Which I’m not about to do—especially now I know he’s registered as a “deadly weapon” by the Yonnite Sacred Seven, she thought grimly.
Oh, but you are going to let him put his hands all over you? demanded a little voice in her head.
Well, he can hardly hurt me in the middle of a bunch of other people, Jillian told herself. And I was alone with him before and he was fine—a really nice guy, in fact.
Then why is Mistress Douche-bag so damn desperate to get rid of him? asked the little voice.
Jillian didn’t have an answer to that, but she supposed that she had inadvertently agreed to the massage when she agreed to take tea with the Yonnite Mistress.
It’s just a massage and you know you haven’t had one in ages, she told herself, as she went to get undressed.
She took off her jeans, t-shirt, and bra and folded them all neatly on the small wooden bench inside her booth. Then she hesitated, her thumbs hooked into the sides of her plain white cotton panties. Should she take them off?
She’d used to get regular massages from an excellent massage therapist called Helga back when she worked at The Palms. Considering all the chopping, stirring, mixing, kneading, and heavy lifting that went on in a commercial kitchen, therapeutic massages were a must. But she had always kept her panties on and Helga was a woman—which made her feel more comfortable and less vulnerable.
Then again, she hated to draw attention to herself by looking different from the other women in the room. What if they looked at her underwear and realized she wasn’t from Yonnie Six after all and threw her out? She very much doubted any self-respecting Yonnite Mistress would be caught dead wearing white cotton Granny-panties like she had on.
I can always wrap myself in a towel and I’ll be lying face down the whole time anyway, she told herself. Reluctantly, she pushed the panties down and left them neatly folded beside her other clothing.
Wrapping a towel firmly around herself, she finally left the changing booth.
“Oh, there you are—at last!” Mistress Douchenbag was completely naked and apparently completely unashamed. She walked around nude as easily as she had when she was dressed—more easily, in fact, since she had finally taken off her three-foot-tall heels. “Come on,” she told Jillian. “Let’s have our tea before it gets too cold!”
Sauntering over to the bench, she lifted one of the steaming golden cups and inhaled deeply before tossing the contents back like some kind of a shot.
Jillian was a little more careful with her own tea. She sniffed deeply and then sipped carefully. She didn’t know how Mistress Douchenbag had managed to swallow such hot liquid without burning her throat, but she wasn’t about to repeat the other woman’s reckless actions.
“Hurry up, will you?” Mistress Douchenbag patted her bare foot impatiently on the marble floor. “We must get into the relaxation grotto so we can start relaxing!”
She certainly seemed like she needed some relaxation, Jillian thought, as she swallowed the rest of her tea. It had a coconuty flavor with some hints of spice, like an expensive chai that she actually quite liked.
“Good, now that you’re done, come into the rose-gold room so I can introduce you to my friends and we can finally get our massages,” Mistress Douchenbag commanded. “Well? Come on!”
She gestured Jillian through the far doorway and into the rose-gold room and then closed the door firmly behind them with a soft, hollow-sounding thud.
Jillian took a deep breath and clutched her towel tighter around her chest. There was no going back now.
8
The rose-gold relaxation grotto was made of white marble walls and flooring which was shot through with streaks of glimmering gold. From the ceiling hung long, broad strips of rose-colored silk. The strips were draped artfully around the room, partially separating the four massage tables which were arranged in a circle in the center of the large space.
Two of the padded tables were occupied with naked Yonnite Mistresses. Both of them were lying on their stomachs, their bare backs glistening with oil as two burly bodyslaves massaged them. One of them had long green hair and the other was completely bald except for an odd fringe of purple curls around the crown of her head.
“Oh, Twyla! It’s so good to see you,” the green-haired Mistress called. “And who is your little friend?”
“This is my cousin, Mistress Jillian, from the outskirts of Opulex,” Mistress Douchenbag said. “She’s rather shy, so please don’t be offended if she doesn’t talk much,” she added, which was rude, Jillian thought, but at least it saved her the trouble of making small-talk with the two Mistresses.
“Nice to meet you, Mistress Jillian—I’m Ylla Sollasolew and this is Hendris Tagalong. We’re both from the center of Opulex, but we’ve relocated here to Prius Six to be near the Market,” the green-haired Mistress said.