PARTY NIGHT

Amy leaned over Megan's shoulder to check on her eye shadow in the mirror. "Is it too dark?"

Megan responded absently, concentrating on her own reflected face, "It's perfect, hon. Don't jostle me now, I'm trying to get my mascara just right." She finished, batted her eyes at her reflection, and nodded, straightening up. She looked at Amy. "Wait, one of your straps is twisted." She spent a moment fiddling with Amy's outfit. "Watch for that when you put it back on later."

Amy looked over her roommate and sighed. "You look so sensational! I've got to stop looking. I'll drag you to bed and we'll forget about the party."

Megan grinned. "I'd love to..." She winced. "Stop saying stuff like that. You're getting me wet, and this bottom has to last me all night." Megan had opted for a snow-princess look. Her two piece outfit was comprised of a minimum of fabric covered in snow-white fake fur, held together by white yarn-like strings. Her white eyeliner under ice-blue eye shadow continued the theme, which was intended to take advantage of her light blonde hair. The ensemble also showed off the full length of her legs, as if a guest might otherwise not have noticed them.

Amy looked down at herself. "At least you've got something down there. Don't you think I could wear panties with this? They won't show." Amy's outfit consisted of a tight, very short naturally-brown leather skirt, and a complex webwork of leather straps surrounding her from her shoulders midway to her waist, which held in place the cups of a bra that accentuated her cleavage while leaving the upper parts of her breasts uncovered nearly down to the nipples. The top was nevertheless designed to be easily removed and put back on again, almost like a t-shirt. With the muscular development of her back and tautness of her tummy, it looked incredibly sexy on her.

Megan shook her head, brushing her hair. "They would if you bend over. The guests want to see pussy, not panties."

Amy looked out of the bathroom as a knock sounded on the hallway door. "Who?"

"S'me." Shawna opened the door and looked in. "I just finished..." Her eyes suddenly popped wide open, looking back and forth between Amy and Megan. "Wow!"

Amy and Megan looked at each other and grinned, Amy saying, "Well, that's another vote in favor." She turned back to Shawna. "What's up?"

Shawna shook her head as she tried to recover her chain of thought. "Oh, I was saying I'd just finished with the equipment check." Shawna was going to be Lucy's monitor for the party. "And I've been working with Sela all afternoon. She really wants to impress everybody when she hangs tonight. I feel bad about cancelling out on you, Megan. Would tomorrow at one be okay?

Shawna had been coming by every few days for a practice hanging session with Megan, and had in turn been working with some of the other girls, including Sela and her roommate Monique. It would be natural for Sela to turn to Shawna for last-minute advice. Amy, of course, had her own group of girls she was advising, and some were working with Megan herself, the ultimate source of all technical wisdom. A number of the girls still found Megan a little intimidating -- no longer for anything Megan said, verbally or with body language, but just for her sheer virtuosity of technique.

Megan nodded. "I want to keep the focus on your desperation for now, more than the sex moves. That's really your strength. I love how you've added on that quivering with tension when you're stretched out trying to reach down with your toes."

Shawna beamed at the compliment. "Thanks." She saw the clock by the bed and gasped. "Oh, I'd better get going. I asked Lucy if she'd do one more walk-through before the party starts."

Amy nodded. "Sure. Good luck," Megan following with "See you later."

Amy had already done one last walk-through to satisfy Wendy, wandering randomly around the main party hall and her assigned bedroom in the pavilion, unable to think of anything more interesting to say than "Testing one-two-three" for the microphone check.

Megan turned back to Amy after Shawna left. "We've still got an hour to kill before the first guests arrive. Any ideas?"

Amy giggled. "Lots, but we can't do them. Even if we just kiss it'll mess up our lip gloss. Let's just watch some TV."

Megan nodded and clicked the remote. "You still worried about your brother?"

Amy sighed. "A little, but if he can get past you, his whole sex drive must be out of whack. You can recognize him, right?"

Erin had revealed an unknown drawing talent at the level of a professional police sketch artist as Amy had described Andrew to her, and Megan, after studying Erin's work, had said she thought she could spot Andrew no matter how dense the crowd became. "If I see anybody who comes close to looking like the drawing, I'll look at you, and you give me a little nod if it's him. So I won't get sidetracked by the wrong guy. I just hope he's there at the start. I'll try to hang onto at least one chit as long as I can, but I can't be rude if somebody wants one."

"I know. But if he's not there right at the start, he's probably not coming to this one. If he wants to make sure of seeing me, he'd know he has to get there early."

"Yeah." She reached out for Amy's hand and they sat together on their bed, trying to concentrate on the television.

