11. Phoebe

11

PHOEBE

"N o, no, no—that won't do at all!" Their consultant, Lady Scornfoot, frowned as she looked Phoebe up and down.

"What won't do?" Phoebe looked down at herself, mystified. She was dressed like most of the other women in the spaceport. It was a busy place with lots of people moving through it. The floor was some kind of shiny black stone which had been scuffed by many feet. The ceiling above was arched and someone had thought it would be nice to make it look like a fake sky with purple clouds and a red sun twinkling in the center.

Most of the women in the spaceport were dressed like she was—with one exception. Almost everyone she saw was wearing elaborate gold or silver jewelry around their breasts. It wasn't easy to see because it was mostly hidden by the long strands of fabric, beads, and feathers, but there were flashes of it from time to time.

What made this breast jewelry most noticeable was the fact that a leash was usually attached to it. Everywhere she looked, Phoebe saw men leading their women around by a long gold or silver chain attached to their breasts. It was a shockingly misogynistic display and yet, when she imagined Sirex leading her around like that, the idea gave her a shiver of desire.

"What's wrong with Phoebe's outfit?" Sirex asked Lady Scornfoot, frowning. "She is dressed like all the other women here."

"She has no breast harness—no nipple rings." Without even asking, Lady Scornfoot—who was the only woman not accompanied by a man in the entire spaceport, at least as far as Phoebe could tell—reached out and pulled the strands of Phoebe's top wide open.

"Hey!" Phoebe gasped, snatching at the strands. It was one thing to flash her mentor from time to time with a naughty glimpse of her nipples—it was quite another to have her breasts put fully on display in a public place where anyone could see them.

"Hmm, so your collar speaks the truth. You really are a virgin," Lady Scornfoot sniffed disdainfully. "So ridiculously modest."

"No, I'm not!" Phoebe denied. "I just don't want anyone but Sir touching me!" She felt an immediate flush of embarrassment as she said the words but they were true, after all.

"Well, you'll never get into the Emperor's palace wearing a white collar, I can tell you that," Lady Scornfoot said.

She was dressed modestly enough herself, in a long blue cloak that closed in the front and didn't show even a hint of skin. But maybe she had earned the right to modesty—after all, she was supposed to be one of the only women on the planet who had autonomy and social status in her own right, Phoebe reminded herself.

"What's wrong with a white collar? I don't want other males seeing or touching my woman." There was a low, possessive growl in Sirex's voice that sent a shiver down Phoebe's spine.

"Well then, you're never going to get into the palace and you certainly won't make it past Thruck. That's the Emperor's right-hand male, in case you didn't know," Lady Scornfoot added in a condescending tone. "He demands the right to inspect any female who will be in the presence of the Shining One, so that his Majesty's eyes won't be offended by ugliness."

"That's just rude!" Phoebe exclaimed. "Why does he have the right to judge people by their looks?"

"Because the Emperor gave him that right. And also because he has five eyes—three in one head and two in the other," Lady Scornfoot said.

"What? Two heads?" Phoebe asked.

"Of course. He's a two headed Trollox but it's the right-hand head—the one with two eyes—that you have to look out for," Lady Scornfoot told them. "The left-hand head with three eyes is completely mad and just hums and drools all day. Every once in a while, it speaks, but mostly in riddles that no one can understand, so you can just ignore it. It's the right head that makes all the decisions." She motioned at Phoebe and spoke to Sirex. "And it's the right head that's going to insist on inspecting your woman."

Phoebe could see her mentor was about to refuse so she spoke up quickly.

"So there's no other way to get to see the Emperor?"

"None. The only way to the Shining One—as we call our beloved Emperor—is through Thruck. I can't tell you how often I had to let him ‘inspect' me when I was one of the Emperor's favorites." Lady Scornfoot made a face. Then she straightened her shoulders. "However, it got me where I am today—an independent woman with a house and servants of my own. So it was worth it."

"This inspection—will he be content just to look or will he want to…to touch me too?" Phoebe asked.

