Categories > Celebrities > Beatles > Xanadu
Disclaimer: The Mistress is entirely her own beast, and the eunuchs belong to her. However, most of the other characters here (including the castle) belong to lots of other people, and I'm just borrowing them. They are from the following fictions: Star Trek; Smallville; The Gormenghast Trilogy; Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Dave Lister (and his robot goldfish, Lennon and McCartney), Arnold Rimmer and the Cat come from Red Dwarf; Roj Blake, Kerr Avon, Olag Gan and Vila Restal are from Blake's 7, Severus Snape comes from Harry Potter. If you want to know what Mistress's Hounds look like, then read David Eddings' Belgariad. They resemble the Hounds of Torak rather too closely for the comfort of Mistress's housemates.
Notes: My apologies for the Beatles' accents - I'm not an expert at Scouse.
Mistress gazed at herself in the full length mirror before her. She nodded once. As she had expected, she was physically perfect. Not a single flaw marred her body. Not one wrinkle appeared in her taffeta ball-gown. The taffeta ball gown was her current whim, as were the totteringly high stiletto heels she wore on her feet. Not being subject to the usual taunts and blows of reality, she found them perfectly comfortable and easy to walk in.
Turning, she headed out of her cavernous dressing room and walked out into the rest of the castle. Two enormous eunuchs stiffened to attention as she walked between them. She ignored them, as she usually did, and headed towards the parlour, and breakfast.
The castle was one of those buildings that could only exist in cyberspace, as was Mistress herself. Distressingly similar to that fictional castle, Gormenghast, only the section that Mistress herself lived in was not actually falling down. The region of the mansion that was dedicated to Star Trek and all its incarnations, for example, had huge leaks in the roof, while the characters huddled under tarpaulins in an attempt to keep dry, with campfires to keep them at least a little warm. The single room dedicated to Smallville was in a similar condition, although it had come and fallen into an advanced state of disrepair much more quickly than some of the other rooms. The rooms inhabited by Buffy and her friends were barely hanging in there.
The main focus of her attention was the suite of rooms that she normally lived in. As she strode into the entrance hall and looked around, she noticed several people react to her entrance. Severus Snape looked briefly alarmed before he forced his face into a more careless expression and walked away into the library. Mistress's eyes narrowed at his departure. He was on somewhat shaky ground, although he didn't seem to realise it. Some of the decorations in his room were starting to look somewhat shabby. She was starting to get tired of his attitudes and moods, of his constant refusal to worship the ground she walked on. She was God. She was supposed to be worshipped. Or feared. She didn't mind which, as long as grovelling was involved.
Across the room, Arnold Rimmer shot off a snappy salute. It had only taken her a week of torture to cure him of his tendency to use the Double Rimmer salute and some of its more ridiculous variations instead of the conventional salute. "Miss Mistress, Ma'am," he said, "How may I serve you today?"
Mistress frowned, and turned to face him. Rimmer was a fixture in the halls, and served her perfectly as a butler. "Breakfast," she told him. "Smoked salmon omelette, orange juice, and a small coffee." She walked towards the parlour as he bowed to her. She had him well trained, now.
She parked herself in an upright chair with a small table beside it, and looked out the window into the mountains that stretched away in front of her. Numerous courtyards scattered through the castle allowed her to cultivate the gardens she loved, since the castle itself was perched on a remote and barely accessible mountain peak which allowed for very few visitors. She didn't encourage visitors. As a result, on the other side of the window she looked out of, there was an apparently bottomless abyss. If she had walked to the window and looked to her left, she would have been able to see the precarious rope bridge arcing over the abyss, between the castle and the badly potholed and barely passible track which lead down to civilisation.
There was something missing. Something that the castle wanted. It had recently sprouted a completely new suite of rooms nearby, furnished with beanbags and guitars and an oddly painted upright piano. However, the rooms remained unfilled, and Mistress knew that, as an avatar (and therefore practically a goddess), there was something that she was supposed to get. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite figured out what, yet.
