Party Night
I leaned over Maverick's shoulder with a brush in my hand to check on his headfur in the mirror. "Is it too fluffy?"
Maverick responded absently, concentrating on his own reflected face, "It's perfect, hon. Don't jostle me now, I'm trying to get my mascara just right." It's true. My very masculine roommate uses mascara to make his eyelashes look thicker and longer. He explained it to me: "People get nervous treating me as a sub, because I'm a predator. The eyelashes make me less threatening. It worked like a champ when I was cruising the clubs."
He finished, batted his eyes at his reflection, and nodded, straightening up. He looked at me. "Wait, your tie is crooked." He spent a moment fiddling with my tie. "Watch for that when you put it back on later."
I looked over my roommate and sighed. "You look so sensational! I've got to stop looking. I'll drag you to bed and we'll forget about the party."
Maverick grinned. "I'd love to..." He winced. "Stop saying stuff like that. You're making me drip, and these slacks have to last me all night." Maverick had opted for a somewhat outlaw look: bright red knit shirt with a really deep v-neck, black leather jacket open almost to his navel, dark brown slacks that matched his fur color, brushed calfskin boots. The tight slacks emphasized his long legs, as if a guest might otherwise not have noticed them.
I looked down at myself. "At least you get to wear briefs. Don't you think I could wear undies with this?" My outfit consisted of a green, long-sleeved shirt, brown vest, a tie loosely around my neck, a pair of knee-length khaki shorts, and shiny black shoes that were as comfortable as slippers, and almost as easy to take off. I had the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, the top two buttons of the shirt undone. The shorts were thin enough that I'd violate every dress code there ever was if they got wet, and tight enough to reveal the shape of everything they were supposed to conceal. The shirt picked up my eye color and somehow managed to not clash with my fur.
Maverick shook his head, brushing his hair. "It would spoil the line. And if... no when you get an erection, it will be obvious. The guests want to see the shape of your cock, not your BVDs."
I looked out of the bathroom as a knock sounded on the hallway door. "Who?"
"S'me." Shaw opened the door and looked in. "I just finished..." His eyes suddenly popped wide open, looking back and forth between Maverick and me. "Wow!"
Maverick and I looked at each other and grinned. I said, "Well, that's another vote in favor." I turned back to Shaw. "What's up?"
Shaw shook his head as he tried to recover his chain of thought. "Oh, I was saying I'd just finished with the equipment check." Shaw was going to be Lucas's monitor for the party. "And I've been working with Sequoia all afternoon. He really wants to impress everybody when he hangs tonight. I feel bad about cancelling out on you, Maverick. Would tomorrow at one be okay?
Shaw had been coming by every few days for a practice hanging session with Maverick, and had in turn been working with some of the other boys, including Sequoia and his roommate Garrett. It would be natural for Sequoia to turn to Shaw for last-minute advice. I had my own group of boys I was advising, and some were working with Maverick himself, the ultimate source of all technical wisdom. A number of the boys still found Maverick a little intimidating — no longer for anything Maverick said, verbally or with body language, but just for his sheer virtuosity of technique.
Maverick nodded. "I want to keep the focus on your desperation for now, more than the sex moves. That's really your strength. I love how you've added on that quivering with tension when you're stretched out, trying to reach down with your toes."
Shaw beamed at the compliment. "Thanks." He saw the clock by the bed and gasped. "Oh, I'd better get going. I asked Lucas if he'd do one more walk-through before the party starts."
I nodded. "Sure. Good luck," Maverick following with "See you later."
I'd already done one last walk-through to satisfy Zuchter, wandering randomly around the main party hall and my assigned bedroom in the pavilion, unable to think of anything more interesting to say than "Testing one-two-three" for the microphone check.
Maverick turned back to me after Shaw left. "We've still got an hour to kill before the first guests arrive. Any ideas?"
I giggled. "Lots, but we can't do them. Even if we just kiss it'll mess up our face fur. Let's just watch some TV."
Maverick nodded and clicked the remote. "You still worried about your brother?"
I sighed. "A little, but if he can get past you, his whole sex drive must be out of whack. You can recognize him, right?"
Eric had revealed an unknown drawing talent at the level of a professional police sketch artist as I had described Andrew to him, and, after studying Eric's work, Maverick had said he thought he could spot Andrew no matter how dense the crowd became. "If I see anybody who comes close to looking like the drawing, I'll look at you, and you give me a little nod if it's him. So I won't get sidetracked by the wrong guy. I just hope he's there at the start. I'll try to hang onto at least one chit as long as I can, but I can't be rude if somebody wants one."
