.
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CHAPTER 4 THE BALL
.
.
.
The Ball was everything to be expected of such an occasion and more.
Before the ball was the formal dinner. Lord Murr and Lady Dat sat opposite each other at the banqueting hall, as did Lord Dat and Lady Murr next to them. Lord Murr was unwashed and in animal furs very much as if he was at a boasting a drinking banquette at home although he did demonstrate diplomatic neutral table manners. His wife the Lady Murr was dressed in an attractive universally accepted dress, showing much cleavage and leg and was helping herself too much of the exquisite wine.
The Royalty of Dat was in modest plain grey shapeless jumpsuits. Lady Dat who married into and not born of the Dat world pleaded with her husband to be allowed to wear fashion away from home but was denied. Despite being by far the richer of the two worlds.
The two worlds being very much opposite in so many ways had little common ground to say to each other although the Lady’s made some extended attempts at inoffensive small talk.
Lady Murr who had also married into her husband’s house looked on in envy at Lady Dat’s refined controlled polite husband, Drank heavily. While Lady Dat envied Lady Murr’s jewels and dress. Lord Murr ate large portions of rare cooked, rare species meat. Lord Dat along with his wife ate their plain brown bread and water. But Lord Dat found himself having thoughts alien to him. Despite himself, he found himself staring at Lady Murr’s ample firm breast. The only person who noticed was Lady Murr herself who ignored it as a massive compliment. ‘After all’, she told herself ‘was that not the whole point of a plunging neckline’. She was quite faltered that she could exert such an effect on someone whose entire culture was based on denial and self-control. She drank yet more wine.
Angel smiled in self-satisfaction. She activated his imagination towards imaging those breasts naked. On how they might hang. On the possible size and colour of the nipples. On how they might contrast against those slender hips. The perfume was working but Angel was doing her part.
But still, she had to be careful not to allow self-recrimination and self-loathing to spoil the effect. This was difficult in the extreme as it was his most natural response from way before he had the emotional prosthetic implanted. Through his preoccupied mind, he registered bits of conversation.
“Will you dance with me tonight, love,” Lady Murr asked her Husband.
“I was planning to kill barehanded some monster in the fighting pits.” He replied.
“But you can do that at home!” Exclaimed Lady Murr.
Baron Murr shrugged. Lady Murr didn’t push the point but only because they were in polite company.
“Do you dance?” Lady Murr asked Lady Dat.
“We are taught how to for diplomatic occasions and to quite a high standard but never at home. It is seen as an extravagance.” Then added under her breath with much sadness, “as is much else,”
Then Lady Dat had an idea. A mischievous kernel designed to make her husband have to make some gesture of an effort, Some concession towards the occasion.
“My husband will dance with you,” she offered with a smile “Afterall, he never dances at home and had no plans to dance with me tonight, so he is quite free,”
Lord Dat looked up with a hunted expression on his face.
“Sorry,” he exclaimed, “I missed that,”
“You are going to dance with Lady Murr tonight,” Grinned Lady Dat then added, “For diplomatic reasons.”
“I’m sure her husband…” Lord Dat started.
“No, that is fine by me!” Broke in Lord Murr “I find dancing boring anyway. I am glad to be left off the hook. I'd much rather kill something.”
Lord Dat realized it would be insulting to refuse and put on his diplomatic face, “It would be an honour, my Lady,” Although he hadn’t admitted it to himself he longed ‘to hold her close, around the waist, hip to hip.’ (Angel added to his subconscious thoughts).
To Lord Dat the meal seemed to pass with aching slowness. By now he knew his emotional prosthetic was not working and berated himself for missing his last servicing appointment. He had just taken the little gadget for granted. Like a pair of glasses, you don’t miss until you need to read the paper.
The time of the dance arrived. Lord Dat took Lady Murr onto the dance floor and they danced. The dance fashion was ball dancing but leaning towards styles where the couple’s bodies pressed close together.
The combination of Angel and the Pheromones had the obvious physical side effect. He prayed that he was not blushing as his erect penis pressed into Lady Murr’s belly.
Lady Murr, who thoroughly enjoyed dancing that was so superior to her unrefined husband, giggled to herself at the situation and due to her intoxicated state.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered “It will be our little secret,”
Lord Dat mortified that she had not had the breeding to ignore his situation entirely.
Lady Murr loved her husband dearly but was worse the wear for drink, and thought ‘Ill give him one kiss, something to have him think about while he shags his wife tonight!” The thought of being some supper controlled man's fantasy that night inflated her self-esteem. She waited until she was on the far side of the ballroom.
She kissed him.
For a brief moment, he kissed her back.
Then a lifetime of service and self-control flooded his mind despite Angel’s best efforts. He felt deep, deep shame and humiliation at his weakness in a public place in a situation totally foreign to him.
He slapped her face, Hard.
Lady Murr screamed in shock. She was stunned as her own humiliation flushed her now already red cheek. She ran from the room in tears.
Lord Dat stood there surrounded by stareing people. His defeat and shame complete.
Angel made her escape, which was by no means easy. Through her drugged fog (thanks to her smoking sister) and alerted Net security she barely made it back. But this is a long story in itself. In short, she had succeeded!
War was now inevitable!
.
.
OR
.
!
BOLOX BALL
.
By Ross Lombardi
.