There was a polite cough behind her, and Rimmer came around the corner to deposit the breakfast tray on the little table. "Smoked salmon omelette, freshly squeezed orange juice, and fresh brewed coffee, ma'am," he said.
"Thankyou," she replied absently, and took a sip of the juice. Naturally, it was perfect. "What's missing, Rimmer?" she asked.
The answer came not from Rimmer, but from his scruffy Scouse room-mate. Why they insisted on sharing a room when the mansion was full of empty rooms was beyond her, but she'd given up suggesting that they get separate rooms.
"Lennon and McCartney!" Lister told them. "Cat has stolen Lennon and McCartney!"
"Why you don't put a lock on that fish tank is beyond me," Mistress told him. "The Cat wouldn't be able to steal your blasted robot goldfish if...."
She trailed off. That was it. That was the perfect way to fill the gap the castle had so nicely created for her. The Beatles. A nice little "quartet" to inhabit the ballroom. The cute one, the quiet one, the funny one, and the sarcastic one. With one or all of them to play with, they should hang around for a lot longer than Giles had. All she had to do now, was catch them.
So thinking, she started eating her breakfast and trying to decide whereabouts in cyberspace she should get them from. Which fiction should she steal them from? It was rather a pity that... She stopped. But then again, those rooms that Roj Blake and his crew inhabited were in rather better shape than they used to be. A few accomplices would make the task a little easier for her. Which ones? Vila, definitely. Having Avon around would be overkill, though. Gan wouldn't. As long as he didn't try to kill anyone, he'd be useful. Hmmm, better take Lister with her as well. As a Scouser himself, he might be able to take them places that she couldn't.
Having decided on what to do, Mistress went to get changed and round up her accomplices. It wasn't long before they all appeared from various locations. Somehow, they'd heard what their mission was to be, and they were all dressed in what they imagined would make them all look inconspicuous. Oh, well, she though. I guess that means we go and grab them from Help! At least this bunch won't look any more ridiculous there than the other characters do.
She sighed, and they headed off to go to the movies.
They soon founds themselves in a gentle woodland clearing, studded with British wildflowers and lots of soft focus. There were birds singing in the trees, and, not far away, four young men were fooling around. Mistress gestured to her two attendant eunuchs, and they had soon captured the quartet. The eunuchs marched back toward her, each holding two of the youths - each in one outstretched and meaty hand.
Mistress looked them over carefully. Sure enough, these were the ones she wanted. "Well, that was easier than I had thought they'd be. Come on."
And they left again. Soon enough, they were back in the castle and the Beatles were safely locked away in the suite of rooms that the castle had prepared for them. "Well done, all of you," she told her henchmen happily. She looked them over. They had all come through without so much as a ... "Alright," she snapped, her good humour evaporating in an instant. "Where's Gan?"
"Um, I think he stopped to pick some flowers, ma'am," Lister volunteered.
"Flowers?"
Mistress's mood was nothing if not mercurial, and this information soon switched her back from angry to happy again. Gan rather liked flowers. He rarely got the chance to pick flowers. Mistress was a benevolent Avatar, and generally preferred her minions to be happy, if she could possibly manage it without too much inconvenience. Besides, she could always retrieve him later, if necessary.
"Very well. Thankyou, all."
She gestured to her two attendants, and they went to where the castle's newest inhabitants were ensconced. John and George were looking out of the window, which displayed another sheer drop into a bottomless canyon.
"Have a look at this!" George told the other two. Paul and Ringo went to the window and looked.
"Better not try climbing out the window then," Paul said sagely.
"You can forget the door, too," Mistress told them cheerfully. "It's well guarded."
The quartet whirled around. They looked the two eunuchs up and down. "We can take them," John sneered. "Can't we, lads."
"Yeah," George agreed, coming over to stand just behind John.
The others agreed, also.