"I know. But if he's not there right at the start, he's probably not coming to this one. If he wants to make sure of seeing me, he'd know he has to get there early."
"Yeah." He reached out for my hand and we sat together on our bed, trying to concentrate on the television.
I beamed as I entered the main hall, hearing several quick intakes of breath. I'd waited in line in the hallway as the boys entered one at a time to begin mingling with the guests. My heart was fluttering, my eyes flicking quickly to both sides, but I concentrated on smiling and making eye contact with the nearest guests, trying to trust my subconscious to set off alarm bells at the first perception of Andrew.
I felt excited and, in spite of my worries, safe within the confines of the Academy. It occurred to me that this was the first time any outsider had seen me as a Hanging Boy, and I felt buoyed by pride.
The hall looked a little different from my earlier walk-throughs, when Zuchter had tested out the equipment that would track and record my movements and conversation. The walls were hung with festive, colorful crepe draperies and balloons. Music, very muted, was coming through hidden speakers.
In the very center of the big room, there now stood a standard hanging platform, with a noose dangling above it. The platform was enclosed in a cage of vertical metal bars, spaced about eight inches apart, with a square base about six feet on a side. When Sequoia was hanged here later, guests would be able to watch him from any side. The cage would stop over-excited onlookers from touching him as he dangled.
I felt a little self-conscious, knowing that Zuchter was watching me now from his tiny monitoring station near the pavilion, but I tried to push it out of my mind.
The reaction that had greeted my arrival was repeated, magnified, a moment later, and my smile broadened. I knew, without looking behind me, that Maverick had entered. The gasps were quite audible this time.
Above the general background noise, I could hear Jack's delighted laugh. I managed to catch Jack's eye, and Jack flashed a grin at me, before turning back to the guest he was talking to.
An elegant-looking tommy — a Thomson's gazelle — dressed in a dark blue, expensive-looking and businesslike skirt and matching jacket, in her mid-thirties by my estimation, stepped in front of me, somehow without seeming rude, and smiled at me, saying, "How are you tonight, dear?"
I quickly riffled through all my memories to try to decide whether I'd ever met the tommy. I flashed her a friendly smile. "Just got here. I'm trying to get used to the noise. I'm really sorry, have we met before?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maverick take up the position we'd agreed on, watching for any signals. Maverick raised his eyebrows questioningly. I gave him a smile, a small shrug, and a tiny headshake. I hadn't seen Andrew yet. Maverick quickly became the center of a small circle of guests. I noticed that I, too, was starting to attract a small crowd, with three males and another female standing politely within earshot, letting the tommy continue her conversation with me. There was something about the tommy, an aura of authority, that left others reluctant to intrude.
The tommy smiled again, and took a sip from the drink she was holding. "My turn to apologize. I should have introduced myself and not left you looking puzzled like that. My name is Grace Millan, and I know your name is Wynn, but we've never met. I own a small company that sub-contracts with your father's corporation. Your father has a picture of you on his desk, and the last time I was there he told me you'd been admitted to the Academy. I can tell you he was every bit the proud father." Grace beamed at me.
I was thrilled at the idea that my father might be telling others about my Academy career — it had somehow never occurred to me that he would. "Thank you for telling me, ma'am. Now, as flattering as it would be, you can't convince me you came tonight just to see me."
To my surprise, the tommy laughed nervously. I suspected she wasn't self-conscious very often. "Well, I do come here once or twice a year. Usually I'm doing it to window shop, with the Third Year boys mostly, to see if I might want to buy one. But I did think it would be nice to see the boy in the picture come to life. And I have to tell you," Grace's eyes did a quick up-and-down on my body, giving a slight head-shake in wonder, "The photo doesn't really tell the whole story. I know the Academy encourages physical fitness but..." The up and down look again. "Haven't you only been here a couple of months?"
I laughed. "I guess it just seems longer, ma'am. Especially in the gym. But yes, they do like us to get in shape."
Grace gave me a smile that looked thoughtful. "I'm picturing what you'd look like in three years."
My eyes flew open. "Do you think you'd like to buy me, ma'am?" It hadn't occurred to me that I might work out a purchase so far in advance, but being bought by someone who worked with my father had some attractions.
