Life of a Toy: Masquerade, pt. 1
Emilen is introduced to the festivities of the yearly masquerade by her mistress. Let's just say, she'll have to hang around.
Life of a Toy: Masquerade, pt. 1
Rebecca Slater
Emilen woke up to a gentle nudging from Sivana. Her eyes opened, wincing as sunlight beamed into the room through the large main window. “Up, up!" The wolf said, gently nuzzling the vixen's shoulder. “We have a lot to do today."
Emilen sat up in the bed, her shift falling softly around her as she shed the blankets. It was her second day in Lady Altimore's ownership and it was clear her new mistress was eager for another chance to play with her new toy. “What are we doing today, Sivana?" She asked, groggily.
“We're going for a walk, then heading down to the arena to meet with Lord Markwin." Sivana said, she laid her head in the vixen's lap for a minute. “Then we've got to get ready for tonight."
“Tonight?"
“Masquerade ball," The wolf said, fighting going back to sleep herself. “It's the start of summer, and it's an annual tradition here at the Altimore Estate. Lord Markwin asked me to meet him beforehand to plan out the evening. He's running for Chancellor, and wants to use this event as a handshaker." She sighed heavily, “
“Handshaker?"
“It's a term we use. It means a chance to mingle and inspire people to vote for you." Sivana finally sat up again. She crawled out of the bed and headed into the ensuite. “We have a couple of elections coming up. Thankfully, I won't be due for another few years yet."
Emilen thought for a moment, slowly getting out of bed herself. “Does the Chancellor decide where your military goes?"
“Not completely." Sivanas came out, carrying her clothes on her arm. She threw the garments into a hamper, and moved into her closet. “The primary decision comes from the Minister of War and Strategy. They were usually a soldier so they're trusted on these matters."
“Is that minister going to be at the masquerade tonight?" Emilen's gut felt queasy.
“Lord Cafolk?" Sivana emerged from the closet with garments in hand. She looked pensive. “I suppose he will."
The one responsible for her new life was going to be there tonight. Emilen wouldn't know what to do when she saw him. She felt bile and rage building up, but her thoughts were interrupted by clothes passing into her arms. Sivana looked at her expectantly. The vixen realized what she was meant to do. She laid the clothes carefully on the bed, making sure they stayed flat. She knelt down, holding the pair of panties from the pile. Sivana stepped into the panties, but before Emilen could pull them up the wolf put her hand on the back of her head. Her piercing eyes gazed at the wolf, her face an expression of dominance and rule. Emilen felt her head being pushed towards the crotch of her mistress. The vixen's hand released the panties, and cupped the wolf's firm ass cheek. Her tongue moved out as her mouth opened.
“Good, you know your place well." Sivana said, a small smirk on her face. She shuddered as the vixen met her lower lips.
Emilen's tongue flicked in and out of the satin folds. She hated to admit it, but she liked the taste of her mistress, despite the lack of her freedom to say yes or no to performing the task. The wolf was sopping wet, shivering slightly, her pussy quivering and pulsing beneath the exploring tongue. Eventually, the wolf pushed the vixen gently away. “Did I do something wrong?" Emilen said, fearing punishment.
“No, but if we keep this up we'll be here all day. We have to get a move on."
The vixen once again began pulling up the wolf's panties. The silk slid up her fur smoothly. She buttoned the latch above the wolf's tail. For reasons unknown, she kissed the wolf's navel as she did so. Silvana looked shocked for a moment, but that expression quickly dissolved into one of pure satisfaction. She stroked the vixen's hair slightly. Emilen stood, picking up the dress, sliding it onto her mistress and tightening the strings on the back. With a release of her hair, Sivana looked every bit the noble again. The vixen brushed the wolf's hair, and dressed her in stockings and heeled boots. The look was completed with a wide brimmed blue hat. Sivana drew up to her full height, Emilen's mouth dried, her gut felt fluttery. “Bertholt," Sivana said, her voice piercing, but not shouting. “Bring the collar and lead. We should get going." The beagle brought a gem-studded leather collar, and a pink lead into the room. Emilen wondered how long he had been waiting to do so. When Sivana turned her back to him, he gave a sneer to the bed slave. His face returned to its regal, haughty expression of apathy not long after. He handed the collar to Sivana, she clipped it around the vixen's neck. “It's not too tight is it?"
“No, Sivana." She was surprised when her mistress backhanded her across the face.