Mistress sighed. It always came down to this when people first arrived. She gestured to one of the eunuchs, and handed him an iron bar. Obligingly, he twisted the thing into a shape resembling a pretzel, and handed it politely to John. John took it, and tried to untwist it. He was unable to shift it. He grabbed one end, and George grabbed the other. They both pulled, and were still unable to shift it. Paul and Ringo joined in, and with much shouting, they were still unable to bend the bar in any way, shape or form.
"I guess we'll be staying here, then," Ringo said, resigned. "At least here we don't have anybody trying to cut my hand off."
"You will be well protected here," Mistress assured them. From out in the corridor, however, there came shouts and yells and the sound of blaster fire.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" she snapped, and marched imperiously out into the corridor. Behind her she could hear George ask, "How does she march imperiously then?" Paul and John both attempted imitations and did so rather badly.
She shut the door firmly behind her, suspecting that this was going to make life in the castle rather interesting. Abruptly, Vila and Avon came barrelling past her with several figures in black jumpsuits and evil looking black helmets in hot pursuit. Mistress was forced to jump out of the way as the Federation soldiers showed no sign of stopping. Her eyes widened in fury, and her mouth set in a hard line. That did it. She summoned her eunuchs, and sent them to seek, locate, and forcibly remove all intruders.
Scowling blackly, she headed for her bedroom and its cavernous wardrobe. If she was going to be repelling intruders, then she was going to make sure she was properly dressed for the part.
Behind her, the four lads from Liverpool stared at the door that had been shut in front of them. It clanged, somewhat like a dungeon door. "We've got to get out of here," Paul said.
"Yeah," Ringo agreed. "We've got to do something about my ring, too."
John tried the door. It was unlocked. Not only unlocked, it was also unguarded. The four of them exchanged glances, and went out into the corridor. A horde of screaming fangirls appeared, and rushed towards them. Instinct took over, and the quartet ran for their lives.
In another part of the castle, Mistress sensed the latest intruders, and swore. She had an extensive vocabulary, and wasn't afraid to voice it when she felt the situation deserved it. She pulled on a revealing leather harness, and put a pair of leather trousers and stiletto boots on over the top. Donning a peaked hat reminiscent of Nazi Germany embossed with the bound and gagged figure of a muscular man in place of the normal figures and snatching up a nasty-looking whip, she strode down the corridor towards the disturbance. She had designed her castle so that she wouldn't have to put up with this sort of nonsense, and now she was going to do something about them.
She gestured imperiously at her eunuchs, and they fell into step behind her. In a matter of minutes, she reached her control room. It was incongruously high-tech, filled with banks of computers. It was manned by yet more eunuchs. "Activate the fire wall," she ordered one of them. He pressed a couple of buttons, and an enormous wall of flame appeared out of the bottomless canyon that surrounded the castle. "That should keep anybody else out," she said. "Locate everybody on the scanners."
It soon appeared that, with the exception of the Beatles and Blake and his crew, all her acquisitions had gathered in the foyer - apparently for protection. Not that they were in any real danger. She'd managed to keep out all of their opponents.
The Beatles were headed for one of the more derelict parts of the castle. It was also one of the more dangerous parts, since walls, floor, and ceiling all were contributing to the general atmosphere of moulder in the area. It was where the Star Trek crew called home these days, and all the once-pristine mock-spaceship walls were covered with green slime, dirt, and scorch marks. In some areas, the floor had given way completely, exposing the grid of cyberspace beneath. The inhabitants of the area had rigged up planks and ropes to get around these areas, and Mistress hoped that they would get across them alright.
"Take a squad down and distract those fangirls," Mistress told one of her nameless eunuchs. "I don't want the boys to get knocked into the grid. God knows what will happen to them down there." With a nod, the eunuch slipped out of the door.
Back in the control room, Mistress watched the monitors. It wouldn't be long before they vanished from the screens completely. The monitors were few and far between down there, and most of them didn't work. She was worried. She didn't really know if her eunuchs would show up in time or not, or even whether the Beatles were athletic enough to make it through the Star Trek zone of her castle. Added to that, she also had a nasty suspicion that somebody else had sent the fangirls and the Federation troops.