Copyright 2011 Ross Lombardi
.
CHAPTER 4 THE BALL
.
.
.
The Ball was everything to be expected of such an occasion and more.
Before the ball was the formal dinner. Lord Murr and Lady Dat sat opposite each other at the banqueting hall, as did Lord Dat and Lady Murr next to them. Lord Murr was unwashed and in animal furs very much as if he was at a boasting a drinking banquette at home although he did demonstrate diplomatic neutral table manners. His wife the Lady Murr was dressed in an attractive universally accepted dress, showing much cleavage and leg and was helping herself too much of the exquisite wine.
The Royalty of Dat was in modest plain grey shapeless jumpsuits. Lady Dat who married into and not born of the Dat world pleaded with her husband to be allowed to wear fashion away from home but was denied. Despite being by far the richer of the two worlds.
The two worlds being very much opposite in so many ways had little common ground to say to each other although the Lady’s made some extended attempts at inoffensive small talk.
Lady Murr who had also married into her husband’s house looked on in envy at Lady Dat’s refined controlled polite husband, Drank heavily. While Lady Dat envied Lady Murr’s jewels and dress. Lord Murr ate large portions of rare cooked, rare species meat. Lord Dat along with his wife ate their plain brown bread and water. But Lord Dat found himself having thoughts alien to him. Despite himself, he found himself staring at Lady Murr’s ample firm breast. The only person who noticed was Lady Murr herself who ignored it as a massive compliment. ‘After all’, she told herself ‘was that not the whole point of a plunging neckline’. She was quite faltered that she could exert such an effect on someone whose entire culture was based on denial and self-control. She drank yet more wine.
Angel smiled in self-satisfaction. She activated his imagination towards imaging those breasts naked. On how they might hang. On the possible size and colour of the nipples. On how they might contrast against those slender hips. The perfume was working but Angel was doing her part.
But still, she had to be careful not to allow self-recrimination and self-loathing to spoil the effect. This was difficult in the extreme as it was his most natural response from way before he had the emotional prosthetic implanted. Through his preoccupied mind, he registered bits of conversation.
“Will you dance with me tonight, love,” Lady Murr asked her Husband.
“I was planning to kill barehanded some monster in the fighting pits.” He replied.
“But you can do that at home!” Exclaimed Lady Murr.
Baron Murr shrugged. Lady Murr didn’t push the point but only because they were in polite company.
“Do you dance?” Lady Murr asked Lady Dat.
“We are taught how to for diplomatic occasions and to quite a high standard but never at home. It is seen as an extravagance.” Then added under her breath with much sadness, “as is much else,”
Then Lady Dat had an idea. A mischievous kernel designed to make her husband have to make some gesture of an effort, Some concession towards the occasion.
“My husband will dance with you,” she offered with a smile “Afterall, he never dances at home and had no plans to dance with me tonight, so he is quite free,”
Lord Dat looked up with a hunted expression on his face.
“Sorry,” he exclaimed, “I missed that,”
“You are going to dance with Lady Murr tonight,” Grinned Lady Dat then added, “For diplomatic reasons.”
“I’m sure her husband…” Lord Dat started.
“No, that is fine by me!” Broke in Lord Murr “I find dancing boring anyway. I am glad to be left off the hook. I'd much rather kill something.”
Lord Dat realized it would be insulting to refuse and put on his diplomatic face, “It would be an honour, my Lady,” Although he hadn’t admitted it to himself he longed ‘to hold her close, around the waist, hip to hip.’ (Angel added to his subconscious thoughts).
To Lord Dat the meal seemed to pass with aching slowness. By now he knew his emotional prosthetic was not working and berated himself for missing his last servicing appointment. He had just taken the little gadget for granted. Like a pair of glasses, you don’t miss until you need to read the paper.
The time of the dance arrived. Lord Dat took Lady Murr onto the dance floor and they danced. The dance fashion was ball dancing but leaning towards styles where the couple’s bodies pressed close together.
The combination of Angel and the Pheromones had the obvious physical side effect. He prayed that he was not blushing as his erect penis pressed into Lady Murr’s belly.
Lady Murr, who thoroughly enjoyed dancing that was so superior to her unrefined husband, giggled to herself at the situation and due to her intoxicated state.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered “It will be our little secret,”
Lord Dat mortified that she had not had the breeding to ignore his situation entirely.
Lady Murr loved her husband dearly but was worse the wear for drink, and thought ‘Ill give him one kiss, something to have him think about while he shags his wife tonight!” The thought of being some supper controlled man's fantasy that night inflated her self-esteem. She waited until she was on the far side of the ballroom.
She kissed him.
For a brief moment, he kissed her back.
Then a lifetime of service and self-control flooded his mind despite Angel’s best efforts. He felt deep, deep shame and humiliation at his weakness in a public place in a situation totally foreign to him.
He slapped her face, Hard.
Lady Murr screamed in shock. She was stunned as her own humiliation flushed her now already red cheek. She ran from the room in tears.
Lord Dat stood there surrounded by stareing people. His defeat and shame complete.
Angel made her escape, which was by no means easy. Through her drugged fog (thanks to her smoking sister) and alerted Net security she barely made it back. But this is a long story in itself. In short, she had succeeded!
War was now inevitable!
.
.
OR
.
!
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