Talukdar Qery came to escort me to the grand ball a few hours later and while seven
levels above us the men of the battalion fought back a dreadful suicidal attack by ‘Crats
who pushed a portable armored shield in front of them, I joined several hundred of the
Grey Race and their hangers-on for a night of fun and frivolity.
In a splendid ballroom, whose ceiling soared up through three levels of the bunker, we
partied through the night. It was called the N and M ball: Naked and Masked, and I arrived
on the arm of Talukdar Qery wearing naught apart from a pair of high heeled slippers and
an ornate mask. The Grand Matron had no doubt done an excellent job under the
circumstances, dusting my entire body with a coating which gave it something of the
fashionable grey sheen of the Edoonans, who appeared to make up about half of the guests
prancing about, while from a balcony above an orchestra played loudly enough to drown out
the thump of distant explosions.
The beautiful slim bodies of the Edoonan women were all about me, including no doubt
the two who had had such fun flogging my tits in the final days of my time in the cell,
although wearing masks it was impossible to identify them from the host of similar
Edoonans, all of whom seemed to sport the same type of rosy nipples atop perfect
breastworks. There were other races present too, and while most were attractive enough
they did not compare with the Grey Ladies.
I was having trouble with my heels; not being one to normally wear such things, and I
had to hold onto Talukdar Qery’s arm for support. My style of footwear was not uncommon,
especially among the non-Edoonans present, and gave some of us a little extra height as
well as forcing out our rear ends and even giving our bare breasts a better chance of
excelling.
The males were likewise masked, but while we ladies had to reveal all they merely had
costumes which were either cut away to leave the genitals hanging free or pouched to
display the prick and testicles to best advantage. My escort, Qery, wore a shimmering grey
suit with his equipment supported from below on a small rigid platform which presented his
genitals as if on a platter ready to be devoured. He was not an Edoonan, but I could
still not place his ancestry and as we walked into the great hall I asked him if he might
enlighten me.
“I’m a Zyzuvian,” he told me. I had to admit I’d never come across one of those
before.
“I would be surprised if you had,” he said. “There are so few of us left now, and all
in the service of The Emperor.”
Seems they were as ancient as the Edoonans, somewhat related in origin yet subservient
to them. Talukdar Qery was not a bad sort, I’d concluded. A harmless type, or one who at
least hadn’t yet had reason to hurt me.
A thought struck me: “Will The Emperor be here tonight?” I asked him.
“Of course, my dear. Malinus would never miss a masked ball.”
We danced, we ate, we paraded about to see and be seen. Qery passed ribald comments
about this man or that female as we made an entire circuit of the hall. It was a case of
decadence gone mad, although what else the Royal elite could have been doing while above
them their loyal soldiers fought to protect them I didn’t know. All the time I tried to
decide who might be The Emperor, but as with the masked females the Edoonan males all
appeared to be so similar as to be unable to be told apart under such circumstances.
That wasn’t so with some of the non-Edoonan guests, and presently I came face to face
with a familiar looking set of balls and their attendant prong…
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