Speaking of which, she could see them on her monitor, chasing Blake and his friends around the place. She frowned. It looked suspiciously like they would run into either the fangirls or the Beatles sometime soon. That could be a problem. As she watched, a squad of her eunuchs pelted past, looking as though they were primitives in search of a tribe rather than an elite squad of soldiers, clad as they were in scanty loincloths and displaying large amounts of muscle. They soon caught up with the fangirls, scattering them in all directions.
The Beatles, however, had disappeared off the screen.
Eunuchs and fangirls mixed, and the girls unanimously decided to scream and cower in corners. Mistress sneered. It was, in her mind, a pathetic display. The only proper place for a man was naked and bound at a woman's feet. It was a gesture of generosity on Mistress's behalf that she allowed them to wander around the castle unfettered. She didn't mind. As long as they remembered to grovel and call her Ma'am, they were tolerated. Her friend Isis thought she was being rather too generous to them - but then, Isis preferred her men seen and not heard, and kept them in leather harness and chains.
Behind her, the door slid open, and just as quickly slid shut again. Mistress turned to see the Beatles standing there, looking around in bewilderment. The room they had walked into contrasted greatly with the castle they had been in. It was gleaming white, and looked far beyond even the Scientist's laboratory. Not that that was difficult. To Mistress's mind, The Scientist's lab was primitive, and not fit to be walked in. And that assistant of his was worse than useless. Although if he turned up, she wouldn't mind making him Master of the Hounds. Of course, he might be a little alarmed at what the Hounds looked like. Not to mention their diet.
"Hello, luv," Paul said, catching his breath. Apparently he hadn't been looking as closely at what she was wearing as the other three had, because their eyes had widened, and they had turned to the door again. The Eunuchs, however, had obeyed Mistress's long standing orders, and locked the door.
John, Ringo, and George, clearly recognising Mistress's natural .... erm ... authority, were scrabbling at the door and yelling, "Let us out! Let us out!"
Paul looked at them, bewildered, and then looked again at Mistress's outfit.
"You're not one of those ghastly lesbian dykes, are you?" he asked.
Silence fell.
Ringo started to whimper.
Mistress's eyes narrowed. "Oh, no," she said sweetly. "I like men." She bared her teeth in a manner that almost - but not quite - suggested a smile. "I like men a lot."
Paul frowned, slightly. Something wasn't right here.
"For dinner."
Her eunuchs lunged.
Notes: My apologies for the Beatles' accents - I'm not an expert at Scouse.
Mistress gazed at herself in the full length mirror before her. She nodded once. As she had expected, she was physically perfect. Not a single flaw marred her body. Not one wrinkle appeared in her taffeta ball-gown. The taffeta ball gown was her current whim, as were the totteringly high stiletto heels she wore on her feet. Not being subject to the usual taunts and blows of reality, she found them perfectly comfortable and easy to walk in.
Turning, she headed out of her cavernous dressing room and walked out into the rest of the castle. Two enormous eunuchs stiffened to attention as she walked between them. She ignored them, as she usually did, and headed towards the parlour, and breakfast.
The castle was one of those buildings that could only exist in cyberspace, as was Mistress herself. Distressingly similar to that fictional castle, Gormenghast, only the section that Mistress herself lived in was not actually falling down. The region of the mansion that was dedicated to Star Trek and all its incarnations, for example, had huge leaks in the roof, while the characters huddled under tarpaulins in an attempt to keep dry, with campfires to keep them at least a little warm. The single room dedicated to Smallville was in a similar condition, although it had come and fallen into an advanced state of disrepair much more quickly than some of the other rooms. The rooms inhabited by Buffy and her friends were barely hanging in there.
The main focus of her attention was the suite of rooms that she normally lived in. As she strode into the entrance hall and looked around, she noticed several people react to her entrance. Severus Snape looked briefly alarmed before he forced his face into a more careless expression and walked away into the library. Mistress's eyes narrowed at his departure. He was on somewhat shaky ground, although he didn't seem to realise it. Some of the decorations in his room were starting to look somewhat shabby. She was starting to get tired of his attitudes and moods, of his constant refusal to worship the ground she walked on. She was God. She was supposed to be worshipped. Or feared. She didn't mind which, as long as grovelling was involved.
