Stories of Strange Queens

A few minutes later, as the sun dipped deeper over the distant hills and the cold of the night's shadow began to climb up towards Roberts and her hidden facility and her gently sloping hilltop and her fresh grave, the airtight exit door in the ground floor wall of her building opened with a soft hiss and a swinging sound, and a few seconds later, an arm went around the shaking shoulders of Eliza Roberts. She turned, without looking, and put her head in the chest of Renata as she comforted her, her warm bosom soothing to Roberts' scattered head. After a few moments, she put her arms around her lover and embraced her, appreciating the silence, and the caring shoulder to cry on. A few minutes after that, Roberts dried up and wiped the last of her tears away, looking into the eyes of the clone she'd obsessed over making ever since the first had failed two days ago.

Those soft brown eyes gazed back at her, framed in a blonde border of golden light in the dying rays of the sun, and they didn't ask questions or seek justice or intimate that Roberts had made a mistake. They just cared. Leaning over and kissing her softly, lightly on the corner of the mouth, Roberts held her rebuilt pet close, and the pair stood up to go, Renata picking up the black robe and draping it around her Mistress' shoulders, her own nudity so perfectly normal to her that wearing it herself was as alien as cutting off an arm. The pair walked back to the doorway and inside their home, closing the airtight door behind them and letting the house AI lock it once they'd gone far enough away from it. Neither woman looked back, and as the sun set over the house of Eliza Roberts, neither would.

* * * * *

The Reunion and the Party

* * * * *

'So six o'clock? Okay, perfect... Yeah, I've still got their numbers, I'll call them... Of course I'll call Briana, what kind of a party is one without the kinkiest people we know? Yeah, of course... Okay, don't worry about any food though, there's more than enough here... Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay! See you then. Love ya... Ha-ha, I know, that's why I said it. Okay, bye!'

The phone beeped as Jordan lowered the handset from her head and leaned with a huff against the lift pillar, folding one arm under her bosom, the other sitting on her hip as she looked at her lover sitting comfortably on the sofa across from her.

'That's Rachel - she's in of course, which means Kat is in -- and they're doing great by the way. They moved out of state last year and they just made it legal for gays to marry there; we'd better make sure we congratulate them with a special orgy just for them as newlyweds!' Jordan said, grinning, her skin prickling in the warm light of the sun through the windows behind her as she spoke to her partner. Chelsea smiled wanly and raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend quizzically.

'Maybe we should look into selling up and moving there?' She teased. Jordan's smile grew wider.

'Something tells me someone wouldn't want that to happen... But it's not you. I wonder where she's gotten to, by the way?' Jordan intimated, the grin never fading. With a cough and a theatrical pat at her throat with her closed fist, Chelsea's face changed and she frowned at her girlfriend.

Putting on a deeper, more clipped voice, she said, 'Of course I don't approve of that suggestion, how dare you even think of selling my sex slave house!' Jordan laughed, her firm breasts bouncing and her eyes creasing at the corners. 'Not quite enough of the most-important-bitch-in-the-world in that one, I'm afraid, babe, but nice try. I've got to call the others - think you might wanna fuck after I'm done?'

Chelsea snorted, and, still in her imitative voice of the late Eliza Roberts, former owner and designer of the girls' inherited house, replied. 'I certainly do, and I think the dumb slut who's body I've taken over might want to as well.' Lifting the large blanket draped over her body and glancing theatrically downwards, Chelsea made a balking motion and quickly dropped the fabric again. 'Correction; she definitely does.'

Jordan grinned wider and blew her lover a kiss. 'Back in a bit, sexy.' She turned, and her bubbly backside swung hypnotically back and forth as she strode towards the kitchen side of the building, aiming for the fire stairs there. She exited the top floor of the mega-apartment and took the long way down to the lab, jogging easily down the steps, the mag-electric lift remaining open on the top level, knowing via the array of sensors inside the building that Chelsea still remained there and could need it.

As she went, Jordan swiped a set of in-ear buds from the wall just inside the entrance to the lab, popping them in her ears and connecting them to her phone. She strode towards the centre of the lab, the multitude of Eliza Roberts' finished and unfinished sex or hypnosis-driven inventions strewn about the place just as she'd left them years ago. Jordan arrived at the office and, already authenticated to her bio-signature, the door was open and ready for her. She stepped easily through the slightly raised doorway and bent over one side of the circular benchtop inside, slipping one of the many invisible draws open, revealing the one item this draw was tasked with keeping safe.

