The Training Ch. 04

Master Alexander paused dramatically, waiting for some interjection from Felix. The younger man remained silent. A touch miffed at having his thunder stolen, Master Alexander continued. "The truth, if such a thing could truly be said to exist, lay somewhere in between. Their role for the last couple of centuries had been to perfect the talent of body reshaping and to quantify the results. Most of the members have never known, blindly feeding their hedonistic natures. Their Head Master has always known. Their Master has always been James, though his face, form and outward identity changes every thirty years or so."

"You're fucking with me," Felix whispered.

"For what purpose?" Master Alexander said. "Don't interrupt me again, Brother. It's exceedingly rude."

"My apologies, Master Alexander," Felix said. He'd been praying that the old man would shut the fuck up, but now he wanted to hear every word. Master James had offered him the world, then stripped him of the most important thing in it. Alison. He wanted that fucker to pay. To do that he needed information. "Please, continue."

Mollified, Master Alexander continued his history lesson. "Master James has long realized that a perfect level of anonymity would be impossible to achieve. He needed some powerful allies if he was to prosper. An organization simply can't snatch women off the streets and operate on them without raising a few eyebrows. Missing people make headlines. People always talk, especially those sworn to secrecy.

In the end, Master James cemented deals with the two forces that control the way the world works. His Western self thinks of them as law-enforcement and the criminal element. His Eastern mind prefers to use the concepts of Order versus Chaos."

An old, wrinkled hand snapped up, silencing Felix before he could squeak. "Master James grew up in Japan, or so they say. From our conversations together I know that he has definitely studied Eastern Philosophy and Religion. This is why I say ‘His Eastern Mind.' Clear?" Felix nodded. Master Alexander continued. He loved this subject! "The Masters' unparalleled skill in reconstructive surgery, tissue regeneration and flesh alteration technique guarantee they remain untouched by governments and syndicates alike. They work quickly and efficiently. They help government agency spies change their appearance and identities, but also conceal renegade Mafia Dons fleeing from prosecution. One day they might remove thirty years off of the age of a rapidly decaying movie star, and the next day save the life of an incredibly obese millionaire who needs to safely and quickly shed a couple hundred pounds of extra weight before his heart stops and his greedy wife claims his vast fortune."

Master Alexander's attention drifted off as the surgeons peeled off the blue sheets from the twins. "Oh my!" Master Alexander whispered. "What moron would slice up a perfectly serviceable pair of gorgeous twin redheads? Such waste!" Then, realizing that said moron stood in the room with him, he cleared his throat. "Um, yes. The Masters do not judge. The Masters do not inquire. The Masters, truth be told, don't care. They keep no records, only results. In this way Master James ensures their continued acceptance by the world powers, and in doing so, their very existence. So what if on occasion a few dozen prostitutes vanish from the street? No one ever traces the crime back to us. This is the way things work if you keep everyone happy. Mind your business, and you become untouchable."

"Wow." The single word encompassed the multiverse.

"Wow, indeed," Master Alexander agreed. He patted Felix on the shoulder again. "Enjoy your women, Brother. Hold onto what you possess with an iron grip. At the same time, learn to let go of things you have lost."

Felix looked up at the older, taller man. He found pity there. "You think I could have my name tattooed across their asses?"

Master Alexander smiled. "Certainly, if you wish it. Unsightly tattoos can always be removed later on. Not a trace would remain."

"Kind of defeats the purpose, then, doesn't it?"

Master Alexander tsked. "Indelible, Immutable and Undefinable are three concepts that have no meaning here," he said. "You had best learn that, too."

Felix watched the man shuffle away, looking as old and tired as Felix suddenly felt. He turned his attention back to his women under glass, keeping his mind focused on the feast that would await him once they healed.

§§§

Master James finally ordered some of the other Masters to take some of the flak from the visitors. He'd been harried by the inscrutable, silently staring Japanese all day. Of course, having Eriko speak often was worse. He'd grown quite unaccustomed to having his authority challenged. He knew that the xenophobic nature of the Asians worked against him. They knew he was in charge. They acknowledged the fact.

Their eyes said that he, along with his brethren, were quite beneath them. Only Eriko and Arieru disliked him for different reasons.

