tagSci-Fi & FantasyMistress of the Air Ch. 08

Mistress of the Air Ch. 08

bySlaveNano©

By the time the airship had flown over the London conurbation into the Thames estuary on its way to the North Sea, Lady Sally had belatedly got her reviving cup of tea. She sat in her throne, now dressed in an Egyptian cotton dressing gown decorated with a winged Isis, sipping from a delicate china cup, her four submissive men in collars and leads at her feet, taking it in turns to kiss her toes.

"Ah, this is the life," she sighed. "Victoria, it will soon be time to get dressed for dinner. Go ahead and get my gown ready."

"Yes, madam."

"Of course, there will be no need for you to dress for dinner," she said to the men at her feet, "I may permit you to have scraps from my plate... if you're lucky."

They muttered their appreciation of her exceedingly generous offer.

It was dusk before Lady Sally sat in the dining room in an indigo gown, the table laid out with the Ming dynasty china and crystal glasses ready for dinner to be served.

"You see why I needed to bring such a large wardrobe, Victoria. It's only the first day of my travels and I'm already on my third change of attire."

"Only the third?" She questioned, "I make it six."

"Really, Victoria, how insolent of you to count."

"Sorry, madam."

Lady Sally turned to Captain Wyndham, invited to dine with her on the first night of the inaugural flight of The Corseted Domme, "And how have you found the flying, captain?"

Thankfully, she had not asked him to wear formal evening wear, so he was in the same suit and velvet waistcoat he wore on his visit to Rudston Hall, which he felt tolerably comfortable in.

"She's a dream to fly, your ladyship, especially for such a large airship. The steering wheel is so responsive, and the joystick for the elevators reacts to the slightest caress."

"Do you like to have the joystick in your hand, captain?"

Wyndham went red, "Well yes, Lady Sally, only in so much as it's necessary to work the elevators."

"Yes, there's nothing like having a firm grasp of one's joystick, is there not?"

"No, your ladyship," he spluttered.

"Let us have champagne before food is served. Victoria, go and fetch a bottle of the 1898 Krug. We will have a special vintage to toast The Corseted Domme.

Victoria soon returned, a dusty bottle with an elegant, gold-embossed label in her hand. She stripped the foil from its top, pulled off the wire and eased the cork out of the bottle. A stream of white bubbles foamed out of the bottle. Victoria poured a glass out for Lady Sally, and another for Captain Wyndham.

"You are permitted to join me in a glass of bubbly, as it's such a momentous occasion."

"Thank you, madam."

"But first, hand me that cut-glass jug."

Lady Sally took the jug and, placing it under the table, hitched up her gown. Captain Wyndham wondered what on earth she was doing; to his surprise, she released a stream of her hot piss into the vessel. Handing the full jug back to her maid, she gestured for her to fill four glasses up with her golden champagne, which were distributed to the four submissive men on their knees at the other side of the dining table.

Lady Sally stood up, "A toast. To The Corseted Domme, and all who fly in her."

"To The Corseted Domme," echoed around the dining room, the champagne and golden wine being downed by them in one slug.

"An excellent vintage," complimented the bishop, raising his glass to Lady Sally.

"Thank you. I have often considered fermenting my golden waters, and bottling them under my own label, Lady Sally's Golden Elixir. Fill the glasses up again, Victoria."

She turned to her airship pilot, a wicked glint in her eye, "You're not tempted to try a glass, captain?"

Wyndham shuffled uncomfortably, as he certainly didn't want to offend his employer yet neither was he ready to partake of the still steaming, yellow waters, "I think, your ladyship, I'd prefer to stick with the champagne."

"A shame. You don't know what a treat you're missing... perhaps one day I can persuade you. Do I shock you, captain?"

"Do you not set out to shock, Lady Sally?"

"Touché, captain. But no, I don't believe I do. This is merely how I am."