It was a crumpled piece of paper with ten or so phone numbers and names scrawled on it and several ripped corners missing, and it was the only existing copy of the phone numbers given to the couple upon farewelling the other saved captives, all of whom were part of a sex slave exportation ring that had seen Jordan caught and then subsequently break out and escape. Many had wished to remain anonymous, choosing to take the horrible opportunity to reset and restart. Others had wished to keep in touch, and others still remained good friends, lovers, or even wedded partners because of it. Of those, most had shared their numbers with Jordan and Chelsea, and they with them. Now, on the second anniversary of their freedom, it was time to meet up again.

Jordan dialled, and set the smartphone down on the benchtop, leaning forward to gaze out of the glass of the office and through the external triple-glazed wall of the lab at the city below. Somewhere down there, after her phone's signal was routed into a private radio antenna owned solely by Roberts' private umbrella-business for the express purpose of routing any call made inside the building into the mobile network, privatised and free and completely disconnected from the phone's very insecure radio signals, her call would be setting a phone alight, and a very important woman would be moving to answer it. Jordan gazed down there and wondered if she were looking anywhere near where that girl was right now.

The line crackled and the ringtone stopped. '... Jordan?'

'Fuck it's good to hear your voice Briana, how are you?' Jordan said, smiling at no one as she focussed on the call. The phone rustled a bit, and a somewhat nervous-sounding Briana replied. 'Uh, it's, uh, it's really good to hear from you-' she replied distractedly. There was more rustling and a few bumps down the line, and Jordan frowned.

'Everything all good, B?' She asked, concern edging into her mind.

'Uh, yeah, yeah all fine, it's just not the best-' Briana replied. Then, another voice cut down the line, distant but not that far away from the mic.

'Bri, baby, who is it? I thought that phone was disconnected.'

'It is mum, I promise, but it's-'

'Is that one of the girls? Who is it?' the second voice entered again, older and gruffer than Briana's youthful tones. The concern flew off Jordan's face, replaced with an even wider grin.

'Audrey! Briana, put your mum on for me honey?' Jordan asked. The phone rustled loudly a bit more, and then stopped. There was a click. Then...

'Chelsea?'

'Audrey you sly fox! It's Jordan. How are you?' Jordan teased. There was a tut from the phone. 'What are you doing calling us at this hour?' the woman asked, not sounding displeased to be on the phone with her distant friend.

'I think it's you that's in the weirder situation, with all due respect, it's three in the afternoon!' Jordan laughed. Something of a 'hrumph' came back to her down the phone, and then the sound of Briana's excitement barged in again as she evidently retook the phone from her surrogate mother.

'Jordan! What is it? Are you going on an adventure? Is someone in trouble? Do you need my help?'

'As much as I'd like to go on an adventure with you Briana, the only thing we need from you and your mum is for you to join us up here at ours on the eighteenth. Think you can do that?'

A pause. Apparently, Audrey could hear the phone speaker from her place in the bed beside her faux-daughter.

'Well, we wouldn't say no to seeing our friends again, would we?'

Briana's voice was jubilant as she practically shouted down the phone, 'We'll be there! What time?'

Jordan had to hold back a snort before she answered - two years and the couple were still acting like mother and daughter, with Audrey all serious and Briana bubbly and energetic and totally off the walls. Probably not a bad trait in bed, Jordan mused in the back of her mind as she replied to the question.

'Around six, but come anytime - and feel free to get here anytime, too.' She said, grinning. The breathing on the other end of the line was as close to an audible picture of Briana's guilty huff as was possible, and Jordan knew she was self-consciously touching herself where she'd no doubt been doing exactly the former not long ago. 'We'll be there at three then. Okay, gotta go, love you!' Briana said in a rush before hanging up. Jordan chuckled to herself and closed the line, seeking out the next number and dialling it.