Master James let his mind wander over what Master Peter was saying to the delegates. The white robed Master droned on about the various trance states, starting with the base Alpha state, then touching upon Beta and its deep waking coma, Gamma's libido-liberating state and Omega's customized final state of acquiescence. The Japanese looked uninterested in the psychobabble.

"I see," Empress Eriko said. "You sap the will out of your subjects and make them your sexual playthings. Do you really find sexual congress with lifeless dolls stimulating in any way?"

"Hardly lifeless," Master Peter explained, as if to small children. "They retain all of their faculties."

"All except for free will," Eriko snapped. "What is the sense in that? Where is the sport in having intercourse with a listless rag doll?" She looked like she'd love to spit upon him. Master Peter recoiled. Apparently, a patronizing tone wasn’t the appropriate one to use on the Japanese.

Tune out and look what happened! "Don't judge too harshly," Master James interjected. "Our trances use various naturally-derived drugs to liberate the desires hidden deep within the women. We don't create phantom desires that don't already exist. We merely free submerged urges and allow the subjects to express themselves. We tear down their walls of inhibition, Eriko. We don't fabricate false lust within them."

Master Peter looked at the Head Master with gratitude. The scientist hadn't wanted to say anything further to the 'Honored Guests.' Who knew what scandal could've erupted from harsh words directed at the ignorant Eastern Masters? He'd rather have Master James do all the talking.

"Do not mistake us, Master Peter." Eriko soothingly voice made his cock throb. The odd title fell hesitatingly from her lips. Her sexy smile both alarmed him and disarmed him. Such feline smiles froze rabbits in their tracks before the cat savaged them to death. "We truly respect your artistry. It takes great skill to look into the human mind and to modify set behavior patterns you find there. But this childish labeling of everything you do must stop. Alpha? Beta? Omega? I feel like asking you to show me your secret decoder ring before we continue our discussion."

A couple of Eriko's companions smiled behind their hands, politely concealing their amusement. The other two Japanese betrayed no expression or interest at all. Master James sighed, then waved Master Peter away. The beleaguered Master of Psychological happily fled the scene.

"Did you fly all this way to insult my people, Eriko? If so, please leave. I'm much too busy to play with you today."

"Calm yourself, Master James." Eriko dropped the honorific like a butler would to an infant Lordling in his charge; a mere formality that demonstrated no real feelings of respect or subservience. She felt the title ridiculous and invested it with all the scorn she could muster. Her lips pursed as if the title tasted excrement-foul. "We came to learn from your people, not to criticize them."

"Then observe more and comment less!" Master James snapped. The other Japanese looked extremely affronted, even more than Eriko herself did. She wore a pleased smile. Master James pointedly ignored them, focusing on the short woman's beautiful face. How long has it been ... Fifty-five years? Sixty? She still looked as beautiful as ever, not a day over twenty-five. She still enjoyed discomforting him it seemed. Perhaps her youthful face suited her immature personality, James mused.

"My people enjoy their work here. They have fun, yet fulfill their obligations. They may seem juvenile to you but they do topnotch work with the equivalent of sinew thread and bone needles. They are quantifying the things you do without thought, yet don't truly understand. Don't ever allow yourself to forget that."

"Never look too closely at the Gods' gifts," she whispered. "Blessings vanish when their provenances are questioned." With that, she walked away, trailed loyally by her attendants.

Good thing Arieru wasn't around. She would've stared back over her shoulder at him with hatred. She knew him well, and had despised him for over a century now. She still felt that she, not Eriko, should have been trained to be Mistress of the East. That envy in no way stopped her from performing her duties to the best of her abilities. In some ways, Arieru still lived in feudal Japan. Not surprising, since she'd been alive long enough to see the Tokugawa Shogunate, the Meiji, the Taisho and the Showa eras pass into the annals of history. She hated today's world, and existed only to follow a strong leader. Arieru only felt complete while serving another. Since Master James had rejected her, she accepted Eriko.

Strange. Master James had chosen Eriko over Arieru for her strength of personality. He knew it to be a cruelty to force Arieru to lead others. Now the woman despised him for that choice, even while she reveled in being Eriko's second-in-command.

Women. An enigma in any age.