“That is no way to address your mistress." The wolf leaned in to attach the lead, her voice whispered into Emilen's ear. “You have to get used to calling me Mistress Altimore when we're not alone. I'm sorry, but I have to maintain an image."
The vixen held back tears. Sivana took the lead, and began to walk, gently tugging Emilen behind her. The slave was unsure if she'd ever be used to the wolf's capricious moods. “Yes, mistress." She said, in barely a whisper, her eyes down. She followed reluctantly.
They took a stroll around the block, two armed slaves following behind them, another pair leading the way. The vixen felt humiliated as the nobles of the neighborhood would stop Sivana on her path and insist on looking her over. She'd known the routine, it was trained into her at the hospital. Stop, open your mouth, tail up and slightly aside, legs parted, hands at your sides, eyes down. They would sneer, evaluate her like cattle, compliment her mistress, and then they'd be underway again. The walk took around an hour, by the time they got back to the front of the estate. Bertholt sat in the driver's seat of a fine car. It was dark blue, and polished to perfection. The beagle wore a black hat, dark glasses, and white gloves. Sivana opened the door, and ushered Emilen inside. Finally, the wolf sat down in the car and pushed a small button. A window rolled down between the front and back of the car. “The arena Bertholt, you know the way."
“Yes my lady." The beagle responded. The window rolled up and the car was underway.
They passed through the wealthiest parts of town. Past theaters with carved angels on the side, holding golden trumpets. They passed restaurants with large patios, and waiters dressed in black shifts scurrying around, trying desperately to appease their customers. With each moment, the vixen felt resentment growing. Her own nation had its wealth, sure, but it was nothing like this. Even in the capitol. How could a nation that had everything want more and more with each passing day? How was it fair that people like this lived in luxury, when once free people now served at their heel. She looked at Silvana, who gazed out the window boredly. The wolf had been raised in this world, not knowing anything of hardship. Her house and fortune were old money. Yet, puzzlingly, she seemed innocent. As if she only knew the ways of her ancestors, and went through the motions of what was expected of her. Mixed feelings arose in the vixen. Especially since she didn't know why she felt drawn to the woman sitting next to her.
Emilen lost track of where they were, staring at the wolf, lost in her thoughts. She snapped back into reality as a large shadow passed over the car. They were driving into a tunnel. Guards watched as the vehicle pulled forward, further into the depths. They nodded, and waved the traveler's forward. Eventually, they came to a stop next to a large rolling door. The door rolled up, and revealed a sand pit, with a stair off either side of the opening. Towering decks of bleachers rose out from the massive pit. In the middle Emilen could see two people fighting. “We're here." Sivana said, as Bertholt opened the door.
The lady stepped out into the bright sun, and climbed to the first layer of seating. She followed the circular path around until she came across a cat and a husky sitting on one of the benches. The cat, a dark masked siamese, looked up at the wolf. “Sivana, so good to see you!" He beamed, rising from his seat to embrace the wolf. “Come, sit my darling. Was the ride okay?"
“It was smooth, and didn't even catch a single traffic light." Sivana said, kissing the cat's cheek. Sivana sat, and the cat went to follow before his eyes caught sight of Emilen.
“I see you got yourself a little gift." Lord Markwin said. Once again, the wolf was subject to inspection. “She seems like good stock." He sighed, “Can't say the same about this one though." He gestured to the arena.
A large raccoon stood, facing down a slender squirrel. They danced in a circle together, the squirrel's fists raised before his face. Both were naked, covered in sand and sweat. The raccoon swung out, striking the squirrel in the face. Blow after blow pushed him back towards the spectators. “GET YOUR GUARD UP!" The husky shouted, “DON'T JUST LET HIM PUMMEL YOU, FIGHT BACK!"
Distantly, Emilen could see the glint of hormone regulators in their arms. She knew immediately, they were both slaves. Slaves forced to fight for amusement. “I spent a lot of money on this one." The cat said, in a voice of regret. “From the recent batch, supposed to have been a captured soldier."
As the squirrel backed up to the edge of the arena, Emilen could see a tattoo on his back. A small circle with a hexagon in the middle. The symbol indicated he was a member of the Church of Akasha, a pacifist. Likely the squirrel had been a soldier, serving as a medic, physician, or battlefield cleric. It was no wonder he was getting beaten savagely. “DON'T LET YOURSELF GET PINNED LIKE THAT!" The husky barked, shaking her from her thoughts.
