Unleashed by the Defender (Brides of the Kindred #25) - Evangeline Anderson Page 0,4

me?” Imani said politely to the front desk attendant. Well, as politely as she could while keeping a safe distance. Because the front desk attendant appeared to be a very large, pink praying mantis. Imani wasn’t wild about bugs—especially not big ones. So bugs that were bigger than her, were definitely on her Avoid-at-all-costs list.

The mantis attendant twisted its triangular head, the overhead light glinting on its chitinous pink shell, and regarded Imani for a long moment.

“Ah yezz, I wazz told to expect you, Councilor Williamzzz,” it said in a high, buzzing voice. “Welcome to the Luxx. We are pleazzed to host you.”

“Uh, thank you.” Imani nodded gratefully—but still from a safe distance. She had seen a nature show about praying mantises when she was a kid. The way they grabbed their prey and gobbled them down, starting at the head, while the prey were still alive and twitching, was a scene she just couldn’t un-see.

“Let me zzee if I can find that packet for you,” the mantis desk attendant said helpfully. “Hmmm….” It turned to the wall behind and searched through a number of compartments until it found what it was looking for. “Here we are,” it buzzed and extended a thick brown envelope across the desk. “You are in room zzeven zzeventy-five—our penthouzze zzuite. Zzhall I call and attendant to help with your luggage?”

“No thank you,” Imani said quickly. “I don’t have much at all, see?” She held up the pink carry-all cube Kat had packed her miniaturized outfits into along with a dropper bottle of growth serum to enlarge them to proper size when she needed them. Right now they were all the size of Barbie clothes.

Imani wished she could leave them that way and not wear them at all. At the moment she was still wearing her regular, modest Earth clothing consisting of a button-down blouse and a pencil skirt. But she could already see that Kat had been right about how the Yonnites dressed. All across the opulent lobby, she saw women wearing the most elaborate—and skimpy—outfits she’d ever seen.

They’re all dressed like Vegas showgirls, she thought, watching as one Mistress walked by in a jewel-encrusted bikini with a long, trailing train made of feathers. She—like most of the other women—had a large, muscular body-slave trailing behind her on a leash attached to the thick black pain collar around his neck.

The pain collar was something all the male slaves seemed to be wearing—for some it was their only piece of clothing, though others had on either tight black leather trousers or black speedo-looking bottoms that clearly showed the bulge of their cock. Imani couldn’t help wincing as she watched one Mistress point a small remote at her slave and use it, punishing him for some minor infraction.

“Bad boy, Treav!” she exclaimed. “You must behave!”

The slave—a tall, hulking male that outmassed her three times over—winced and went stiff as the collar activated his pain receptors. A sound of pure agony was drawn from his lips.

“Mistress…” he gasped, his face turning purple. “Forgive me…please.”

Mercifully, the display was brief.

“Very well, don’t do it again.” The Mistress pressed the remote again and her bodyslave sagged in relief. “Now thank me for your punishment,” she demanded, frowning at him. “You know I only do it to keep you in line and help you be a good boy.”

The slave’s dark eyes flashed but his voice was impassive as he spoke.

“Thank you for my punishment, Mistress,” he said mechanically. “I know it’s for my own good.”

“It most certainly is!” the Mistress said, nodding decisively. “Now come along, Treav,” we can’t stand here loitering in the lobby forever.”

She gave a tug on the leash and the two of them started off again, crossing the vast marble lobby in brisk strides with the bodyslave staying a respectful three feet behind his Mistress.

But not all the slave and Mistress interactions Imani saw were quite so brutal. Just to her right, as she left the reception desk with the thick packet clutched to her chest, she saw a young blonde Mistress who looked like she couldn’t be older than her early twenties. Her slave was positively huge next to her petite frame—it was easy to see, because she was sitting on a circular padded bench upholstered in plush pink and gold velvet and he was right between her legs.

“Now, Karn,” she exclaimed, giggling as her huge bodyslave buried his face between her thighs and inhaled deeply, as though breathing in her scent. “Stop it! You know