“Let me see your script,” the green girl said, taking it from her before Cassie could hand it over. She scanned it, looked Stone up and down, and then nodded. “No, this is right. The Wardrobe Madam must have decided that your body-slave’s other clothing was already acceptable so she only had you order him a chest harness to wear with it—that’s all.”
In fact, Stone was already dressed like a body-slave. He was wearing his black leather trousers and boots and he was bare-chested with only the fake black pain collar around his neck. Cassie supposed the black leather chest harness would look excellent on him—it would strap across his broad chest in a wide X, emphasizing how muscular he was.
“That’s why you didn’t get boots with your outfit either,” the green girl continued, nodding at Cassie. “Because the ones you’re wearing will go just fine with the outfit the Wardrobe Madam had you order.”
Cassie was wearing the most modest dress she could find—a long blue one with a V neckline that Kat had packed her. But she’d decided her tall, black Mistress boots were appropriate to wear with everything here—since she was, after all, trying to stay in character. She wondered what kind of outfit the Wardrobe Madam had ordered her to go with the boots.
It didn’t take long to find out.
“Over here are the dressing rooms.” The green girl was already pulling her to the far-left side of the room where there were rows and rows of stalls like a changing room at a department store. Actors were bustling in and out of them, dressed in various costumes.
“Take a dressing room, Mistress,” the green girl said. “If you need help getting into your costume, call me. I’ll be out here putting the harness on your body-slave.”
Cassie nodded and took back the pile of fabric from Stone before slipping into one of the stalls.
Inside, it was very much like a dressing room back home on Earth. There were hooks on the wall to hang clothes, a small bench in the corner to sit on, and a long mirror on one wall—apparently they didn’t waste money on 3-D viewers in here.
Cassie slipped out of her long blue dress and turned to the pile of fabric—which was almost all black.
“Oh no,” she groaned, when she saw what she would be wearing. The black leather skirt wasn’t so bad—though it was extremely short. But it came with a demi-cup leather bustier and a pair of crotchless panties. Ugh!
Cassie wondered if she could ask for another costume—one that was less revealing. But she was, after all, doing porn. She supposed she was lucky that she wasn’t completely naked.
Reluctantly, she began putting the outfit on. The hem of the leather skirt just barely covered the panties, but the bustier was a hopeless case. It supported her full breasts like a shelf but left her nipples completely bare and there wasn’t a single spare scrap of fabric on the costume to hide them.
“Excuse me, Mistress, but are you ready to come out?” the green girl called from outside the dressing stall. “I fear you and your body-slave will be late for your scene!”
“Coming!” Cassie took one last look in the mirror. She had worn her long black hair down today and it flowed around her shoulders like a shiny silk waterfall. She felt exposed when she looked at herself in the exotic outfit she was wearing, but she also felt…
Sexy, Cassie thought, looking at herself from all angles. Wow—I really do look sexy. Maybe I should embrace this—lean into it. It would certainly fit my character as a Yonnite Mistress.
The idea was appealing. She looked and felt how she had wanted to look and feel back when she’d taken those classes with Madam Electra. It was a little embarrassing—okay, a lot embarrassing—to walk around bare-breasted. But many of the other actors were wearing less than she had on and Stone had already seen her naked the night before, when they were practicing touching each other.
The memory of how they had “practiced” together made Cassie’s cheeks heat but she lifted her chin and told herself that it was all part of the mission. She felt much more comfortable performing today’s script than she would have been if she and Stone hadn’t practiced.
The scene they were about to play was also part of their mission. She could either hang her head and mope around trying to cover herself and feeling embarrassed about her exposure, or she could hold her head high and revel in her own beauty. Cassie knew which choice Madam Electra would have picked—she had always carried herself like a queen.
Cassie intended to do the same.
I’m going to play the hell out of this part and this scene we’re about to do, she told herself. I have to if I’m going to keep my cover intact. I am a rich, successful Yonnite Mistress and I have no shame about showing myself off.
She had been planning to cover her exposed front with her blue dress when she came out. But instead, she draped the dress over her arm and stalked out of the stall with her head held high. She heard a low gasp from Stone and turned to see her partner’s piercing blue eyes sweeping over her.
“Mistress,” he said hoarsely. “You look…amazing.”
“Thank you, Stone. Here—carry this, will you?” She handed him the blue dress she’d been wearing earlier and looked at the green girl. “Now where do we go?”
“This way to The Cave, Mistress,” the girl said, nodding respectfully.
Thirty-Eight
The Cave looked a lot like a BDSM Dungeon to Cassie. It was a large, dark stone opening that really did appear to be a cave located in a special area of the palace. At the front of The Cave, various bondage equipment was scattered around and several actors were being whipped or spanked by several other actors. There was also a man with dark blue skin crawling on his knees around the long, skinny legs of a woman with pale purple skin, who was dressed pretty much like Cassie herself was.
“Lick my boots!” she commanded the man, who eagerly complied with her directions, dragging his long green tongue from the toe to the top of her shiny leather boot.
Well at least Gozeriam didn’t write anything like that for us to do, Cassie thought, as she watched the boot-licking.
The green girl led them to a long desk just inside the entrance of The Cave. The desk was so elongated, it had five seats, all filled with strange little men. They were all identical with large, round, bald heads and sharp, pointy ears. The little men reminded Cassie a little of Keebler elves, except they weren’t wearing hats and baking cookies.
In front of every little elf-man was a glowing monitor, being projected in the air above them by a tiny pinprick of light on the desk. Each monitor showed a different scene—all of them with distinct BDSM overtones. All of the little men appeared to be busy watching the scenes and then talking rapidly into tiny microphones glued to the sides of their mouths.
“These are The Cave Directors,” the green girl said to Cassie. She tapped the little man on the far right of the desk on his shoulder. “Excuse me, Director One, I have the actors for a scene you are to direct.”
“You do, do you?” The little man turned with an irritated look on his round face. “And who might these be?”
“This is Mistress Cassandra and her body-slave, Stone. Here’s the script.” The green girl shoved it in front of him. “Written by his Slimefullness himself,” she whispered, looking awed.