To her right, a door opened, and Chelsea stepped into the lab, wrapped in her blanket. As the ringtone droned in her ears, Jordan turned to see her come in, and watched her slowly approach the office. Twenty paces away, the blanket fell off Chelsea's body, and a fully naked goddess named Chelsea stepped out from where a towel wrapped around Jordan's lover had once been.

The phone rang out and went to voicemail. Jordan ignored it.

Krystal could wait. Chelsea couldn't. Jordan wouldn't let her.

Stepping out of the circular office, her nipples stiffening to attention as if on cue, Jordan gazed at the milky perfection of the woman she loved with all her being and more. They met with a passionate kiss that saw two pairs of perky breasts pushed tightly together as two stomachs came closer, two damp pussies touching as two sets of legs looped around the other's, searching for a place where they could hook the other person closer and pull them in tighter.

'I know a place we could do this with some special help,' Chelsea breathed at the neck of Jordan as her lover placed suckling kisses down her own with two infinitely soft lips. 'Take us there.' she breathed.

The girls backed up, never parting. Chelsea, gifted with the mind of Eliza Roberts entwined within her own, knew where they were going. Butting her way through the door, the dim lights turned themselves on as the pair fell inside the room, landing on the waterbed-like floor insert, the warm rubber cupping their skin. The door closed, and surreptitiously sealed, courtesy of a small rubber ring running all the way around the frame. With a gentle hissing, the pre-filled canisters inside a compartment in the wall engaged, releasing a thin purple mist into the air. At the same time, the waterbed floor engaged a complex set of motors, water pumps and electric currents all at once, pressurising the bed and bringing it softly and suddenly to life, causing it to ripple and wave and trill with a gentle electrical ripple that excited the skin on contact. Chelsea, flat on her back on the rubber, arched her back involuntarily, and as Jordan felt it on her thighs and shins, felt her legs tense, tightening them on either side of Chelsea's leg, pushing her pussy involuntarily into her lover's skin for a moment. She grinned, and breathed in thickly, her breathing deepening all of its own accord.

As she gazed at Chelsea, she saw the same thing happening to her - she was breathing deeper, her chest rising and falling more powerfully, her eyes widening. Jordan could feel her warm breath, smell her scent. It aroused her like she'd never felt before, and letting out an almost animalistic growl, she buried her lips into her partner, pushing her body into hers, humping at her as Chelsea began to do the same. Within moments, all hands were on deck - or more precisely, on pussy, as the pair buried their fingers to the knuckles inside each other. Backs arched, legs tightened, lips met, breasts moulded. Soon, as the girls began to fuck each other, the rhythm of their copulation was picked up by the motors and pumps and echoed in their cycles, timing it so that each thrust was coordinated with a rippling wave that rolled through their bodies, pushing them together and rubbing their bodies against each other, the electricity exciting their nerves to a tense hum of pleasure-filled arousal, a chemical, animal lust filling their brains as they rutted in the sealed room, bent solely on each other until the automatic timer on the gas canisters expired and switched to a fresh air pump to cleanse the special chemical from the air.

* * * * *

'We're definitely going to have to open that up to the girls when they get here.' Chelsea said, relaxing on the couch some hour or so later alongside Jordan. The two sat, naked, curled up together, spending some peaceful time together in the afternoon light as it blazed through the smart glazed windows, just at that perfect level of brightness and warmth. There was a blanket draped over their legs and the girls held each other close, content in each other's company and coming down fresh off a sex-high gifted to them by one of Roberts' past chemical experiments. The chemical was pretty simple, and, seeing no real use for it other than the obvious -- it excited production of the hormones that fuelled the libido, turning anyone who breathed it in into a sex-craving animal -- she installed it in a set of spare canisters, threw the parts together for a generator that would blend the formula out of natural gasses in the air and those supplied for other uses around the building, and built a 'fun' room. Once discovered, and naturally pending AI approval to access the area, Roberts' sex pets loved it, and it was almost too popular for Roberts to spend any time there herself. Almost.