Amy beamed as she entered the main hall, hearing several quick intakes of breath. She'd waited in line in the hallway as the girls entered one at a time to begin mingling with the guests. Her heart was fluttering, her eyes flicking quickly to both sides, but she concentrated on smiling and making eye contact with the nearest guests, trying to trust her subconscious to set off alarm bells at the first perception of Andrew.

She felt excited and, in spite of her worries, safe within the confines of the Academy. It occurred to her that this was the first time any outsider had seen her as a Hanging Girl, and she felt buoyed by pride.

The hall looked a little different from her earlier walk-throughs, when Wendy had tested out the equipment that would track and record her movements and conversation. The walls were hung with festive, colorful crepe draperies and balloons. Music, very muted, was coming through hidden speakers.

In the very center of the big room, there now stood a standard hanging platform, with a noose dangling above it. The platform was enclosed in a cage of vertical metal bars, spaced about eight inches apart, with a square base about six feet on a side. When Sela was hanged here later, guests would be able to watch her from any side. The cage would discourage over-excited onlookers from giving in to the impulse to reach out to touch her as she dangled.

Amy tried to push out of her mind the slight self-consciousness at knowing that Wendy was watching her now from her tiny monitoring station near the pavilion.

The reaction that had greeted Amy's arrival was repeated, magnified, a moment later, and her smile broadened. She knew, without looking behind her, that Megan had entered. The gasps were quite audible this time.

Above the general background noise, she could hear Jackie's delighted laugh. Turning in that direction, she managed to catch Jackie's eye, and Jackie flashed a grin in Amy's direction before turning back to the guest she was talking to.

An elegant-looking woman, dressed in a dark blue, expensive-looking and businesslike skirt and matching jacket, in her mid-thirties by Amy's estimation, stepped in front of Amy, somehow without seeming rude, and smiled at her, saying, "How are you tonight, dear?"

Amy quickly riffled through all her memories to try to decide whether she'd ever met the woman. She flashed the lady a friendly smile. "Just got here. I'm trying to get used to the noise. I'm really sorry, have we met before?" Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw Megan take up the position they'd agreed on, to Amy's left and just slightly ahead of her, facing towards Amy to watch for any signals. Megan raised her eyebrows questioningly. Amy gave her a smile, a small shrug, and a tiny headshake, not having seen Andrew yet. Megan quickly became the center of a small circle of guests. Amy noticed she herself was starting to attract a small crowd, with three men and another woman standing politely within earshot, letting the first woman continue speaking with Amy. There was something about the lady, an aura of authority, which left others reluctant to intrude.

The woman smiled again, and took a sip from the drink she was holding. "My turn to apologize. I should have introduced myself and not left you looking puzzled like that. My name is Grace Millan, and I know your name is Amy, but we've never met. I own a small company that sub-contracts with your father's corporation. Your father has a picture of you on his desk, and the last time I was there he told me you'd been admitted to the Academy. I can tell you he was every bit the proud father." Grace beamed at Amy.

Amy was thrilled at the idea her father might be telling others about her Academy career -- it had never occurred to her somehow. "Thank you for telling me, ma'am. Now, as flattering as it would be, you can't convince me you came tonight just to see me."

To Amy's surprise, the woman colored slightly as she laughed. Amy suspected Grace wasn't made self-conscious very often. "Well, I do come here once or twice a year. Usually I'm doing it to window shop, with the Third Year girls mostly, to see if I might want to buy one. But I did think it would be nice to see the girl in the picture come to life. And I have to tell you," Grace's eyes did a quick up-and-down on Amy's body, giving a slight head-shake in wonder, "The photo doesn't really tell the whole story. I know the Academy encourages physical fitness but..." The up and down look again. "Haven't you only been here a couple of months?"

Amy laughed. "I guess it just seems longer, ma'am. Especially in the gym. But yes, they do like us to get in shape."

Grace gave Amy a smile that looked, to Amy, thoughtful. "I'm picturing what you'd look like in three years."

Amy's eyes flew open. "Do you think you'd like to buy me, ma'am?" It hadn't occurred to Amy that she might work out a purchase so far in advance, but being bought by someone who worked with her father had some attractions.

Grace shook her head, looking wistful. "I'd love to wait for you, but I don't think I'll be able to do it. I've been grooming my executive VP to take over the company, and she'll be ready in about another year. I'm looking forward to being roasted and eaten at a big company picnic -- no date set yet, but I don't think I want to wait more than about another eighteen months. I'm thirty-eight, so I shouldn't really wait much longer than that."