"Well…" Lady Scornfoot gave her a speculative look. "You're clearly not from our part of the galaxy and you have lovely skin—all one color, too, which both Thruck and the Emperor like." (Lady Scornfoot had smooth, pale pink skin herself.)

"Which means what?" Sirex asked impatiently.

"Which means that he'll probably be content just to look. But you'll need a color changer for your collar so you can fit in with the rest of the Royal Court," Lady Scornfoot remarked. "Luckily, I have one you can use."

She reached into a pocket of her voluminous blue cloak and withdrew a small, flat disk about the same size as a quarter. It had a sheen to it that reflected rainbows around the vast room when she moved it back and forth. There was a silver clip on the back of it. Lady Scornfoot reached up and attached it to Phoebe's white collar.

"There—now you can have whatever color collar you want," she said. "Watch—green!"

The moment she spoke the color, Phoebe felt a slight vibration in the collar around her neck. Of course, she couldn't see it, but Lady Scornfoot nodded her head in apparent satisfaction so she assumed her collar must have turned green.

"So it turns whatever color you say?" she asked.

"Indeed. Try it yourself," Lady Scornfoot invited.

"White," Phoebe said and looked at Sirex with raised eyebrows.

He nodded.

"It's white again."

"See? It's so much easier and more convenient than changing collars all the time," Lady Scornfoot said. "I'd keep it on green if I were you while you're in the palace. Just be sure you don't turn it any other color. One of Thruck's favorite punishments for girls who displease him is to put a black collar on their neck and send them naked through the palace." She shivered. "It rarely ends well for them."

"How awful!" Phoebe remarked.

"Yes, it is, so be sure you stay on Thruck's good side," Lady Scornfoot lectured. "The other thing you're lacking, of course, is breast jewelry." She raised an eyebrow at Phoebe. "Do you have your nipples pierced?"

"Uh, no. Do I have to?" Phoebe didn't like the idea of piercing such a sensitive place at all.

"There are non-piercing harnesses you can buy—that stand over there sells some." Lady Scornfoot nodded at a large booth in the corner of the spaceport where a display of gold and silver jewelry was set up in the front. "But they might not pass Thruck's inspection," she added, just as Phoebe was feeling relieved. "However, you can try." She shrugged.

"I'm not interested in piercing any part of my female's anatomy," Sirex said firmly.

"Well then, you'd better take charge of her and see that everyone knows she's yours if you refuse to hang your charm from rings in her nipples," Lady Scornfoot told him.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't they know she's mine?" Sirex asked.

"Look at her—the way she walks and carries herself. She's standing in your presence. A proper submissive female should always kneel at your feet when you're speaking to someone else," Lady Scornfoot remarked. "And she speaks for herself much too much. When you're in the palace, she must speak only when spoken to and only to you. She must not speak to other males at all—no matter what they say to her."

Phoebe couldn't help the stab of irritation she felt. Yes, she wanted to submit to Sirex, but on her own terms. She didn't like someone else telling her to submit—especially not someone like Lady Scornfoot, who she was really beginning to dislike.

But Sirex seemed to take the consultant's words quite literally.

"Phoebe," he growled, giving her a stern look. "Why are you standing? Kneel at once!"

Immediately, her irritation faded and Phoebe felt a flush of desire wash through her instead, at his commanding tone.

"Yes, Sir," she murmured and knelt at his feet. The stone floor was hard and cold under her knees but she barely noticed. This was what she wanted from her mentor—a true D/s relationship. The question was, was he simply playing a part or did he feel the same way she did?

"Well…that's better at least," Lady Scornfoot sniffed. "If she acts properly and you get her a breast harness and lead her like a true Master should, she should pass inspection and be allowed to enter the palace."

"But I don't see why it's necessary for Phoebe to pass inspection at all," Sirex growled. "I'm selling wormhole technology—I just want to speak to the Emperor and see if he wants to buy it. Why does he or the Trollox you talked about need to see Phoebe for that to happen?"