Across the room, Arnold Rimmer shot off a snappy salute. It had only taken her a week of torture to cure him of his tendency to use the Double Rimmer salute and some of its more ridiculous variations instead of the conventional salute. "Miss Mistress, Ma'am," he said, "How may I serve you today?"
Mistress frowned, and turned to face him. Rimmer was a fixture in the halls, and served her perfectly as a butler. "Breakfast," she told him. "Smoked salmon omelette, orange juice, and a small coffee." She walked towards the parlour as he bowed to her. She had him well trained, now.
She parked herself in an upright chair with a small table beside it, and looked out the window into the mountains that stretched away in front of her. Numerous courtyards scattered through the castle allowed her to cultivate the gardens she loved, since the castle itself was perched on a remote and barely accessible mountain peak which allowed for very few visitors. She didn't encourage visitors. As a result, on the other side of the window she looked out of, there was an apparently bottomless abyss. If she had walked to the window and looked to her left, she would have been able to see the precarious rope bridge arcing over the abyss, between the castle and the badly potholed and barely passible track which lead down to civilisation.
There was something missing. Something that the castle wanted. It had recently sprouted a completely new suite of rooms nearby, furnished with beanbags and guitars and an oddly painted upright piano. However, the rooms remained unfilled, and Mistress knew that, as an avatar (and therefore practically a goddess), there was something that she was supposed to get. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite figured out what, yet.
There was a polite cough behind her, and Rimmer came around the corner to deposit the breakfast tray on the little table. "Smoked salmon omelette, freshly squeezed orange juice, and fresh brewed coffee, ma'am," he said.
"Thankyou," she replied absently, and took a sip of the juice. Naturally, it was perfect. "What's missing, Rimmer?" she asked.
The answer came not from Rimmer, but from his scruffy Scouse room-mate. Why they insisted on sharing a room when the mansion was full of empty rooms was beyond her, but she'd given up suggesting that they get separate rooms.
"Lennon and McCartney!" Lister told them. "Cat has stolen Lennon and McCartney!"
"Why you don't put a lock on that fish tank is beyond me," Mistress told him. "The Cat wouldn't be able to steal your blasted robot goldfish if...."
She trailed off. That was it. That was the perfect way to fill the gap the castle had so nicely created for her. The Beatles. A nice little "quartet" to inhabit the ballroom. The cute one, the quiet one, the funny one, and the sarcastic one. With one or all of them to play with, they should hang around for a lot longer than Giles had. All she had to do now, was catch them.
So thinking, she started eating her breakfast and trying to decide whereabouts in cyberspace she should get them from. Which fiction should she steal them from? It was rather a pity that... She stopped. But then again, those rooms that Roj Blake and his crew inhabited were in rather better shape than they used to be. A few accomplices would make the task a little easier for her. Which ones? Vila, definitely. Having Avon around would be overkill, though. Gan wouldn't. As long as he didn't try to kill anyone, he'd be useful. Hmmm, better take Lister with her as well. As a Scouser himself, he might be able to take them places that she couldn't.
Having decided on what to do, Mistress went to get changed and round up her accomplices. It wasn't long before they all appeared from various locations. Somehow, they'd heard what their mission was to be, and they were all dressed in what they imagined would make them all look inconspicuous. Oh, well, she though. I guess that means we go and grab them from Help! At least this bunch won't look any more ridiculous there than the other characters do.
She sighed, and they headed off to go to the movies.
They soon founds themselves in a gentle woodland clearing, studded with British wildflowers and lots of soft focus. There were birds singing in the trees, and, not far away, four young men were fooling around. Mistress gestured to her two attendant eunuchs, and they had soon captured the quartet. The eunuchs marched back toward her, each holding two of the youths - each in one outstretched and meaty hand.
