Susan awoke, she felt strange. She had had such vivid dreams and wondered if coming to An-Kil-Lye had been the right idea, the sights she had seen had clearly been playing with her sub-conscious. Her mouth felt dry and her body had a dull ache. She must have been drinking heavily last night. One of the others must have guided her back here, probably Wendy, she was always reliable. Susan opened her eyes, though the lights were off, the soft glow from lamps around the door gave her enough light to see by. One of them must have taken her clothes off, as she was now naked. She hoped she had not been sick over them. Then again she had only been wearing that dress and Wendy’s shoes, not too much to remove. Susan sat up and realised she was on the floor. Had she got up and slept walked in the night? Or had she been too much of a handful for Wendy to get into bed? There was a silver bowl of water next to the cushion on which Susan had been lying. That was odd. However, seeing it sent an alert through Susan’s mind, tying together some of the stray images remaining from her dreams. As she felt the touch of something slippery, firm, but not tight, around her neck, realisation hit Susan. She gasped in panic and jumped up. She did not get far as her leash had been lashed to the foot of Zyrenne’s bed.

Susan slumped back on the cushion. Her brain tried to deny this was real, to say it was some vivid dream, but ultimately Susan knew that was not the case. How could she have done it? It was all distant as if remembering from long ago. Susan knew she had had to have been drunk, that was the only explanation, but what were the implications? Had she really, truly ‘offered’ herself as a slave? Was this some kind of role play scene she had got herself into and how did she get out of it? She guessed her friends, if they had surfaced yet, would be worried and no doubt would be raising the alarm, but how were things done here on An-Kil-Lye? She guessed this domina must be influential, and she was the local and she probably would claim she bought Susan, that she owned Susan.

Susan tried to calm herself. The returning memories, however, raised new concerns. Had she really let this woman have sex with her? Had she really enjoyed it or was it simply a result of the drugs she had been fed? Did that explain why her relationships had not lasted, because in fact she fancied women? Why had it taken so long to find out? Susan felt overwhelmed by all the questions. She had to focus on the here and now. Getting some clothes and getting back to her friends whether by reasoning with this woman or by escaping was the priority. She began trying to get the leash free from her collar.

“Good morning, slave.”

Susan snatched her hands away from her collar guiltily as Zyrenne stirred from her bed.

“Er, erm, yes, er, mistress.” Susan stuttered as she climbed to her feet.

Zyrenne padded, naked to her pet and kissed her firmly on the lips.

“Weren’t you pleased by my attention last night?” Zyrenne asked, looking a bit disappointed at Susan’s lacklustre response to the kiss.

“Erm, yes, mistress.” Susan said, trying not to give away that in fact it had been the best sex she could remember, though the event itself remained a little hazy.

“But you’re not yet fully a convert to the female way?”

Susan did not know what to say, what Zyrenne said was true, but she did think it advisable to cause offence. “I enjoyed it.”

“Well, I suppose that is something. Usually the slaves I buy have been saving up for so long, and have been burning to become a slave that I have to hold them back from trying to screw me around the clock, but I guess it’s different with you, but maybe that’s what I need – a challenge.” Zyrenne smiled softly to herself. “Am I good enough a mistress to turn you into a slave that will fit in with the others I own and come to serve me as they do?”

Susan stood silently, wondering what such a change would entail. Part of her was excited at the thought, still aroused by the vision of the two leather-clad slaves walking at their mistress’s heel in the club, but another part just wishing she had never set foot on An-Kil-Lye.

“If you are going to be a true slave, and don’t start thinking there is any way back, as far as Ankilyan law goes, you have ceased to exist, you have a serial number, your commodity number, but that makes you no different to that chair or that lamp, I bought you as such. Anyway, if you are going to be a true slave then you need to be eased into the identity of a slave. Your name will be, ah, erm…” Zyrenne looked around the room as if for inspiration, she saw the tag on the beside table, ‘M/A/1A, yes, that’s it, you’ll be Maia. Maia, that’ll be your collar name, a slave’s only name. Forget any other names you might have had, that is now how you’ll be know.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“What is your name, slave?”

“Maia, mistress.” Susan replied reluctantly.