Master James stood looking after Eriko long after she'd turned the corner of the hallway. A day for staring at people's backs, he mused. He couldn't fathom his emotions. Excitement? Maybe. He felt buoyed by her presence at the Mansion. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her and her headstrong nature. He looked forward to sparring with a worthy opponent after so many decades.

§§§

Karen idly fondled the star sapphire teardrops that swung from the rings in her turgid nipples. She worried at them so much, Alison almost thought that they'd snap off. She'd regretted asking the grinning black woman where she'd gotten them. She'd asked a polite question. She'd not expected a sermon from the elegant, statuesque beauty.

Alison wore black silk today, the shimmery cloth making her pale skin glow against. She looked like a woman at her leisure, lounging around in an expensively cut, elegant satin pajama set. Only upon closer inspection would one notice the fine slits in the material that would give a man access to her body. Whether a breast, her pussy or her ass, a man just had to reach out and claim the part of her he wanted to use. Her clothing, for all it’s casual look, was definitely work wear.

Only, now it seemed that the ebony silks attracted more than men. Karen made a play for Alison’s delights. Karen tried to make Alison go to her knees and eat pussy. Alison had politely but firmly told Karen to borrow someone's strap-on and fuck herself instead. Karen now tried to let Alison know just how lowly she really was and why she should obey her.

Karen jangled a nipple ornament at Alison. "See this stone? It's my mark. The Caste Marks are a source of pride among us. Beauty. Intellect. Wealth. None of these things matter to the Masters when it comes to determining the value of a female. Only one thing is considered."

"That is?" Alison asked. She knew the answer already.

"Malleability," Karen said. "They only care about what you can become, not who you are."

"Not so different than the rest of the world," Alison said. Karen ignored her. "The considerable stresses upon the flesh when morphing make most women totally unsuitable for the Masters' purposes. Limitations exist. There's only so many times a women’s body can be remade."

"Do you know what these limits are?" Alison asked her. She pushed away the Black woman's clawing hand, using firm, gentle pressure. Karen wouldn't take no for an answer. Alison decided to try a different tack. She’d keep Karen talking. Failing that, she'd smack the bitch senseless if Karen didn't stop pawing at her.

"Finites, women who can undergo only the most minor of changes, belong to the Third Circle, the lowest tier," Karen said. "Hair, basic facial structure and other things can be altered, but no major modifications can be made to them. These women don't take well to surgery and heal slowly."

"Sounds terrible," Alison said. "I can't see them being welcome here."

"They aren't for long," Karen agreed. "Finites are given a diamond to symbolize their immutable state. Their use is severely limited. Any woman can achieve the same results with wigs, makeup and plastic surgery."

"I take it you are not one of those," Alison said. The way the woman wore an underwire, frilly demi-bra to show off her slight, thick nippled tits proved that. She wanted the world to see her sapphires. They had to mean something.

"I am not! I'm of the Second Circle. We receive a star sapphire to symbolize the special ability within us that allows our appearances to be changed multiple times. Our bodies are resilient to surgery. We are highly sought-after by the Masters."

"Are there only two Circles?”

"That's all there is," Karen said, face triumphant. "I don't think you have a sapphire, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Poor baby," Karen said, pulling Alison to her. "I'll take care of you, if you'll be good to me. That's fair, isn't it?"

Fair, yes, if in prison. She refused to become this woman's bitch. Not in here! "There's nothing above Second?" Alison asked. “The name implies that there is.”

"Yes, the Firsts, but they don't exist. Those mythic women are unfettered by concerns of the flesh. Like clay that refuses to set, their bodies are said to be easily molded. I've never met a single Master who believes they’re real. Everything has a breaking point. It's impossible that such women could ever be."

"How would you recognize one?"

"Her Mark, of course. A carved crystal ring would be given to them. Infinite. Transparent. Reflecting nothing, but warping everything seen through it. The crystal ring symbolizes the ultimate malleability of the possessed. I've never seen one. I doubt you will, either."

Alison pulled out the thin golden chain that dangled between her breasts. The delicate, twisted, crystal ring that hung from it folded in upon itself in a flowing spiral. The way the lines danced on it's surface twisted it like a torus. Alison’s eyes couldn't trace the swirling lines. Staring at it too long made her vision swim. "Thanks for explaining why Head Master James told me to keep this with me at all times," Alison said. "Suck me, Karen. Make me come with your mouth."