"Having your own female on a leash is a mark of status—you won't be seriously considered as a male of worth unless you have her with you," Lady Scornfoot said. "Also, having a leashed female is a useful kind of currency."

"Currency? What does that mean?" Phoebe asked, forgetting she was supposed to be seen and not heard.

"Why, just what I said. For instance, watch those two males over there."

Lady Scornfoot motioned to a booth to one side of them which appeared to be selling some kind of savory pastry with a bright blue crust. Two tall men with mottled yellow-gray skin appeared to be arguing over the price. To one side a woman with pale pinkish-gray skin was kneeling quietly. She had on an outfit much like Phoebe's but it was made of blue fabric and silver beads and feathers.

"The buyer wants one of the pizzdoodles but he probably doesn't want to spend any credits," Lady Scornfoot went on. "So what does he do? He offers his female as a kind of payment."

"But she's wearing a white collar!" Phoebe protested.

"Yes, that makes no difference as long as her owner gives permission. Watch," Lady Scornfoot instructed brusquely.

They watched. After arguing a bit more, the two men seemed to come to some kind of understanding because the seller pulled one of the pizzdoodle pastries out of the case that was keeping them warm and handed it to the buyer.

The buyer took a bite of the pastry and nodded, then he motioned to the woman kneeling at his feet.

"Service him," he growled around the mouthful of food.

Without a word of protest, the woman rose and went around the side of the stall where the owner was standing. He twitched the long apron he was wearing to one side, revealing the horrifying fact that he wasn't wearing pants of any kind!

Phoebe's eyes grew wide—wasn't that some kind of health code violation? But things were about to get worse. The woman knelt in front of the owner of the pastry stall and pulled out his long, oily looking member—which was a dark blue-gray with yellow patches on it. To Phoebe it looked like a rotten banana.

The woman hesitated—she probably didn't like the look of the pastry dealer's dick either, Phoebe thought. But when her owner said, through a mouthful of pastry,

"Go on—what are you waiting for?"

The woman took the disgusting looking thing in her mouth and started sucking.

"Eww!" Phoebe muttered, looking away. "They do this kind of thing all the time? In public?"

"Everywhere and anywhere—the male sexual drive knows no limits and so none are imposed here on Salacious Prime," Lady Scornfoot said dryly.

"I won't allow Phoebe to do anything like that," Sirex growled. "She's mine —I won't have any other male touching or using her in that manner. It's disgusting and wrong to barter with a female's body!"

"Well aren't you just the most wonderful male to ever walk the planet?" Lady Scornfoot scoffed. "Fine, then be sure you have a good line of credit. And remember that some males prefer to receive payment in sexual favors."

"Then I won't deal with them," Sirex growled. "Phoebe is mine— no other male is going to touch her!"

"Well, have fun with that attitude in the palace," Lady Scornfoot sniffed. "And now, I believe I've told you everything I can. Get her a breast harness and go to the palace. Good luck with your business endeavors."

She turned on her heel and walked away abruptly, leaving Sirex and Phoebe there.

"Well, Sir?" Phoebe looked up at her massive mentor. "What next?"

Sirex sighed. He had a troubled look on his face, Phoebe thought, as though he might be having second thoughts about this mission. But he only said,

"Next I suppose we should buy you a breast harness, as Lady Scornfoot suggested. Come on." Reaching down, he took Phoebe by the hand and helped her to her feet. Then he looped an arm around her shoulder. "You'd better stay close to me," he murmured. "I have a feeling this whole spaceport is filled with Broken Ones."

Phoebe couldn't say that he was wrong. Now that Lady Scornfoot had pointed out the non-monitory methods of payment, she was seeing them everywhere. She was glad all over again that Sirex was with her on her first mission—it would have felt overwhelming alone, especially in a place where women were thought of as nothing but objects and possessions.

To be honest, she felt a little overwhelmed even with Sirex by her side, but she told herself to take a deep breath and get on with it. After all, as long as they were together, she would be fine.

She had no idea of the mess the two of them were walking into…or the way that it would change their relationship forever.