“I will say, Coach," Markwin smirked, “You got a fine stallion of a fighter there."
“Thanks, got him cheap too. Some idiot tried to bind him to a kitchen. Had to be repurposed when he bit his master. Poor Gavin, took three days to regenerate that eye and he'll still have scars."
“How much you want for him, I can probably pay double what you spent."
“You kidding me, a trainer and fighter like that? Once in a lifetime find, couldn't possibly let him go." As they talked so casually, the cat occasionally throwing out a number and getting shot down, the vixen could hear blow after blow landing on the squirrel. “Just end it, arena style." The coach said. He didn't shout but his voice could be heard by the raccoon, at this close proximity. The large brute nodded, grabbing the squirrel around the waist and dropping him to the earth.
The raccoon pinned the squirrel down, raising his tail to the side. The squirrel let out a loud scream and begged for the raccoon to stop. The pleas fell on deaf ears, however, as the raccoon lined up. He thrust into the squirrel abruptly. His massive cock slid in and out, unlubricated. The raccoon pinned the squirrel's face into the sand, muffling his cries. The bigger man began thrusting faster and faster, letting out feral grunts as he did so. Finally, he pushed the squirrel down. White cum leaked from the smaller man's ass as he lay on the sand, spitting blood and moaning pathetically. The raccoon simply wiped the remaining cum off on the squirrel's tail, and turned to face the bleachers. “Attaboy." The coach said, throwing a towel down into the sand. “Go wash off, Markwin will have someone grab that thing in a moment." He said, gesturing to the squirrel.
“Tell you what," Markwin said, looking at the arena, “if my squirrel loses in the next arena battle, I'll take it as your failing." The cat's face was stony, and grave. “So I'll make you a wager. He wins, you get all the profits from one of my factories for a year." The coach's head snapped around to stare at the cat, jaw slack with shock. “If he loses, however, I take the raccoon, and we repurpose the other."
The husky pondered on this for a while, before reaching out a hand. Sivana finally, after looking on with little interest, was addressed. “I'm sorry that took so long to wrap up," Markwin said, sitting on the bleacher again. He waved his hand, and a group of men dragged the squirrel, who had passed out, off the arena sand. “I had hoped my business here would be finished by the time you arrived."
“It is more than fine," Lady Altimore said, shifting a little on the hard seat. “You have waited on me more than once, it's only fair I return the courtesy."
“Did you bring the guest list?"
The wolf produced a small sheet of paper from her handbag. “I did indeed."
The cat pulled a pair of spectacles out of his shirt pocket and sat back down. He read for a moment, and passed the paper back. “I see, very exclusive. Though honestly, it could stand to be slightly more so."
“Who would you exclude among that list?"
“Wickersham, if I'm honest. Can't stand him."
“He can bring votes from over three states though, and you need that support."
Markwin nodded his head back and forth for a second in thought. “I suppose you're right." The cat sighed, and looked at the ground. “Suppose I'm gonna have plenty of steam to blow off tonight in the Chamber." He looked right at Emilen. “So I suppose tonight won't be a total drain."
The cat and the wolf sat discussing the party, arrival times, decorations, catering, making any last minute changes they thought of. Finally the wolf stood, stretching. “I think it's time I get back home and make these changes concrete." She tugged the vixen's lead lightly, and the two were underway again. They returned to the car, and started the drive home. “Tonight is going to be a good night." Sivana said, after a while of silence. “I suppose I should fill you in on the details of your evening."
“And what might those be, mistress?"
“You will spend your evening in what's called the Chamber of Pleasures, but I'll explain that more in a moment. To start, once we arrive at home you will be given to Penelope and the maids' care. You will be undressed, brushed, combed, and finally bathed. After, you'll undergo a series of preparations that are… unpleasant. You'll be given a bowel prep treatment, and a cleaning of your rectum. Your teeth will be brushed, and a scented powder will be brushed into your fur." Emilen didn't like the sound of this at all, something seemed off. “Finally, just before the guests arrive, you and some other slaves that will be delivered to the house will be taken to a room off the main hall. This room will be designated the Chamber of Pleasures. There, you'll be trussed up, your immobilizer active, and rigged for any of the guests to use as they see fit." Sivana paused for a second, “within my limits, of course." Finally, the wolf sighed and quietly whispered “I'm sorry about this." Yet again, the wolf had shifted from being authoritarian in nature to soft and gentle. The vixen wished, desperately, she'd make up her mind. “Also, during tonight, as in any public event, you'll go by your designation 22514."