Grace shook her head, looking wistful. "I'd love to wait for you, but I don't think I'll be able to do it. I've been grooming my executive VP to take over the company, and he'll be ready in about another year. I'm looking forward to being hanged and skinned at a big company party — no date set yet, but I don't think I want to wait more than about another eighteen months. I'm thirty-eight, so I shouldn't really wait much longer than that."
I hid my disappointment, and the thought returned that I needed to get rid of my chits in a hurry, before Andrew appeared. I smiled again at Grace. "Well, if you did come here hoping to meet me, we probably ought to spend some time together, ma'am." I arched my back just slightly to thrust my pelvis forward, and looked directly into Grace's eyes, my lips slightly parted. It was as direct an invitation as I was allowed to give. The hosts were instructed not to invite a guest to a private room in so many words, but hints and body language were within bounds. I suspected that I'd learn how to be a little more subtle about it over the next three years.
Grace's lips parted. Her voice suddenly breathier, she responded, "I'd like that. Do you have a chit left?"
My eyes lit up. My first customer! I reached into the shallow pocket of my shorts and pulled out a chit. "Just got here, ma'am."
Grace accepted the chit, her fingers lingering on mine. "See you in about fifteen minutes?"
I nodded. "I should be ready then. I'll be in room seventeen."
Grace nodded and lifted her drink. "I'm going to freshen this up. Shall I get you one?"
I shook my head. "Oh, no ma'am, I'm fine." Grace no doubt knew that the bar had non-alcoholic drinks for the hosts, so there was no problem about getting a drink, but I wanted to turn my attention to my other patiently-waiting suitors. As Grace gave me another nod and walked away, I turned to the ocelot on my right. He was young, close to Andrew's age, tall and good-looking. The wolf on my left was older, perhaps forty. It surprised me that the younger male could afford a membership, but perhaps he'd come by it the same way Andrew had. I favored him with a smile. "Hi, I'm Wynn. Have you been here before, sir?"
The ocelot grinned. "A few times. Nice way to spend an evening. I'm Stan." He held his hand out for me to shake, his gaze drifting down to my crotch.
With polite nods, my other admirers drifted off to chat with other boys, clearly realizing I would be completely booked in a moment. I turned to the wolf. "And you, sir? Are you a regular?"
He was shorter, about my height, with glasses and thinning hair. He looked like an accountant, but since he was here, he must have a higher-paying job than that. He smiled at me, stiffly but earnestly. "Oh yes, very much so. My name is Benjamin." I shook his hand. "I come to get to know the current students — window shopping, as Grace put it," he looked briefly back at the tommy, "And I do enjoy watching the hanging — particularly the First Year boys, though their shows are much shorter than the boys with more training. Their lack of experience in itself is very charming, and there's a poignancy to their performance that I often miss with the older boys." Though he did seem to be looking over my body, he did often meet my eyes, in contrast with the ocelot. "You look quite intelligent and responsible, if you're not offended by a snap judgment. I take it I should not expect to see you hang anytime soon?"
I laughed, thoroughly charmed. "I don't think so, sir, though I guess you can never be sure. I do expect to graduate."
He glanced back at Stan, who grinned and turned to speak to him. "He obviously has two chits left. Why don't you go ahead and take the earlier time? I don't mind waiting."
Benjamin looked pleased. "That's very decent of you." He turned back to me. "If that's all right with you?"
I beamed at them and reached into my pocket. "Oh, sure. I'm looking forward to getting to know both of you better." I glanced over at Maverick and grinned, giving him a thumbs up gesture. Maverick grinned back, and turned to the meerkat and the doe remaining with him. I waved at Stan and Benjamin and started threading my way through the crowd toward the hospitality rooms, and I heard Maverick saying, "Listen, I only have one chit left, but if one of you can be patient, I promise I'll look for you at the start of the next party. Is that okay?" I was too far away to hear the response.
Grace was already on a sofa in the waiting area as I walked into the hospitality suite. I smiled at her. Grace returned the smile and, unasked, handed me the ticket she'd received at the cashier's window. I bent down and gave Grace a friendly kiss on the cheek, and held out my hand. Grace took it and rose, and followed me to the inner room.
I stopped in front of the bed, and started, "What would you like me to..." I stopped suddenly and blinked, as Grace had, without hesitation, strode over to the cabinet in the wall beyond the bed, pulled out the toy drawer, and got out a leash and the whip. I took a quick second look at Grace's ticket. Yes, Grace had paid extra for unrestricted access to the toys.
