“You enjoyed that one.” The woman at the table said, looking up from the mirror in front of her.

“Erm, sorry?” Danni said as she lowered herself into the chair rather hesitantly.

“You were there quite a bit longer than the other ones.”

The woman, Madame Xerouvouni, the name came back to Danni, gestured at the dial of the grandfather clock behind her: it showed twenty past twelve.

“Was I?” Danni asked as the memories of where she was and what she was doing there came back quickly now.

“You know these links are not infinite. With time they break and you would find that what you were seeing would become your reality, one that I could not bring you back from. Though from what I have seen, by then, I guess you would be too busy to care.”

“I would have become … Syra.” Danni said, a little surprised.

“Yes, the beautiful, sensual sex-slave. Is that what you want? That future?”

Danni pondered it. She felt she was becoming pretty adept at reading the symbols that she saw in Madame Xerouvouni’s hypnotic visions.

“That one was me without Carl, but finding another man as my boyfriend, someone who I work with, most likely. In there,” Danni nodded towards the curtain she had just come through, “he was a slave like me.”

“Danni, you are reading too much into what you are witnessing. These are not analogies you are seeing, these are real experiences. They are bubbles of what you would become; who you would serve if you went back through one of the doors. Xylae is real and you are travelling back and forth to it. It is my abilities that open and maintain a bubble but also stop it going further.”

“Erm, okay.” Danni said.

The clairvoyant seemed to be growing irritated that Danni was not understanding the ‘rules’ of this hypnotic performance. Danni found that she remembered far more of the last one and imagined that was because she had stayed there longer. It meant she quickly felt aroused as she recalled all that she had been and done. Now she was eager to get back into the hypnosis and experience some encounter like the one she had just come back from. She was going to have to get Amanda and the others in here to see their own ‘futures’. She imagined it would not only be her who envisaged herself having some very good sex.

“Yes, I understand that.” Danni said, hoping to placate Madame Xerouvouni so she would let her step through another door without hesitating.

“We can’t have you simply getting stuck in a scenario which might not be the right one for you. Those who step through are always much more valuable to the other side if they fit well into their new role. You can see that, I am sure.”

“Yes I can.” Danni responded, wondering if perhaps she had expected a little too much from the woman now that she seemed to be falling back into the standard lines of a clairvoyant about ‘stepping through’ and ‘the other side’.

“What kind of future would you like to try for the next one?” Madame Xerouvouni said calmly, indicating that she was satisfied with Danni’s answers.

Danni pondered the question for a few moments. “Well, I suppose a lot of this has been about, you know, settling down, sticking with one guy. What if I didn’t do that? You know, while I’m young, went out with whoever I fancied, someone I might meet in a club or something.”

Danni smiled a little mischievously: she hoped that this kind of scenario might get her the quick sex she had enjoyed in the last one.

Xerouvouni seemed satisfied with the answer. “Certainly, Xylae has ample room for women like that, as you will see if you go through that door.”

Danni was up quickly from her seat, heading to the curtain that was just to Xerouvouni’s left. She pulled it back briskly and pushed at the door, stepping through with a real sense of anticipation.

“There you are, Jilail.” A woman in her later forties, dressed in a long dark purple velvet dress said as Danni stepped forward.

Danni looked down at herself, trying to orientate herself to this role of Jilail. This time her skin was the terracotta tone that Xerouvouni herself had. Her skin glistened as if it had been coated in oil. Quickly Danni saw that she had on a pair of dark maroon leather boots, reaching to cover her knee but tapering lower at the black. She wore tight shorts and a bra top that held her breasts snugly. She reached with a hand clad in a fingerless leather glove to feel the collar of the same material at her neck. She could feel her hair bound into a long plait swaying on her naked back and bringing it over her should she saw it was a bright russet shade.

“Lady Tasya, is the other slave ready? They are waiting to lower the cage.” A younger woman with pale blonde hair, dressed in a similar, dark blue dress came in behind the woman in purple.

“Yes, Calina, she is ready. Jilail, go with Calina.”

Danni found herself obeying, wondering what kind of situation she was heading into now. She was curious as to what this cage was that was going to be lowered. What would it be lowered into? Danni followed Calina. As she did she noticed that she wore a strange combination of clothes. Calina was seemingly formal in the long skirted dress, but it was tightly corseted satin giving it a sensuous feel. From the glimpses of the patent boots that Danni caught as Calina walked, it was clear they had a high platform long heel. Perhaps this was what courtiers wore in this Xylae; perhaps it signalled something particular about this one.

Suddenly Calina stopped in front of a door. She turned so that she could run her eyes over Danni’s body, or the Jilail version of it she was in now. Danni was a little impatient to see herself in a mirror, but guessed she had to be content with what she could see of herself. She was certainly not displeased by the sleek muscles of this body which seemed firm and strong, but sexy too.