Without another word, Karen dropped to her knees and fulfilled the command. It took a long time to make Alison come, but the raging storm that racked her body definitely felt like the sweetest orgasm ever. A messenger, a thin, wiry girl wearing nothing but braided leather straps at wrists, ankles and waist and shaved bare ran up to Alison just as Karen finished her off. She patiently waited while the last tremulous spasm passed.

"I beg your pardon, Alison. Head Master James summons you. Your surgery is to begin. You are to be readied for the Eastern Masters."

"Show me the way," Alison said. She followed the naked runner out. She didn't even look back at the stunned Black woman who sat cross-legged on the ground, mouth open and cheeks and chin shinny with female spend. "Oh shit," Karen thought. She'd tried to bully the Head Master's favorite! Second Circle or not, Karen thought it safest if she departed the Mansion tonight.

§§§

Two days had passed since her Summons to the Clean Room. Now Alison found herself facing the Ordeal. The walls of the Octagon rose up around her, blacker than the skies at midnight. The bare, smooth walls converged overhead into a single point. Entering the area, she felt a strange trepidation come over her. A queasy restlessness gripped her, an unease she'd only experienced once before in her lifetime.

On her wedding day.

This holy place had the feel of the Basilica where she had exchanged vows with Felix. The heady mix of exuberance, fear, devotion and unconditional love had smothered her. She barely remembered anything from that day except for the kiss at the altar. If not for the miracle of videotape the memory would probably not exist, either.

That first night with Felix, though, had been quite memorable. Felix's patient, careful and imaginative techniques had wrung every last bit of pleasure out of her exhausted body. He'd worked her over for hours, denying her an orgasm until she thought her skin would sizzle off. Then, miracle of miracles, she experienced the first simultaneous orgasm of her life. The often documented, seldom experienced moment of ultimate union had been one of the pivotal moments in her adult life. As that very moment she'd fallen in love with her man all over again.

She found the vows merely a formality. The ritual deflowering meant more to her than a thousand spoken words or meaningless scraps of paper issued by the city. By that time not a single fresh petal still clung to the prettily trimmed, barren bush of her virginity. She had shed her inhibitions and her virginity long years before ever meeting Felix. No matter. She hadn’t needed the validation of Church or State for their union. The contented pains of her body had told her everything she needed to know.

Her Japanese escort led Alison to the center of the room. The area featured long leather benches arranged in a smaller octagon, each side in parallel with the walls of the room. Four smaller benches at the center of the room lay arranged in a cross. They set her remodeled body down on this comfortable leather crucifix, making an offering of her. Other than the benches, the chamber remained empty. As silent as the proverbial tomb. She saw no sign of the Masters she'd been expecting. Alison had imagined a wide area filled with robed, hooded men arranged in two circles around the center, staggered so everyone could see. Instead, the black windowless walls contained only herself and the Six Asian Masters who escorted her inside.

A part of her felt thankful. A bigger part of her felt extremely disappointed. She didn't know why she felt that way but she couldn't deny the unmistakable feelings.

No, she knew why. She desired more cock than only the three available in her escort.

Unbeknownst to her, the multitude of cameras and microphones buried in the walls silently recorded and transmitted everything that transpired in the chamber. The Masters had no need to stand around in a circle trying to peep at the action, not when pristine images and crystal clear sound could easily be pumped into each of their private viewing chambers. Technology made assemblages of the membership obsolete. The Masters weren't schoolchildren to be crammed into an auditorium. They could afford the best equipment to facilitate such matters.

"Are you ready?" Keira asked. Alison nodded. More than ready. Eager. Sex Alison could handle. Once she started she'd be fine. Seeing the lust mirrored in the other woman's eyes excited Alison to no end. That she could arouse both women and men pleased her. "Very good," Keira said. That was the last thing Alison heard before the woman inserted ear plugs into her. Arieru covered Alison's eyes with adhesive pads. Finally, Eriko pulled a leather half-hood over Alison's head. Her long, shiny black hair flowed out of the top like an ebony geyser, spilling down the back of the headdress in a glistening inky spray. Why did the Asians want her deaf and blind?