Amy hid her disappointment, and the thought returned to her that she needed to get rid of her chits in a hurry, before Andrew appeared. She smiled again at Grace. "Well, if you did come here hoping to meet me, we probably ought to spend some time together, ma'am." She arched her back just slightly to thrust her breasts forward, and looked directly into Grace's eyes, her lips slightly parted. It was as direct an invitation as she was allowed to give. The hostesses were instructed not to invite a guest to a private room in so many words, but hints and body language were within bounds. Amy suspected that over the next three years, she'd learn how to be a little more subtle about it.

Grace's lips parted. Her voice suddenly breathier, she responded, "I'd like that. Do you have a chit left?"

Amy's eyes lit up. Her first customer! She reached into the shallow pocket of her skirt and pulled out a chit, repeating, "Just got here, ma'am."

Grace accepted the chit, her fingers lingering on Amy's. "See you in about fifteen minutes?"

Amy nodded. "I should be ready then. I'll be in room seventeen."

Grace nodded and lifted her drink. "I'm going to freshen this up. Shall I get you one?"

Amy shook her head. "Oh, no ma'am, I'm fine." Grace no doubt knew that the bar had non-alcoholic drinks for the hostesses, so there was no problem about getting a drink, but Amy wanted to turn her attention to her other patiently-waiting suitors. As Grace gave her another nod and walked away, Amy turned to the man on her right. He was young, close to Andrew's age, tall and good-looking. The man on her right was older, perhaps forty. It surprised her that the younger man could afford a membership, but perhaps he'd come by it the same way Andrew had. She favored him with a smile. "Hi, I'm Amy. Have you been here before, sir?"

The man grinned. "A few times. Nice way to spend an evening. I'm Stan." He held his hand out for Amy to shake, his gaze drifting down to Amy's cleavage.

With polite nods, Amy's other admirers, the other woman and the third man, drifted off to chat with other girls, clearly realizing Amy would be completely booked momentarily. Amy turned to the older man remaining with her. "And you, sir? Are you a regular?"

He was shorter, about Amy's height, with glasses and thinning hair. He looked like an accountant, though presumably, since he was here, he must have a higher-paying job than that. He smiled at her, stiffly but earnestly. "Oh yes, very much so. My name is Benjamin." Amy shook his hand. "I come to familiarize myself with the current students -- window shopping, as the woman here earlier put it," he looked briefly back at Grace, "And I do enjoy watching the hanging -- particularly the First Year girls, though their shows are much shorter than the girls with more training. Their lack of experience in itself is very charming, and there's a poignancy to their performance that I often miss with the older girls." Though he did seem to be looking over Amy's body, he did often fix his attention on her at eye-level, in contrast with the younger man. "You look quite intelligent and responsible, if you're not offended by a snap judgment. I take it I should not expect to see you hang anytime soon?"

Amy laughed, thoroughly charmed. "I don't think so, sir, though I guess you can never be sure. I do expect to graduate."

She glanced back at Stan, who grinned and turned to speak to Benjamin. "She obviously has two chits left. Why don't you go ahead and take the earlier time? I don't mind waiting."

Benjamin looked pleased. "That's very decent of you." He turned back to Amy. "If that's all right with you?"

She beamed at them and reached into her pocket. "Oh, sure. I'm looking forward to getting to know both of you better." She glanced over at Megan and grinned, giving her a thumbs up gesture. Megan grinned back, and turned to the man and the woman remaining with her. As Amy waved at the departing Stan and Benjamin and started threading her way through the crowd towards the entrance to the corridor of hospitality rooms, she heard Megan saying, "Listen, I only have one chit left, but if one of you can be patient, I promise I'll look for you at the start of the next party. Is that okay?" Amy was too far away to hear the response.

Grace was already on a sofa in the waiting area as Amy entered the hospitality suite. Amy smiled at her. Grace returned the smile and, unasked, handed Amy the ticket she had received at the cashier's window, where she had turned in the chit Amy had given her and paid for her time with Amy. Amy bent down and gave Grace a friendly kiss on the cheek, and held out her hand. Grace took it and rose, and followed Amy to her room.

Amy stopped in front of the bed, and started, "What would you like me to..." She stopped suddenly and blinked, as Grace had, without hesitation, walked over to the cabinet in the wall beyond the bed, extracting a leash and the whip. Amy took a quick second look at Grace's ticket. Yes, she saw, Grace had paid extra for unrestricted access to the toys.

Most guests, the students had been assured, simply wanted straight sex. However, the Academy provided, for the small percentage of guests with more exotic tastes, a selection of various types of toys, which any guest was welcome to use for an extra fee.