“Yes, Lanli made the right choice to have you perform at the party, Jilail.” Calina said.

Danni wondered if this courtier was turned on by Jilail. Looking at her, Danni imagined there was a nice firm body beneath all that satin and she could easily imagine herself enjoy releasing Calina from it. She could envisage the courtier becoming aroused at playing with the ‘forbidden fruit’ of someone else’s slave.

“They are waiting for you, Jiliail.” Calina then said abruptly as she opened the door and ushered Danni through it.

Danni stepped inside and found herself in a large room dominated by a spherical cage. It was lined with black leather cushions. In it already were three women, of differing shades from a pale blonde one resembling Calina to a black-skinned woman that reminded Danni of the slave she had become the first time she had stepped through one of Xerouvouni’s doors. They wore skimpy leather clothes like her own, the colour of the leather matching their skin tones. The trio were writhing all over each other stroking, licking, fondling each other’s body, groaning and panting as their hard breasts and juicy pussies were aroused. Seeing this scene, Danni felt the urge to submerge herself into it and began walking towards them. From somewhere below came the sound of music and chatting voices. Danni began have an inkling as to what was going on and the part she and the cage of slaves was going to play in it.

“You must be Jilail.” A plainly dressed male attendant came from the side of her; Danni had been paying too much attention to the three women to notice him.

“Yes, yes, I am erm, Jilail. I’m Jilail and I am supposed to be in the cage.”

As Danni said those words she felt very good as if somehow she was properly easing into the character that fitted the body she was wearing. She was happy to leave Danni behind and here to become Jilail. Danni wondered what kind of future this Jilail represented. She guessed it was a life of one-night stands in which she slept around with whoever took her fancy.

“Good.” The servant gestured towards the cage and, needing no further prompting, Jilail strode towards it.

A small set of steps stood by the cage. Danni quickly mounted these and clambered through the entrance and inside. The three women broke off their erotic play as Danni entered. Now they focused on her, playing with their bodies, gesturing for Jilail to join them. Jilail was hungry to be among them and quickly she dropped on to the cushions and crawled across to the trio. Behind her the cage door was closed, Jilail knew there was no escape, but she had no desire for escape anyway. To be confined here with these three, to be just like them, was perfect. In moments the three other slaves crowded around Jilail and she was soon in the writhing mass of breasts, flesh and tongues, her pussy was licked as she fondled others, their bodies a circle of delight as they slid over each other. Distantly Jilail heard a mechanism being worked and had a sense of the whole cage descending. Soon the air seemed different now it held the scents of a mixture of candle smoke, wine and hot bodies. Yet, Jilail was mainly unaware that the cage had been lowered into a huge ballroom, she was far more concerned with which was the next woman she was going to play with. Dimly, as time passed, however, Jilail became aware of people standing around the cage and chatting, sometimes commenting about the slave women inside.

Jilail found herself performing all the harder, stroking at her shiny body, grunting and moaning loudly as fingers and tongues teased her nipples and thrust into her pussy; she had found small slits in the leather of both her bra and shorts, giving access to her breasts and sex for her fellow slaves. Jilail loved having her mouth filled with the soft flesh of one of the other women, barely bothering to see which it was, just licking and sucking until she heard gasps indicating she had brought another orgasm.

Suddenly there was a ringing of a bell that snatched back Jilail’s attention. Quickly the four slaves disentangled themselves and hurried to kneel in a line in front of the door to the cage. A man in a high ornate hat and flowing robes was consulting with another who might have been the attendant who had shown Jilail into the cage. Around them were grouped a score of people in flowing ornate robes of a full spectrum of colours. Some wore satin, some velvet and a few, leather. Capes and canes, ostentatious hats and jewels were displayed across them. Now the door to the sphere was opened and in turn, each of the slaves was gestured to exit by the hatted man. Once out of the cage they were leashed by the attendant who handed them over to one of the assembled throng. Away, off across the room, in the midst of which some partygoers continued to dance to the music coming from the gallery above, Jilail saw another sphere. This one was disgorging male versions of herself and the other slaves. In the women’s cage Jilail was last to be called. She stepped down from the cage and it was closed behind her. In moments it was being reeled back into the gap in the ceiling. Jilail was certain its cargo of slaves would replenished as often as was necessary to satisfy the lusts of all gathered down here.

“Lanli wants this one, herself.” The official in the hat said as he consulted his list. “Calina can you take her?”

“Yes, Sanjor Berentell, certainly.”