“Good. Now, Maia, help me dress and we will go and get you some proper slave clothes.”

“Thank you, mistress.” Susan replied, feeling suddenly aroused by the fact that now Zyrenne considered her a slave, she was free to put Susan into any of the erotic clothes she had seen slaves wearing. Susan guessed it was better than walking around naked, but she did wonder what effect dressing like that, being called by this ‘collar name’ would have. Then again, Maia was a nice name and it certainly seemed to fit more with the exotic nature of An-Kil-Lye than plain Susan. Zyrenne unlashed the leash and then removed it from Susan’s collar so she could move around freely.

“I think I will wear the chocolate brown outfit today with the gold disc jewellery.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan said, not certain whether it was good to play along, at least acting a servant was less embarrassing than being expected to play being this woman’s lover.

Susan walked over to the wardrobe and opened it. The interior was filled with shiny clothes, leather, rubber and glistening plastic, the footwear matched, generally long boots with sharp heels. Susan guessed that here on An-Kil-Lye someone like Zyrenne had no need for plain blouses or tracksuit bottoms or flat shoes, she could dress this exotically as matter of course. Susan looked through the various shades until she reached one that seemed appropriate and lifted down a hanger with a bolero jacket of quilted leather over a top of a russet shade that Susan first took to be satin, but as she touched it realised was polished rubber. Next to it hung leather jodhpurs of the same chocolate brown shade and quilting as the jacket. Susan lay them on the bed and returned to fetch the knee-length laced boots. Susan went over to the dresser and opened the small jewellery box. It did not take long for her to locate the disks of gold for Zyrenne’s ears and nose.

Zyrenne sat on the corner of the bed. “Well done. I guess this is the first time you will have dressed anyone much, Maia.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Well, it’s not hard, but it is a good demonstration of your servility towards me.” Zyrenne explained and lifted her arms above her head.

Susan took this as her cue and began sliding the top on to Zyrenne, helping her get her braided hair through. Then she took the jodhpurs and kneeling at Zyrenne’s feet guided her legs in then pulling the figure hugging trousers up. She took longer with lacing the boots, but soon had the grasp of it, and marvelled at the perfect shine, wondering who was responsible for doing the polishing. By the time Susan had finished Zyrenne had put on her own jewellery.

“Right, tidy up, we’ll go to breakfast and then some shopping for you, Maia.”

Susan baulked a little at Zyrenne describing the coming day, she still hoped that she would be released and the game would be over. However, maybe being out in public would be good, her friends or someone in authority might see her and get all this sorted out.

“What do you say, Maia?”

“Yes, mistress; thank you mistress.” Susan replied thinking that maybe she had been uncharitable and if this woman was willing to buy her some of these clothes, richer and more exotic than anything she had ever worn, then she should be grateful; they would be a unique souvenir of An-Kil-Lye.

Susan stooped to pick up Zyrenne’s discarded leather trousers from the previous night. The leather was butter smooth and made her fingers tingle at the touch.

“Maia, put those on.” Zyrenne commanded suddenly.

Susan hesitated, her throat going dry. Even after all the things she had been made to do in the past hours, putting on these clothes seemed to be a firm step.

“Yes, mistress.” Susan replied and began slipping her feet into the maroon trousers.

The leather slid up Susan’s legs easily, not surprising as she seemed to be much the same size as Zyrenne. The trousers were tight at her bum and across her thighs, but as Susan pulled them closed she realised that was intentional. Looking down it was as if her skin had become maroon, the leather held so close to it.

“That’s a lot better.” Zyrenne said cheerfully. “Let’s see you in the rest, it’ll be good to get an idea of your shape, before we starting picking outfits for you. Maroon’s not a slave colour, but we can get you the same in a bright red or electric blue.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan said quietly and began hunting for the rest of Zyrenne’s previous day’s outfit, trying to disguise the fact that wearing this leather against her bare skin and seeing it catch the light and hear it creak gently as she moved was a real turn on.

“I bet you’ve never worn rubber.”

“No, nor leather. It’s expensive.”

“Well, Maia you'll wear both, in fact they will make up your entire wardrobe.” Zyrenne smiled and snatched the rubber top Susan had retrieved and pulled it quickly over Susan's head.