Mistress looked them over carefully. Sure enough, these were the ones she wanted. "Well, that was easier than I had thought they'd be. Come on."
And they left again. Soon enough, they were back in the castle and the Beatles were safely locked away in the suite of rooms that the castle had prepared for them. "Well done, all of you," she told her henchmen happily. She looked them over. They had all come through without so much as a ... "Alright," she snapped, her good humour evaporating in an instant. "Where's Gan?"
"Um, I think he stopped to pick some flowers, ma'am," Lister volunteered.
"Flowers?"
Mistress's mood was nothing if not mercurial, and this information soon switched her back from angry to happy again. Gan rather liked flowers. He rarely got the chance to pick flowers. Mistress was a benevolent Avatar, and generally preferred her minions to be happy, if she could possibly manage it without too much inconvenience. Besides, she could always retrieve him later, if necessary.
"Very well. Thankyou, all."
She gestured to her two attendants, and they went to where the castle's newest inhabitants were ensconced. John and George were looking out of the window, which displayed another sheer drop into a bottomless canyon.
"Have a look at this!" George told the other two. Paul and Ringo went to the window and looked.
"Better not try climbing out the window then," Paul said sagely.
"You can forget the door, too," Mistress told them cheerfully. "It's well guarded."
The quartet whirled around. They looked the two eunuchs up and down. "We can take them," John sneered. "Can't we, lads."
"Yeah," George agreed, coming over to stand just behind John.
The others agreed, also.
Mistress sighed. It always came down to this when people first arrived. She gestured to one of the eunuchs, and handed him an iron bar. Obligingly, he twisted the thing into a shape resembling a pretzel, and handed it politely to John. John took it, and tried to untwist it. He was unable to shift it. He grabbed one end, and George grabbed the other. They both pulled, and were still unable to shift it. Paul and Ringo joined in, and with much shouting, they were still unable to bend the bar in any way, shape or form.
"I guess we'll be staying here, then," Ringo said, resigned. "At least here we don't have anybody trying to cut my hand off."
"You will be well protected here," Mistress assured them. From out in the corridor, however, there came shouts and yells and the sound of blaster fire.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" she snapped, and marched imperiously out into the corridor. Behind her she could hear George ask, "How does she march imperiously then?" Paul and John both attempted imitations and did so rather badly.
She shut the door firmly behind her, suspecting that this was going to make life in the castle rather interesting. Abruptly, Vila and Avon came barrelling past her with several figures in black jumpsuits and evil looking black helmets in hot pursuit. Mistress was forced to jump out of the way as the Federation soldiers showed no sign of stopping. Her eyes widened in fury, and her mouth set in a hard line. That did it. She summoned her eunuchs, and sent them to seek, locate, and forcibly remove all intruders.
Scowling blackly, she headed for her bedroom and its cavernous wardrobe. If she was going to be repelling intruders, then she was going to make sure she was properly dressed for the part.
Behind her, the four lads from Liverpool stared at the door that had been shut in front of them. It clanged, somewhat like a dungeon door. "We've got to get out of here," Paul said.
"Yeah," Ringo agreed. "We've got to do something about my ring, too."
John tried the door. It was unlocked. Not only unlocked, it was also unguarded. The four of them exchanged glances, and went out into the corridor. A horde of screaming fangirls appeared, and rushed towards them. Instinct took over, and the quartet ran for their lives.
In another part of the castle, Mistress sensed the latest intruders, and swore. She had an extensive vocabulary, and wasn't afraid to voice it when she felt the situation deserved it. She pulled on a revealing leather harness, and put a pair of leather trousers and stiletto boots on over the top. Donning a peaked hat reminiscent of Nazi Germany embossed with the bound and gagged figure of a muscular man in place of the normal figures and snatching up a nasty-looking whip, she strode down the corridor towards the disturbance. She had designed her castle so that she wouldn't have to put up with this sort of nonsense, and now she was going to do something about them.