The attendant handed Jilail’s leash to Calina who rather tentatively led the slave through the press of people. With the two cages now lifted clear of the room, more of the partygoers appeared to be dancing, and as they reached the side of the room, Jilail saw others indulging in the buffet. However, in alcoves round the room, she saw slaves like her being used in all kinds of ways by courtiers. Some couplings had even attracted a small audience. Jilail realised that she had actually enjoyed performing sexually to spectators. Her focus, of course, had been on her fellow slaves, but she realised that knowing they were being watched had added a delicious frisson which she hoped she would soon be recapturing. Jilail wondered where Lanli was. Calina seemed to know the direction and soon they were walking down a narrow corridor leading from one side of the ballroom and then up a flight of stairs. Moving away from the bustle of the party, Jilail felt a little disappointed, but consoled herself, that perhaps, Lanli had a private performance to a select group, in mind.

“In here.” Calina said, stepping quickly through a door.

Jilial followed obediently. The room was hexagonal, with stone walls and no windows. It was lit by flickering orange light shining through grills on the wall and from the ceiling. Into one wall was set a wardrobe. A large rug dominated the floor and on it was a broad, ornate leather upholstered couch.

Calina closed the door behind Jilail and locked it. Then she reached to unclip Jilail’s leash. She dropped it to the floor and, grasping Jilail’s face, pressed her lips against hers. Jilail responded automatically to such attention and soon the pair was locked, their tongues toying, their bodies pressed tight against each other. Then Calina broke away. She was breathless and her flushed face showed her excitement.

Jilail wondered what was supposed to happen now. Was Calina supposed to warm her up before Lanli came in? Was Lanli watching, concealed in some hidden space behind the walls? Was Calina in fact supposed to be doing this or had she mischievously snatched Jilail, intended for Lanli, and instead, brought her here to use herself?

“Jilail, I know what I am doing is wrong. You are assigned this evening to Lanli, but I just had to… I had to do it. I could not deny myself any longer. And you, you are so perfect, I knew that you had to be the one.”

“Erm, yes, mistress.” Jilail responded rather uncertainly.

“Oh, it is not your fault, there’ll be no blame on you: I will take all responsibility. Lanli is so busy this evening that I imagine she’ll forget anyway. She has so many slaves passing through her hands she will not miss one she has yet to meet. And I, well, I need you so much more. You’ve got to help me do this.”

“Do what mistress?”

Now Calina looked at Jilail intently.

“I want, no, I need, to be like you, to be a slave, a sphere-dancer, if only for an hour. I need to be like you, to feel like you, even just for a short time.”

To Jilail, she guessed it was not wrong to go along with what Calina wanted. She was a courtier after all, and it seemed that all she was planning was some sexual play and surely that was why Jilail had been brought to the party.

“Yes, mistress, I will obey.”

“Well, to start, don’t call me mistress, I am a slave just like you. Call me Zarlee, that is my collar name.”

“Erm, yes, Zarlee.”

Jilail’s response seemed to please Calina, she smiled broadly. Jilail closed again and Calina yielded to more kissing, but then pressed Jilail back.

“Not yet, I must change. I must be just like you.”

Calina went over to the wardrobe and slid back the wooden door. Inside hung a rail of leather clothes just like the ones Jilail wore. Pairs of boots matching the colour of the clothes above them stood neatly arranged along the floor of the wardrobe. Calina went quickly to the final set of white leather clothes and brought them and their matching boots over to the couch. Given her colouring these certainly seemed the suitable outfit for Zarlee. No, of course, this woman was Calina, Jilail reminded herself. However, she realised the closer this woman came to looking like a slave, the more Jilail thought of her by that collar name. She guessed that fitted well with what Zarlee wanted.

Zarlee sat down and took off her patent boots. They looked very sexy and Jilail guessed that they had been a sign of the kind of life Zarlee had been seeking. She stood again and quickly began unlacing her dress. Jilail came over to help her get out of it. In a couple of minutes she was clear of the satin and slung the dress over into the wardrobe, almost as if she never expected to wear it again.

“Please plait my hair, just like yours.” Zarlee said with an almost pleading expression; she began to remove the pins which held her blonde tresses in place.

Jilail did as Zarlee asked and as the hair was undone it fell far down the woman’s back. Jilail guessed it was far longer than a courtier would have grown it, but surely that had been the point and now Zarlee was able to reveal that her hair was like that of a slave. Deftly Jilail began to plait it. Zarlee gave her a silver cord to tie it off at the end. She stood, smiling and Jilail felt that already this woman was well on her way to looking properly like a sphere-dancer slave. Zarlee lifted her undershift clear of her body, pulling her hair through and so stood naked. Her ivory skin looked wonderful and Jilail knew it would be shown to its best by the white leather clothes she was about to put on. First though, Zarlee crossed back to the wardrobe and moving the panel door revealed some drawers standing inside. From one she produced a jar of oil, from another a white leather collar. She came back to the couch, opened the jar and began to rub the oil on to her body.

“I’m sure you have done this a thousand times, Jilail. For me it is a special treat.”

