was a small damp patch. She headed to the kitchen and got a new bottle of mineral water from the fridge and refilled her glass before padding back to the bedroom. She glanced at the clock radio and realised that not much more than forty minutes had passed since she had got off the phone to Caroline. She retrieved her duvet and headed back to the bed. She was in no mood for sleep at the moment, and she would have to let the sexual side of her body cool down before she could really consider it. She clicked on the bedside light and picked up the rather trashy romance novel she had bought for some reason when in the newsagents’. As she did, her hand brushed against the black collar, well both of them in fact. She put the novel aside and picked them up. The first one had the strange embedded crystals around it, the second was perfectly smooth. Stephanie held this one up to her neck. Maybe she did not need Conrad, maybe she just needed some fetish: a plain black collar like this, with that steel ring on the front, now that would shake them up next time she dined out.
Stephanie yawned, tiredness was catching her up again. She let her hand with the collar in it fall on to the duvet. She looked at the object. How did it attach? That tongue fitted into that clasp, that lock in fact; interesting. She lifted it back up to her neck again, but the yawn came again. She would leave it for another day, sleep was taking her once more.
Pheniesta came to attention as she felt the collar lock tight and Jenesytra stepped back. Pheneista felt more alert now, more awake, more certain. She knew definitely that she was a nubile, a sex-slave; dressed as a nubile in the so tight, so erotic rubber catsuit and boots and crucially in the collar that designated her as someone’s possession, their property, their sexual toy. Pheneista glanced over at Colirena, who now had been re-collared too; they were both ready.
“Stand.” Jenesytra commanded. The two slaves obeyed and waited while their leashes were attached. A servant opened the door and they followed their Owner out, to be sold.
Most of my stories have a clear conversion from one state to another and so I wanted to see if I could make it a bit less certain for the reader and let them make up their own minds. I thought there could be a number of explanations for what is going on:
1) That this is simply a story featuring two free women in our world and two slave women on Xylae and there is minimal connection between them, except SLV Wear being involved in both locations. In this explanation they are different women.
2a) That the slaves, because of the portal, have been exposed to dreams about being free women on Earth, but those free women do not actually exist.
2b) That the slaves, because of the portal, have been exposed to dreams about being free women on Earth, those free women are real women but unconnected to the slaves themselves.
3) That because of the effect of finding the collars the two free women on Earth are dreaming about what it would be like to be a slave on Xylae, but nothing is going to happen about it except that they have erotic dreams. They will sell the collars and that will be the end of it, or maybe they will keep a collar just to indulge in such dreams again.
4a) That finding the collars is actually leading the two free women to becoming slaves, as in my story 'Home Shopping'. In this explanation they are simply getting a taste of what they will become once the slaveresses of SLV Wear come back to get them and take them to Xylae.
4b) That the story is set after they have been enslaved, a bit like in the story by A Sinister Bent called 'Awake from Dreaming' and the two women are having flashbacks to before they were enslaved, living as free women on Earth, but now they have clearly become the slaves portrayed. Once they are re-collared and sold such memories will be entirely erased.
5) That the collars are causing the free women to 'phase' back and forth between Earth and Xylae; having different identities in each, as in Dana Williams's 'The Stuff of Dreams' or in my story 'Changing Clothes'. Whether they are 'locked' into being slaves on Xylae at the end is up to the reader.
There might be some other alternatives I have not thought of, but I thought it would be fun to play with these and not make it as clear cut as in my other stories. I hoped to muddy the waters a little by having the slave names being anagrams of the free women's names.