Amy's stomach fluttered suddenly. She'd had no clue, when talking with Grace at the party, that the woman would be interested in something other than a sex partner. Amy eyed the whip, biting her lip. It wasn't one of the really bad kind, of course, and was intended purely for recreational D&S. It sported, at the end of a stiff but somewhat flexible shaft, an attachment resembling a small fly swatter. Amy had tried it out on herself in preparation for the party. It was stingingly painful, but had little potential for inflicting any serious or long-lasting damage. It was the sort often used by masters and mistresses on their slaves if they preferred them without permanent markings.

Amy had to trust Wendy to be watching her monitor closely. Wendy's job here, in addition to observing and learning, would be to make sure the session didn't get out of hand. Of course, Grace would have her membership revoked if she actually injured one of the girls, and might even be criminally charged if the damage was bad enough, as she was only renting Amy -- in such a case most likely she would be executed, since she was a woman. But, Amy knew, it was often hard to remember things like that during the heat of passion.

Amy had to rely on the knowledge that such injuries were extremely rare. It had been five years since a member had been kicked out for hurting a girl. And fifty years since one had been executed. Also, Grace's familiarity with the room made it obvious she had done this before, and evidently nothing bad had happened. That thought allowed Amy to breathe a bit easier.

Grace faced Amy and executed a complex flourish with the whip. "All right, slave Amy, off with those clothes."

Amy had at least been expecting that much. She wasn't exactly dressed as a normal slave. "Yes, ma'am." She kicked off her shoes, pulled the leather-strap top up over her head, and slid the short skirt down her legs and off, tossing all of the clothing into the corner of the room, straightening to stand again looking at Grace, naked except for her Academy collar. She put her hands behind her, taking pride in the development of her body that the many hours in the gym had produced.

Grace frowned. "While we're here, you're to address me as Mistress. Speak only to say 'Yes, Mistress' or respond to a question, and keep your eyes down."

Amy quickly flicked her eyes down to Grace's feet. "Yes, Mistress." She felt herself flushing slightly. The temporariness of the arrangement made it a game, but the treatment still stung. She had had a few months now to accommodate to the fact of actually being a slave, which muted, somewhat, her ire at being treated as one. Still, the Academy itself had never treated her that way, other than during that one undeserved punishment.

What upset her the most, she knew, was the absence of respect for her status as a Hanging Girl. Amy admitted to herself that she really wasn't officially one yet, not until she graduated. But she felt her admission alone had earned her something better than this.

Grace made a come-here gesture with the whip. Amy worked to bury her feelings and accept that this session would be one prolonged insult to her status. It suddenly occurred to her why Grace had seemed excited to see her, in particular, tonight. It was easy to imagine that dealing with Amy's father must be a humbling experience for Grace, who was clearly accustomed to dominating a situation -- Amy had perceived that much about Grace in the first seconds after contact with her, in the main party room. The opportunity to treat Preston Cameron's daughter as a pleasure toy was no doubt very sweet to Grace.

As Amy reached Grace, her eyes downcast as required, Grace made another gesture with the whip, which seemed to mean "kneel down." As Amy did so, Grace reached down and lifted up the front of her own skirt. Amy saw that Grace had worn no panties. Grace's pussy, at Amy's eye level, glistened in response to the woman's excitement.

Wendy is watching, Amy remembered, and suddenly Amy looked more deeply into that fact than the mere protection from harm that it offered. Part of the monitor's job was simply to learn from observing one of the other girls performing her duties as a hostess. If Amy did anything noteworthy, either especially well or especially badly, the videos of the session would likely be viewed more widely, possibly by the class as a whole. In any case, Amy was determined to uphold the high standards expected of any Academy Girl.

And, she thought, I'll be damned if I'll give Grace any excuse to use that whip on me. Academy Girls know how to please their owners. That's my goal here. No need for the whip. No need for spoken words. Understanding what Grace wants from the smallest hint. I can do that. I want Miranda to be proud of me.

And at least, she reminded herself, it's not Andrew. Amy nearly giggled, still giddy with relief over having dodged that bullet. Grace has paid the Academy for the privilege of treating me this way, and that's her business. I'll do the best job I know how, and maybe I'll learn something from it, and maybe the other girls can learn something too, from seeing the video. That's the only meaning this has for me.

Amy leaned forward, her hands held behind her back, and pressed her chin between the tops of Grace's thighs. Best angle, she thought, and Grace can see my face, which I'm sure she'll like.

She thrust her tongue up between the folds of Grace's pussy and began licking enthusiastically. Presently Grace closed her eyes and moaned.