Emilen found herself wishing Bertholt would either drive slower or take the scenic route home. Anything to delay the promised future. However, the beagle drove home in the most efficient and timely way possible. Exactly as promised, Sivana handed her over to the maid team. They took her, a little roughly, up the stairs and into the bathroom. They pulled off her shift, unlocked her chastity belt, and set to work. First, a team of maids set out with brushes. Three maids descended on her. One stood on a small stool, and brushed her hair, another stood behind her focusing on her tail, while a third began work in the region of her chest. They worked quickly, silently, and efficiently. Penelope the ferret maid, once the brushing was complete, stepped forward. She handed the vixen a cup and ordered her to drink. The liquid within was chalky and hard to swallow. Emilen nearly vomited it back up, but the look on the ferret's face made her swallow harder. The other three maids bowed out for a short time, as Emilen fell to the floor with debilitating stomach cramps. The following bowel purge and enema were awful, and an experience she would never forget. Finally, the other three maids returned and lowered the vixen, under Penelope's supervision, into the hot bath. They took small scrub brushes and rubbed, and scrubbed, and brushed until the vixen was red under her fur. Finally, they took her out, dried her off, and made her stand in the center of the bathroom. Penelope handed them several small jars of fine blue powder. “You're going to need this." The ferret said. Emilen could never remember hearing her voice before. “It coats your fur in a pleasant scent, but also prevents the smell of semen from coming off of you. It also prevents bodily fluids from sticking."
The maids dutifully surrounded the vixen, covering every inch of her in the blue powder. They brushed it in, added more, and brushed it in again. Finally, Penelope clapped her hands, waved them away, and motioned for the fox to follow her. The two women descended the stairs, Emilen just noticing how chilly the mansion could be. Penelope delivered the vixen to Sivana. The wolf smiled appreciatively, and waved the head maid off. “Doctor, she's ready!" Sivana called over her shoulder.
The same doctor Emilen had seen in the hospital walked into the room. He indicated a bed near the center of the “Chamber of Pleasures". Emilen laid down on the bed, and her legs were placed in stirrups. The doctor produced a speculum from nearby, and slipped it into the vixen. He probed, prodded, and checked the fox thoroughly. Even drawing a small sample of her blood. With a quiet nod, he hooked an IV of fluids up to her hormone regulator and turned to Sivana. “I am satisfied she is fit for this task Lady Altimore," he produced a sheet of paper, “Please sign here, and certify that my exam was up to your standards."
“Thank you Doctor, a pleasure as always." Sivana signed the sheet, hugged the man, and let him go on his way. “As for you," She said, turning to her slave. “The riggers for the ceiling and the other slaves have already arrived. A few more minutes and you'll be in position for the first guests."
Several men and women in black, collared shirts entered the chamber. The hung chains and motors from the rafters of the room. The chains terminated in a series of harnesses. The black shirted workers brought slaves into the room, a variety of male and female slaves. The black shirted workers strapped the slaves into the harnesses, and gave the rigging a test. The immobilized slaves hung limply, like grotesque marionettes. The motors hummed quietly as they lifted the trapped forms into the air, about hip height. Finally, it was Emilen's turn. They immobilized the vixen, strapped her in, and raised her off the ground. They forced her mouth open and placed two rubber blocks into her teeth. One sat on either side of her mouth, leaving it open to most dicks. They rigged up a small, thin hose from the ceiling, and latched it shut. Small beads of slick lubricant pearled at the end of the tube. Once Emilen was secure, one of the hands politely waved Sivana over.
“We got your special request order for this one." The monkey nodded. “Just as you asked, we used Rigiflex harnessing. Push of a button, the harness goes stiff and locks her in place." He demonstrated, pushing the button and attempting to swing the cable. It didn't move. “Push the button again, however, and it unlocks to a flexible state." He demonstrated again, the vixen swinging in the harness. “Now your guests can use her however they like." He said, putting his hands on his hips proudly.
“Thank you so much, you and your crew have done an excellent job." Sivana said, signing another piece of paper and passing it back. “I've included a bit above what you quoted. You and your hands deserve it."
