“Well? Turn around and let’s see you,” Mistress Bigaboo commanded.
Lan’ara turned hesitantly, trying to keep her crotch covered with one hand.
“This is lovely, Mistress Bigaboo, but it’s a bit, er…revealing.”
“Well it’s meant to be revealing, now ent it?” the other woman exclaimed. “Move your hand, dearie! Why are you guarding your goodies like that?”
“Well, it’s because I don’t have any…any underthings to wear,” Lan’ara almost whispered, biting her lip in shame. “I’m so sorry—I know it isn’t proper.”
“Isn’t proper?”
Mistress Bigaboo erupted into laughter again, only this time it didn’t sound quite so heavenly as before, Lan’ara thought. In fact, it was rather grating on the ear. Why was that?
“Why would you need panties, for?” Mistress Bigaboo demanded, when she finally got over her mirth. “If you put some on, you’d only have to take them off again.”
“Take them off?” Lan’ara was confused.
“To work for me, of course. Which you will do for the rest of your life, dearie.”
Somehow her shining emerald eyes didn’t look quite so kind as she looked at Lan’ara this time. And her formerly lustrous auburn locks were beginning to look frizzy and unkept. Lan’ara frowned—what was happening? How was the Mistress changing before her eyes?
But even more than the other woman’s appearance, she was concerned with her words.
“I’m sorry—did you say you wanted me to work for you the rest of my life?” she asked, laughing a little, for it must be a mistake. “I’m sure I must have misheard you.”
“Oh, no, dearie—-you heard me right.” The green eyes looked sharp and squinty now and Mistress Bigaboo’s hair was matted and greasy. Also, her formerly lovely gown was changing—turning from fine golden fabric to rough brown homespun.
The fabric of the dress Lan’ara had put on wasn’t quite so lovely either. Instead of diaphanous silk it appeared to be made of cheap sateen that felt slick to the touch. But it was still every bit as revealing as it had been when she first put it on.
“What kind of shop are you running here, anyway?” Lan’ara demanded. “And what makes you think I would stay here for the rest of my life?”
“Why, because I bought you just now, dearie—from Slick and Slob, the two sots as brought you in to me,” Mistress Bigaboo said matter-of-factly.
“But they don’t own me!” Lan’ara exclaimed. “So they had no right to sell me. Besides, I already have an owner—a Kindred warrior named Needrix. And for your information, my Lord Needrix will be looking for me very soon!”
She hoped, anyway. But would Need even know which way she had gone? Lan’ara didn’t even know herself—she couldn’t remember a thing after she’d bumped her head.
“Well, dearie, ‘My Lord Need’ is going to be disappointed,” Mistress Bigaboo snapped. “Because you’re mine now and I ent giving you up! You work for me from this minute on, so get your hand off your goodies and get ready to service your first customer.”
“Service a customer?”
Suddenly Lan’ara began to understand. The revealing dress…Mistress Bigaboo insisting that she owned her…the talk of servicing customers.
“Oh my Gods and Goddesses, this is a Flower House!’ she exclaimed, thoroughly horrified.
“A what?” Mistress Bigaboo glared at her, clearly confused. She had no beauty left now—it had leaked away, leaving a stout, slovenly hag with long, matted hair and mean, squinty eyes. Lan’ara wondered how she could have been so completely deceived by the other woman.
“A Flower House,” she repeated. “A place where girls service multiple men sexually.”
“Well ‘ent that a pretty name.” Mistress Bigaboo snorted laughter. “You can call it that if you like, dearie, but around these parts we just call it a whorehouse and have done with it.”
“Well, I can’t stay here and…and work in your whorehouse,” Lan’ara protested. “I told you—I am owned by my Lord Need who paid forty thousand credits for me in Yys!”
“Forty thousand credits, is it?” Mistress Bigaboo’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Well, that’s something to think of, that is! I reckon I can tell prospective clients that and charge twice as much for you!”
“But you can’t—” Lan’ara began.
“Oh, yes I can!” Mistress Bigaboo snapped. “You’re mine now, dearie and that means you’re going to spread your legs for whoever I tell you to! Now get your mind right for I’ll be sending the first client in directly!”
Then she left, slapping the door closed behind her. Lan’ara rushed over to it but just as she put her hand on the knob, she heard a click and knew the other woman had locked it.
She tried to turn the knob anyway, but to no avail. The door was firmly locked and she was trapped.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Lan’ara turned back to face the room, only to see that it had changed the same way Mistress Bigaboo had.
Instead of a huge canopy bed with feather pillows, she saw a tiny, narrow cot with a rickety wooden frame and a single flat pillow. The golden bedclothes had changed into a gray blanket stiff with the dirt and grime of many encounters. The richly carpeted floor was now made of dirty wooden slats with bare earth peaking through the large gaps between them.