And the Dance of the Veils Goes On....

Well, I really haven't much time to write this week, but the story is still coming along nicely - in my head, anyway. Next week I should have more of a chance to actually write things down. In the meantime, as promised, here's a sneak peek at the opening scene. I suspect you'll think I'm even more of a tease after reading this!

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"slave."

i turned, though there were other slaves in the vicinity and none of us had individual designations. we all turned, as we were conditioned to do.

The speaker was a lovely young woman with long, wavy black hair; olive skin; and kohl-rimmed eyes half-hidden behind designer sunglasses. Lady Marina. i was not allowed to form opinions of the young women who commanded me, but i did notice a special tingle whenever this one looked my way. As she did now.

i placed my hands against my forehead, palms out, and spread them while bowing: the traditional symbol that my mind was hers to command.

She gestured me over and i knelt at her feet, crouching until my forehead touched the sand. "How may i please you, Lady?" i murmured, raising my head just far enough to see her face.

She stretched languorously in her lounge chair, slyly watching my mirrored eyes track across her perfect breasts and legs. "you like my body, don't you, slave?"

"Of course, Lady. You are beyond beautiful."

She touched a finger to her lips in teasing thought. "But do you like it because you're programmed to like it, or do you like girls *all* the time?"

i blinked. i had no way to process a question such as that, but obedience demanded a response. "Lady, i must apologize, but i cannot answer you properly as i have no memory of my life before internship. i do not know what my sexual preference was."

She reached to stroke my naked breast, a casual gesture of both ownership and affection. "I remember you," she purred. "Would you like me to tell you about yourself?"

i bowed my head. "Lady, you know i would not be able to process the knowledge. The nanites in my brain--"

She cut me off with a chuckle. "I know. you can't even hear your own name now, can you, -----?" A sound left her lips, but it made no sense to me, and i forgot it the instant i heard it.

A little thrill electrified me from clit to skull as i considered just how tightly my mind was bound. i had been a person once - and would be again, when my internship was over - but for now i was a nameless, will-less slave. And thanks to the wisdom of the Dominants, i reveled in every second of it.

It was not in me to question how much of my arousal was my own and how much was generated by nanites and chemicals. All i knew - all i was allowed to know - was that the Dominants did everything they could to make the population *want* slavery. Our Founders, whose Supreme Dominance was unassailable even hundreds of years later, had stipulated that no citizen be forced permanently into a role not of his or her own choosing. On the other hand, the world did run more smoothly with a pliant populace. And most jobs were best performed by workers who never grew bored or distracted or just plain lazy. So anyone who might be willing to entertain the notion of permanent submission was encouraged to do so by every means possible. Internship was the prime example. Every citizen had the chance to experience six months of total submission in his or her late teens. There were no exceptions.

Really, ours was the best of all possible worlds; the nanites assured me of this. The only truly unhappy citizens were those who lacked the will for Dominance yet feared the ecstasy of surrender. Oh, our Rulers made allowances for perversity both small and great; the Constitution demanded it. There were varying levels of submission available to the hesitant, and the truly deviant were always free to eke out their miserable existence far from civilized society. In fact, our Rulers had set aside a small continent in the southern hemisphere just for them.

The Dominants held all the power, and submissives who retained a bit of free will and who possessed the right skill sets could rise quite high; but it was those who gave themselves up completely to slavery who lived the happiest lives. The nanites assured me of this even as they kept me from questioning the idea. In fact, they *told* me they were keeping me from it, and then told me how good that felt. i had no choice but to agree.

Some day, roughly six months from now, i would complete my internship and be restored to personhood. Then I would decide whether permanent submission was right for me - and if so, just what kind of permanent submission. Or perhaps I'd realize (remember?) that I was a Domme. There would be no internship to help me decide if that were the case; Dominants just rose naturally to the top like the cream they were.

Anyway, right now i couldn't even *consider* the idea of being a Domme, nor did i want to. submission was absolute heaven.

Watching me, Lady Marina's lips curled in a charming smirk. "I'm going to grant you a favor, slave," she announced. "I'm going to let you oil my body." i bowed again in acknowledgement of the joined honor and command. Then i crept to the bottle of suntan oil and poured some into my palm.

my own skin, like that of all submissives, was impervious to the sun's rays. A silvery layer of epidermal nanites protected us from most forms of damage - and also marked us as being less human than machine. Only a Dominant (or an untested schoolgirl like Lady Marina) displayed Her or His natural skin to the world. A suntan was a mark of prestige.

As i slid my slave-marked palms across her body, Lady Marina plugged a cable into the tech-jack behind her right ear, pretending to ignore me while she absorbed her lessons for the day. i could tell, though, from the way her nipples rose beneath the tiny triangles of her bikini, that she was enjoying my ministrations. slaves were conditioned to notice such things.

The Lady's body arced into my hands, inviting them to close in across her chest. my programming steered me true, allowing me to anticipate her needs and meet them before she could even think to command me. my hands slid beneath the fabric of her top, gently massaging her breasts; then squeezing, kneading, gently tweaking her nipples.

my own body was on fire. my nipples, which had been stiff silver nubbins from the first moment of my internship, felt hard as diamonds now. my cunt was as slick as the Lady's oiled body, and my clit quivered with the kind of need a slave had no right to feel - or, at least, to fulfill - on her own.

Without warning, Lady Marina grabbed my right hand and plunged it beneath her bikini bottom, deep inside her snatch. She screamed as i began automatically to tickle her clit with my thumb while simultaneously plunging one finger, then two, and finally three deep inside her - in and out, in and out, more quickly than any mere human could have managed. Slave reflexes were augmented for just such occasions as this.

A whine built deep inside me as i felt the Lady approach climax. my only desire was to make her come, yet this desire burned so brightly within me that completing it would quench my own flames, too. That was the way of slavery.

Lady Marina flung her arms and legs around me, bucking her hips hard around my hand and shrieking like a siren.

i had serviced other girls at the Academy before now, but never any who had reacted as strongly as this. Pleasing my Lady so thoroughly made me feel as though i were exploding from the clit outward. Only the nanite reinforcements held me upright as orgasm turned my legs to jelly.

Eventually Lady Marina looked up at me and grinned. Her sunglasses had slid all the way to her chin, and her warm brown eyes sparkled with glee. "-----," she said, using my name again, "you are absolutely the best slave ever. Absolutely perfect."