Most guests simply wanted straight sex. However, the Academy provided, for the small percentage of guests with more exotic tastes, a selection of various types of toys, which any guest was welcome to use for an extra fee.
My stomach fluttered suddenly. I'd had no clue, when talking with Grace at the party, that the tommy would be interested in something other than a sex partner. I looked at the whip, and bit my lip. It wasn't one of the really bad kind, of course, and was intended purely for recreational D&S. It sported, at the end of a stiff but somewhat flexible shaft, an attachment resembling a small fly swatter. I'd tried it out on myself in preparation for the party. It was stingingly painful, but had little potential for inflicting any serious or long-lasting damage. It was the sort often used by masters and mistresses on their slaves if they preferred them without permanent markings.
I had to trust Zuchter to be watching my monitor closely. Zuchter's job here, in addition to observing and learning, would be to make sure the session didn't get out of hand. Of course, Grace would have her membership revoked if she actually injured one of the boys, and might even be criminally charged if the damage was bad enough, as she was only renting me. If things went that far, she might even be executed, since she was a prey species. But it was often hard to remember things like that during the heat of passion.
I had to rely on the knowledge that such injuries were extremely rare. It had been five years since a member had been kicked out for hurting a boy. And fifty years since one had been executed. And Grace's familiarity with the room made it obvious she had done this before, and evidently nothing bad had happened. I breathed a bit easier.
Grace faced me and made a complex flourish with the whip. "All right, slave Wynn, off with those clothes."
I had at least been expecting that much. I wasn't exactly dressed as a normal slave. "Yes, ma'am." I pulled off my shoes, loosened my tie further, pulled the shirt & tie up over my head, and slid the shorts down my legs and off, tossing all of the clothing into the corner of the room. I stood again looking at Grace, naked except for my Academy collar. I put my hands behind me. I was proud of the body development that so many hours in the gym had produced.
Grace frowned. "While we're here, you're to address me as Mistress. Speak only to say 'Yes, Mistress' or respond to a question, and keep your eyes down."
I quickly flicked my eyes down to Grace's feet. "Yes, Mistress." I felt myself flushing slightly. This relationship was only temporary, a game of sorts, but the treatment still stung. I'd had a few months to get used to the fact of actually being a slave, which muted my ire at being treated as one, a little. Still, the Academy itself had never treated me that way, except during that one undeserved punishment.
What upset me the most was the absence of respect for my status as a Hanging Boy. I admitted to myself that I really wasn't officially one yet, not until I graduated. But I felt my admission alone had earned me something better than this.
Grace made a come-here gesture with the whip. I buried my feelings and accepted that this session would be one prolonged insult to my status. It suddenly occurred to me why Grace had seemed excited to see me, in particular, tonight. It was easy to imagine that dealing with Father must be a humbling experience for her. She was clearly accustomed to dominating a situation — I had perceived that much about Grace in the first seconds after contact with her, in the main Party Room. The opportunity to treat Preston Cameron's son as a pleasure toy was no doubt very sweet to Grace.
I reached Grace, my eyes downcast as required. Grace made another gesture with the whip, which seemed to mean "kneel down." As I did so, Grace reached down and lifted up the front of her skirt. She had worn no panties. Grace's pussy, at my eye level, glistened in response to her excitement.
Zuchter is watching, I remembered, and suddenly I looked more deeply into that fact than the mere protection from harm that it offered. Part of the monitor's job was simply to learn from observing one of the other boys performing his duties as a host. If I did anything noteworthy, either especially well or especially badly, the videos of the session would likely be viewed more widely, possibly by the class as a whole. In any case, I was determined to uphold the high standards expected of any Academy Boy.
And I'll be damned if I'll give Grace any excuse to use that whip on me. Academy Boys know how to please their owners. That's my goal here. No need for the whip. No need for spoken words. Understanding what Grace wants from the smallest hint. I can do that. I want Marshall to be proud of me.
And at least, I reminded myself, it's not Andrew. I nearly giggled, still giddy with relief over having dodged that bullet. Grace has paid the Academy for the privilege of treating me this way, and that's her business. I'll do the best job I know how, and maybe I'll learn something from it, and maybe the other boys can learn something too, from seeing the video. That's the only meaning this has for me.
I leaned forward, my hands held behind my back, and pressed my chin between the tops of Grace's thighs. Best angle, and Grace can see my face, which I'm sure she'll like.
I thrust my tongue up between the folds of Grace's pussy and began licking enthusiastically. Presently Grace closed her eyes and moaned.