Jilail was sure that she had done and Zarlee was unresisting as Jilail took the jar from her and began to rub the oil into her skin. Zarlee simpered as Jilail finished up on her naked breasts and held Jilial’s hand in place, throwing her head back and gasping in clear pleasure. Eventually she released Jilail’s hand and she finished her task. Zarlee looked herself over and clearly satisfied turned to the clothes. In minutes she was into the bra-top and shorts then sat to slide into the white leather boots. Then she stood, turning herself around in front of Jilail as if for inspection.

“Zarlee, you look wonderful.” Jilail said sincerely.

Zarlee looked a little coy at that, but smiled. Jilail felt pleased that in the place of the smartly dressed courtier was this shapely, sexy slave. She knew that if they left here now, no-one would question that Jilail was not walking with one of her fellow sphere-dancers.

“I must thank you, Jilail. Come, sit on the couch.”

While Zarlee had yet to fully master how slaves spoke, Jilail was more than happy to comply, having an inkling of what Zarlee intended. She sat down and Zarlee came to kneel in front of Jilail, spreading the dusky slave’s legs so that she could slide between them. In moments Zarlee’s tongue was penetrating through the slit to lap energetically at Jilail’s pussy. Jilail let her head loll back and allow the pleasure from Zarlee’s eager attentions to sweep over her. Zarlee had a lot to learn, but there was no denying that her efforts were pleasurable and Jilail looked forward to the fun they could have together as Jilail tutored this new slave. Soon Jilail was rising to orgasm. The sound of the door handle being turned and the key falling from the lock, jolted both Zarlee and Jilail. However, those moments of tension were enough to push Jilail over the edge into the depths of a wonderful orgasm.

The door was unlocked and a woman in a dark shade of green stepped in. Though she was dressed like a courtier, Jilail knew this was a slave-mistress, not Lanli, but one of her competitors, Oksana.

“Ah, this is where you have got to Jilail. I heard Lanli making a fuss about your ‘disappearance’, but, unlike her, I am more adept at finding missing slaves. And here you are with … No, I am wrong. This is interesting. An interesting game, Calina. You look very authentic; and so clever to conceal the true length of your hair, wonderful. I wish more courtiers had the imagination you have shown. Anyway, I am sorry to say, Jilail needs to return to the party. If Lanli cannot find her it could sour proceedings. Jilail, come.”

Jilail obeyed and stood, but Calina rested a hand on her booted calf as if to stop her.

“Take me with her.” Calina said to Oksana, sounding rather desperate.

“You know that is not possible, your future is here as a courtier.” Oksana said.

Calina looked a little crestfallen. “Yes, I understand.”

“Of course,” Oksana said, as she stepped up to Calina, “if you really want to be a slave, then that is easy to arrange.”

Calina looked up into Oksana’s eyes as if questioning what the woman was going to do. Oksana rested her hand on Calina’s forehead then closed her eyes. Calina looked entranced, then slowly lowered her head, with Oksana’s hand resting on the top of it. Then her breathing became heavy and soon she was panting and gasping.

“Yes, yes, yesss.” Calina’s voice trailed off as she shuddered and grunted; Jilail imagined Oksana had brought about an orgasm in her.

“Zarlee?”

Jilail wondered how Oksana knew the name Calina had given herself and guessed the slave-mistress must have been listening for far longer than she realised. Perhaps it was a name Calina had used before in another game. This time, however, things had gone beyond play and it would indeed be her true collar name from now on.

“Yes, mistress.” The woman who had been Calina responded.

“Stand.”

Zarlee obeyed. Jilail could see that something had been changed within her. She looked at her body in a new way, running her hands over her bare flesh and the leather clothes between, clearly enjoying the feel of both. She looked at Oksana with clear gratitude, but also, Jilail could tell, an attitude of servility. The hurried, uptight courtier was gone, replaced by another slave like Jilail.

“Zarlee, return to the main room. Make yourself available for whoever chooses to use you. Come to me in my chambers at dawn and tell me of all your experiences.”

“Yes mistress.” Zarlee responded and sauntered from the room, clearly excited to be able to fulfil her proper role.

Jilail felt pleased for Zarlee that she had been granted what she truly desired and had become a lovely slave. She hoped there would be a chance for the two of them to play together again. Jilail’s mind filled with thoughts of her tumbling in the large sphere cage, entwined with Zarlee.

“Now, we need to get you back to Lanli otherwise I’ll never stop her whining that I have stolen you off her.”

Oksana crossed to Jilail and retrieving her leash re-attached it to her collar. Then she strode towards the door that Zarlee had just left through. Led on her leash, Jilail followed, hoping that once Lanli was found, she would be permitted to return to the party. Oksana opened the door and stepped through, Jilail came on obediently behind.