Wyndham was treading carefully. His own feelings towards Lady Sally were conflicted. What man would not be drawn to her, serve her... fall in love with her? Yet, was he ready to submit in the way those slaves did, or was he content to remain her airship pilot?

"You are a remarkable woman, your ladyship. It's a privilege to be on board for your adventure, but we do need to discuss the next stage of the journey..."

Lady Sally laughed, "How very coy, captain. Hmm, how delightfully challenging for me. I enjoy a challenge."

Captain Wyndham was saved by the arrival of starters, and a discussion about the route to their next destination. The airship was over the North Sea, heading south in the direction of the Rhur region, the industrial heart of the Prussian Empire.

"It would not be a destination of my choosing, except that I have an object to collect from the same automaton manufactory which built Clarissa. I believe you will find it interesting, captain."

Dinner was served: roast quail, dauphinoise potatoes and asparagus. Lady Sally scooped up a piece of asparagus from the silver salver on which they were served and looked at it with disdain.

"Victoria, go and fetch cook for me," she ordered.

Cook soon made an appearance, her round face looking ruddy and flustered, with a mob-cap perched on her head. She had clearly broken away from something as she was still drying her hands on a frilly apron.

"Yes, milady."

"What do you call this cook?" announced Lady Sally, holding an asparagus tip between her fingers. The vegetable hung there, its bulbous tip dripping butter.

"Well, I call it asparagus."

"Don't be impertinent, cook. Yes, of course, it's asparagus, the very finest English asparagus from the vegetable garden at Rudston Hall. But look at it. It's soft and flaccid. Asparagus should keep its firmness, not be limp and overcooked. When I sink my teeth into it I expect resistance... it should be stiff when I put it between my lips. Let me demonstrate."

Lady Sally took the piece of asparagus, drawing it towards her mouth. Her red lips parted to receive it, but it was soft and drooping, with melted butter glistening on its tip. She threaded it between her lips and took a bite off the end.

"You see, it should be firm enough to suck, not just dissolve in one's mouth."

Cook crossed her arms indignantly. "Well I'm doing my best, but it ain't easy, milady. It ain't natural, cooking in the sky. What am I meant to do when this... this thing is juddering and me pots and pans are sliding off me cooker? I can't be doing with this airship malarkey..."

"Cook, all I'm demanding is stiff asparagus. I've a good mind to replace you with an automaton."

Cook snorted, "Ha. You'll never get an automaton to make Yorkshire puddings like I do, and you know it. It's an art and there ain't no machine will ever be able to do it properly. Yorkshire puddings, milady, golden, crispy batter drizzled with onion gravy or even better, golden syrup. They's always been your favourite, milady, ever since you was a child. What would you do without yer Yorkshire puddings!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

"Well, yes, there is that I suppose," said Lady Sally, rather deflated.

The captain smiled, amused to find the old cook get the better of the mistress for a moment.

Lady Sally picked herself up, "Very well, I won't get an automaton... yet. But I won't put up with any impertinence, and you are going to have to get used to cooking on the airship... and I expect stiff asparagus next time. You're dismissed now cook."

"Very well, milady," replied cook before marching back to the kitchen to finish preparing the Charlotte Russe for pudding.

"Well, I'm bloody well not eating these floppy things," said Lady Sally when cook had gone, beckoning the judge to crawl over on his hands and knees to her side.

He instinctively opened his mouth and put his tongue out. The asparagus tip drooped over his salivating tongue, globs of butter dripping onto it. Lady Sally threaded it into his mouth, and his lips closed around it, sucking on the flaccid vegetable. She pushed the last piece of the stalk into his mouth.

"Thank you, mistress," he said, once the thing had been consumed.

"Victoria, pour me another glass of champagne."

When the meal was finished, and the table cleared, the slaves retired to their rooms for the night. Lady Sally savoured the moment. She looked out of the viewing window into the night sky, bathed in the luminous light of a full moon, and gazed at the stars. The first day of her airship adventure had been just perfect, everything she could have hoped for.

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