'Absolutely.' Jordan agreed, leaning her head on her girlfriend's soft scalp, her long black hair hanging frizzy and free about her shoulders. She'd let it grow from the length she used to keep it at, and it was now a lengthy, luscious black, kept ever shiny and clean by the array of specially-supplied women's cleaning products Roberts had contracted to be manufactured specifically and only for her. They were delivered once a month to a business-and-enterprise warehouse down in the town and picked up by one of the girls from there, much like the majority of their imported goods. There was still the scent of female sex in the air -- the girls had showered, but, ever aroused by each other and still riding down the ecstasy of their aphrodisiac-high earlier, their bodies were prone to keeping themselves well prepared for the eventuality of more sexual interaction. With Jordan and Chelsea, It was only ever one touch away.

'Who's left to call?' Chelsea asked. 'Want a hand?'

Jordan thought for a moment, rearranging herself on the sofa, scooting down and putting her legs up, splayed wide in a very revealing, very un-lady-like pose. Chelsea rested herself back against one of the many corner sections of the couch and put the soles of her feet on the side of Jordan's thigh.

'Well,' Jordan said. 'Briana and Audrey are coming, and I've already called Kat -- she's bringing Rachel of course. They're flying in a few days early and catch up on some local business here -- check up on the old house and so forth, apparently -- and then they're going to stay with us until their flight back. Then, there's Krystal -- she's coming, just not for the full thing. I wasn't sure about calling her but she's doing well now, has a job and found a boyfriend. She asked if he could come too, and I said sure -- hopefully everyone's okay with that.'

'Don't worry, they will be. These aren't judgemental chicks, as well you know.' Chelsea reassured her.

'Okay, well then there's Diana. She settled down and got a job and apparently it's a good one. For the most part she's abstaining these days, focussing solely on work. I think she wants to buy a house somewhere overseas and start again. She sent her love and genuinely missed us, but this type of party's not for her, unfortunately.'

'Did you tell her about the lunch and dinner and the games we bought?' Chelsea asked, somewhat disheartened at hearing about the mousey young girl's rejection of the invitation. The party, set over three days, would kick off with a night of games and fun, clothed or otherwise, and a rich dinner. The next day -- the second anniversary of all the girls' freedom --was for forgetting their past and looking to their futures, and about interacting with each other in the right ways, bodily, mentally, and sexually. The third and final day would be full of relaxation and company, a day to slow down and talk about how things had gone after escaping their near-permanent enslavement as monetized pussies on legs for the highest, or perhaps the only, bidders, and for moving on from the past together.

'Yup, I even offered to take her to a hotel on the 18^th, but she refused. She was really polite about it, but firm. She's moved on.'

'Well, good for her I guess. That sounds like it's the best thing for her.'

'That's what I said. Anyways, Claudia and Caitlin are coming, although Caitlin can't make the 17^th because she's got a dinner she can't miss. I still need to call Phoebe, Jessica and Leila, but after last time I'm not sure they'll join us. If you want to help ask them that'd be swell.'

Some months after their parting of ways at the end of their imprisonment saga, Jordan had called many of the girls on the paper they'd written their numbers down on. Quite a few were eager to talk and very open with her -- Amanda, Kat and Rachel among them -- while others, like Krystal and Leila, were harder to reach. Leila had ignored the calls for a while before calling back days after Jordan had given up, while Krystal had been very inward about things. Jordan hadn't felt like they'd wanted to talk, so she'd left them to their devices, reminding them that if they ever needed hers and Chelsea's help that they just had to call, no matter what. They hadn't so far.

'Yeah, I seem to remember Leila getting drunk, wasn't it? Or was she high?' Chelsea asked, scratching her boob and stretching her relaxed limbs.

'Mmm, no it was drunk. She'd had a feeling she knew the number... Remember she said she'd burned the paper we wrote it on?' Jordan said. Chelsea sucked in air, raising her eyebrows.

'Aah, that's right.'

'Yeah, and then she'd gone and gotten drunk one night and drunk dialled us instead of a taxi and ended up spilling her heart out over the phone. Poor girl'd struggled to catch a break, her house was gone, her car was repossessed and her bank closed her off. But she was adamant she wanted to go it alone, and when I told her I'd send her some unmarked cash she'd hung up on me.'

Chelsea nodded sadly. 'Not all of them had it as easily as we did.'

'Nope. I just hope she's okay... A small girl like her is a target to predators these days. That's half the reason she was taken in the first place.' Jordan mused. 'I'd like to get in touch with her sooner rather than later, actually. Would you mind calling her tomorrow?'