Susan yielded as she felt the rubber against her bare breasts and she knew there was going to be nothing she could do to stop Zyrenne encasing her in these clothes. She let her arms be slid into the sleeves.

“The boots, I bet you’ve worn nothing much outside of running shoes and the occasional court shoes. Put them on yourself, I want you to get used to easing into sexy clothes and the effect they have on you.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan replied, partly wanting to say that she was already getting a good idea from the top and trousers she was wearing, but was reluctant to delay putting on the sexy boots.

Susan sat on the bed and slid one boot then the other all the way to her knees with the cuffs extending to touch the start of her thighs. Susan stood up and relished the feeling of rising on the high heels and how they forced out her leather-clad bum so prominently. She felt strong in these boots, strong and sexy, though as Zyrenne looked at her, she felt owned, almost as if she was doll being dressed up. Well, what was wrong with that? She had never looked so sexy in her life and it seemed the clothes were pleasing Zyrenne as much as Susan had to admit they were increasingly pleasing herself. Zyrenne walked over with the cropped jacket and Susan was unresisting as it was slid over her shiny top.

“Turn around, Maia.” Zyrenne ordered.

Susan slowly turned right round so that Zyrenne could see how she had quickly been turned into a woman of sleek leather-clad contours. Susan looked at herself in the full-length mirror and gasped as she did. Seeing a woman like this, dressed in these tight sexy clothes, with her hair in a high ponytail, she would have thought her an Ankilyan, maybe a mistress, well, until she noticed the collar. Zyrenne walked up beside Susan, and rested her own leather clad arm around Susan’s waist, and the pressure further reminded Susan how she was dressed. With her other hand, Zyrenne took Susan’s face and then kissed her lips.

“Better Maia, but you’re not there yet.”

Surprisingly Susan felt disappointment at that and yet again wondered how this was all going to play out, and what effect it would have on her for the future.

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good, now get out of all that stuff, I have a good impression of what you will look like in some decent clothes, but the shade’s all wrong for you. Slaves need something a bit sexier, though I think an outfit like this would be ideal when we’re travelling. Longer boots would suit, you can’t have too long boots for a slave.”

“I like the boots.” Susan said honestly, she liked how they made her feel protected and how they changed her posture into one that seemed to declare her sexiness.

“I’m glad, Maia as you’ll be wearing boots like that for ever more. I’m not one of these mistresses who keeps her slaves naked all the time. It’s important for the moment for you to know you are truly in my control, and to get you familiar with exhibiting every part of yourself in public, but I see slaves as models, mannequins, dolls, to dress. Clothes can so accentuate their sexuality; it is not just a collar that says you are a slave but the fact that everything about you, including the clothes you wear, are provided by me. Nothing shows that more than those being clothes most people, even here, would only wear in the company of their lover and also that they complement my own outfits, so, that in a glance, anyone can tell you belong to me.”

“I belong to you?” Susan wondered if this was the time to clarify what was truly happening.

Zyrenne smiled broadly, clearly pleased, “Yes, that is excellent, I am so pleased you said that, maybe turning you into the perfect slave is not going to be so difficult. I guess there must have been latent submissive tendencies somewhere in there. I don’t believe just getting drunk, or drugged even, would allow you to go so far if you did not really want it. You probably came to me a little early in your process pf coming to terms with your sexuality, but the concerns are going aren’t they? The true, sexy, shiny, slave inside is coming more and more to the surface.”

Susan realised Zyrenne had taken her question as a statement. She worried at the woman’s anger if she challenged it. Then again, was Zyrenne right? Susan acknowledged that she had been strangely excited by the sights she had seen on An-Kil-Lye, especially in the club, and if she thought about it, even going back to when she had seen Zyrenne herself on the video screen. Maybe some kind of destiny was working itself out here and she was foolish to try to resist it. Zyrenne took the leather jacket from Susan’s shoulders, and Susan realised that she did not have the luxury to deal with the bigger issues; more immediately she had to handle the situations she was now facing.

“Get out of those clothes Maia and then hang them up. Don’t worry I think you’re ready for some real slave clothes of your own. We’ll go to an SEB store I know and get you those long boots you want and a few other nice things.”