She gestured imperiously at her eunuchs, and they fell into step behind her. In a matter of minutes, she reached her control room. It was incongruously high-tech, filled with banks of computers. It was manned by yet more eunuchs. "Activate the fire wall," she ordered one of them. He pressed a couple of buttons, and an enormous wall of flame appeared out of the bottomless canyon that surrounded the castle. "That should keep anybody else out," she said. "Locate everybody on the scanners."
It soon appeared that, with the exception of the Beatles and Blake and his crew, all her acquisitions had gathered in the foyer - apparently for protection. Not that they were in any real danger. She'd managed to keep out all of their opponents.
The Beatles were headed for one of the more derelict parts of the castle. It was also one of the more dangerous parts, since walls, floor, and ceiling all were contributing to the general atmosphere of moulder in the area. It was where the Star Trek crew called home these days, and all the once-pristine mock-spaceship walls were covered with green slime, dirt, and scorch marks. In some areas, the floor had given way completely, exposing the grid of cyberspace beneath. The inhabitants of the area had rigged up planks and ropes to get around these areas, and Mistress hoped that they would get across them alright.
"Take a squad down and distract those fangirls," Mistress told one of her nameless eunuchs. "I don't want the boys to get knocked into the grid. God knows what will happen to them down there." With a nod, the eunuch slipped out of the door.
Back in the control room, Mistress watched the monitors. It wouldn't be long before they vanished from the screens completely. The monitors were few and far between down there, and most of them didn't work. She was worried. She didn't really know if her eunuchs would show up in time or not, or even whether the Beatles were athletic enough to make it through the Star Trek zone of her castle. Added to that, she also had a nasty suspicion that somebody else had sent the fangirls and the Federation troops.
Speaking of which, she could see them on her monitor, chasing Blake and his friends around the place. She frowned. It looked suspiciously like they would run into either the fangirls or the Beatles sometime soon. That could be a problem. As she watched, a squad of her eunuchs pelted past, looking as though they were primitives in search of a tribe rather than an elite squad of soldiers, clad as they were in scanty loincloths and displaying large amounts of muscle. They soon caught up with the fangirls, scattering them in all directions.
The Beatles, however, had disappeared off the screen.
Eunuchs and fangirls mixed, and the girls unanimously decided to scream and cower in corners. Mistress sneered. It was, in her mind, a pathetic display. The only proper place for a man was naked and bound at a woman's feet. It was a gesture of generosity on Mistress's behalf that she allowed them to wander around the castle unfettered. She didn't mind. As long as they remembered to grovel and call her Ma'am, they were tolerated. Her friend Isis thought she was being rather too generous to them - but then, Isis preferred her men seen and not heard, and kept them in leather harness and chains.
Behind her, the door slid open, and just as quickly slid shut again. Mistress turned to see the Beatles standing there, looking around in bewilderment. The room they had walked into contrasted greatly with the castle they had been in. It was gleaming white, and looked far beyond even the Scientist's laboratory. Not that that was difficult. To Mistress's mind, The Scientist's lab was primitive, and not fit to be walked in. And that assistant of his was worse than useless. Although if he turned up, she wouldn't mind making him Master of the Hounds. Of course, he might be a little alarmed at what the Hounds looked like. Not to mention their diet.
"Hello, luv," Paul said, catching his breath. Apparently he hadn't been looking as closely at what she was wearing as the other three had, because their eyes had widened, and they had turned to the door again. The Eunuchs, however, had obeyed Mistress's long standing orders, and locked the door.
John, Ringo, and George, clearly recognising Mistress's natural .... erm ... authority, were scrabbling at the door and yelling, "Let us out! Let us out!"
Paul looked at them, bewildered, and then looked again at Mistress's outfit.
"You're not one of those ghastly lesbian dykes, are you?" he asked.
Silence fell.
Ringo started to whimper.
Mistress's eyes narrowed. "Oh, no," she said sweetly. "I like men." She bared her teeth in a manner that almost - but not quite - suggested a smile. "I like men a lot."
Paul frowned, slightly. Something wasn't right here.
"For dinner."
Her eunuchs lunged.
Sign up to rate and review this story