The monkey looked at the sheet, grinned, and thanked her. Then, he took his leave. Bertholt was next into the room, standing stiffly, he sniffed the air and gazed around at the helpless figures in bondage. “Your guests have started to arrive, my Lady."
“Thank you Bertholt," Sivana wiped her hands on a towel, having checked the lube dispensers were flowing properly. “I'll be out to greet them in a moment." Sivana slapped the Vixen's ass and headed out the door into the main chamber of the house.
“Very extravagant," a boar said, walking into the Chamber of Pleasures. He was arm and arm with a rhino. They were both dressed to the nines. He wore a fine tuxedo, well tailored to him, white gloves, and a domino mask. She, likewise, was in finery. She wore a multilayer dress, black silk gloves, and a plague doctor mask fit around her horn. “You've outdone yourself, Sivana."
“Yes, I think this will be your best masquerade yet." The rhino said, looking at the array of slaves.
“You say that every year, Patricia." Sivana said, with a small kiss to her cheek. “But, there is one thing I'm especially proud of this year." Sivana made a small gesture towards Emilen. “22514 here was an exceptional purchase, one worth every penny." She stood behind her slave, spreading the folds of her vulva, and showing it to the couple. “Look at this, pink, perfect, and ripe for the taking." Sivana leaned on the boar, as the rhino inspected Emilen. “And she's only been used once."
“You don't say?" The boar said, a smile on his tusked mouth.
“Yes I do, Lord Cafolk." The wolf stroked his back gently, leading the rhino and the boar to Emilen's face. “And I would be so honored if you and your wife took the next go."
“First of all, young lady, please call me Lyle." The boar said, running his hand down the small of Emilen's back. “Second, are you sure? This is a critical breaking in period for a new toy like this. Awfully kind of you to let other folks play with a good of this quality before you've even gotten much use yourself."
“I insist, besides it'll get you nice and relaxed for the party. Can't have you tensing up, especially if you're going to poll for Markwin as you said."
“Fair enough my dear, be out to the rest of the party soon."
“Hopefully not too soon," Lady Cafolk teased her husband.
“I will see you in a short while," Sivana said, with a bow, “I will let you know if too many guests arrive in your absence."
The boar and rhino gave cordial thanks, and began to pace around the suspended vixen. “I say, Lyle, do you want the front or the rear of this one?"
“Oh the front please." He said, opening Emilen's mouth. “I'd like to save the rear for later."
Emilen wished that her mouth weren't forced open. How she would love to bite down. Instead, the cock, sweaty from the summer heat, worked its way into her mouth. She felt herself gagging, it was awful. The musk coming off the boar was overwhelming. She closed her eyes, but a slap from the boar made her open them again. The rhino stood behind the vixen. “I guess dear, I'm what the kids would call 'horny.'" the Rhino smirked. She lifted her dress to reveal a strap-on, similar to that which Sivana had worn the night before. The rhino unhooked the tube and sprayed lubricant on the shaft. She stroked the toy slowly, shivering as she did so.
There was a small beep, and the rig the vixen hung from began to move. The rhino slid into Emilen's captive ass, as the boar thrust further in. As he pulled out, he swung the rig back into his wife, who moaned lustily. They took turns, bouncing the vixen back and forth between them, each swing bringing her closer either to the waiting cock, or the metallic strap-on. The two pumped and thrusted as she hung, helpless, between them. She was paralyzed, a doll, little more than a warm place to insert one's self. She let out a small, muffled sob, but was rewarded with another slap to the face. Eventually the boar's grunting got more intense. His thrusts became wild and erratic, and then it happened. The thick, horrid tasting cum shot into her mouth, coating the back of her helpless throat. She choked as she inhaled. The boar pulled out, and wiped his tip off on her fur. “Well my darling, have your fill. I'm spent for now. See you out in the dining hall, I'll save you a spot next to me." He tipped his hat, put his cock away, and zipped his fly.
The rhino also bore down, thrusting harder and harder, eager to join her husband at the festivities. “I'll be right along." She grunted, “in fact you could say I'll be cumming right along." She let out a little laughter that turned into a shuddering moan. She put her dress down, and walked to join her husband. Emilen made eye contact with another slave, tears streaming down her face. The other slave, a male otter, just shook his head as much as his paralyzed body allowed. No, this night of “festivities" would not permit tears. She would have to bear the punishment silently, and without crying. She languished as cum dribbled down her chin, and the last of her tears left her cheeks.