Susan’s reluctance to take off the clothes surprised her. It was not the thought of being naked again, she seemed to be becoming accustomed to that, it was more losing the sleek, truly Ankilyan appearance that the leathers seemed to give her and that she really felt she wanted to explore some more. In minutes though, Susan had slid out of the leathers and the rubber and put them away neatly in the wardrobe. Zyrenne attached the leash to Susan’s collar and as she was led to the breakfast room Susan pondered whether she would ever walk again not at this woman’s heel, then again it was probably better than being put in a cage the way she had seen a number of slaves when she had first arrived. Or was she wrong about all this, was it not a compliment that someone valued her so highly that they wanted to leash her so she did not run or was not snatched away; so that she could be paraded as a valuable item, worthy of being looked at in all her glory? Susan certainly knew a number of her friends who certainly would not pass muster being led naked into a room of strangers, and she felt some pride in the fact she could pull it off.

The breakfast room was not busy, there were a few tables with single guests at each of them. All but one had a man or woman on the floor beside them. Susan realised that having an accompanying slave was a real status symbol here. Given that in Masterton, she had yet to see a hotel or a club which only let in Ankilyans, having a slave in tow instantly marked out the locals from the visitors. Then again, were they all authentic, or were some playing at it? Susan wondered if it actually mattered. For now, however she had reached this situation, she knew it would be from a cushion on the floor and not a chair that she would be eating her breakfast.

Susan lowered herself to the comfortable cushion on the floor without arguing. A bowl of milk and some cereal was brought to her and put down on the floor. She knew it would be a challenge to eat with her hands and anyway from the other slaves around she knew the expected method is to lap it up like a cat, and all food for slaves was likely to be of a size suitable for that. Susan guessed that there was an ulterior motive too, in that surely it must strengthen the slave’s tongue. Susan had soon finished her food but from her location on the floor could not see how far Zyrenne had progressed.

Susan looked around the room and watched a female slave with long golden tresses, dressed in clothes that appeared to be of shiny black plastic: a bustiere, tight shorts that barely covered her buttocks, fine fish-net stockings that ran into over-the-knee boots. Having finished her food the slave was sat up in a kneeling position, her booted legs spread as if her sex was up for inspection, looking attentively at her master and following his hand with her tongue as he offered her treats from his table. Susan wondered if she would ever become so passive, so unthinkingly obedient. Presumably that was what Zyrenne expected of her, but Susan could hardly envisage it, she had too much independence for that. Susan watched as the master finished his meal and his slave rose behind him. As she walked on the high-heeled boots, Susan could see how every step seemed like a sexual gesture and she felt guilty at having enjoyed wearing Zyrenne’s boots and even worse, giving her the impression that Susan herself liked such things.

“Domina Zyrenne.” The man said, stopping close to her table.

“Dominus Catullus, greetings.”

“I saw your interview last night, I heartily agree, and I presume that your visit to the auction was a success.” Catullus nodded to Susan.

“Yes, very much so. This is Maia, she is inexperienced, but I think you’ll agree, lovely.” Zyrenne said with genuine pride coming through in her voice. “Stand Maia, show yourself to the dominus.”

Susan hesitated, she looked up at Catullus. He was well groomed, with neat hair and clean skin; a man probably only five years older than Susan herself, wearing a collarless white shirt and black leather trousers. He was certainly different from the slobbish masters she had seen in the market, but Susan felt reluctant to show herself to him. Playing games with a woman was somehow different, to some extent not much more than an extended slumber party game, but to parade naked before a man was something different.

“Maia, stand.”

Susan shrank back, seeking the protection of the table.

"Slave, stand.” Zyrenne said more firmly.

“Do not worry yourself, I guess it is difficult for a female only at home with other females to exhibit herself properly before a man.” Catullus conceded.

“But a slave obeys.” Zyrenne contested.

Reluctantly Susan stood up, rather worried at Zyrenne’s tone. She turned in a rather desultory way, the pleasure in being described as ‘lovely’, had been entirely swept away.

“Very nice, a lot of potential.” Catullus said.

“Yes, I am taking her to ease her into something tight and shiny this morning, some proper slave clothes.”

“That sounds excellent, Cy always looks at