Continue.

I slide my hands under the wench's skirt to grope and fondle her full round buttocks. She squeals and wriggles against the intrusion, but her hands are too busy squeezing my pert, supple, panty-clad, well-toned behind to fight me off. Plus we're both having our minds controlled, of course. We make out some more as I pull her dress up, off over her head, leaving her standing in the middle of the tavern in just her plain cotton panties and a rough-spun white bodice. I rip the bodice away to expose a beautiful pair of heavy, bouncing, cream-pale breasts with big round nipples, perfect for sucking and pinching. Her face goes red and she squirms in shame and pain as I take hold of her nipples, one between each of my nimble, dextrous fingers, and give them each a fierce twist.

"Owww!"

Bronnis laughs. "This is even more fun than I thought! Do you like having your nipples pinched, wench?"

"Ow! Yes! I'm a slut for it!"

"Good, good. Now, Liane, it's your turn."

"Yes, sir."

My cotton bra joins my breeches and the wench's dress and bodice in the fire. We stand before Bronnis with our hands behind our heads, clad in nothing but our cotton panties, fuming and scowling as we're **** to indulge every single one of this pervert's twisted, degrading whims. My tits are smaller than the bar-wench's, but nothing to be ashamed of. As Bronnis strokes and tweaks my stiff strawberry nipples, smiling so wide he's almost drooling, all I can think about is how much I hate him and how embarrassed I am to be performing for his amusement. Hate him. Hate hate hate. He is quite handsome, though.

"How are you girls feeling now?"

We speak in unison. "We love it when you toy with our tits, Master Bronnis. It makes us wet. We love being your stupid slutty slaves."

"Great!" He picks something up from the table. He grins as he turns, and I see it's my pitcher of blueberry syrup. A large pitcher, still mostly full.

"No!"

"What's that?"

"I mean, yes, please, Master Bronnis."

He begins to pour the syrup out over my head. It mats my hair, drips from the tip of my nose, trickles down the back of my neck and runs over my hips. He gives me more across my upper body, my shoulders, my back, my breasts and my belly. It pools in my belly-button, clings to my nipples, slides down under the hem of my panties and in between my nubile buttocks. It's cold and sticky and uncomfortable and humiliating. I squirm as I stand there in just my panties, exposed and blushing, not sure how such a simple quest could possibly have headed south so fast. How could I have known the gem was so important? Still, I feel like an idiot. A syrup-covered idiot.

The wench gets the same treatment, though she's bigger than me so it takes more syrup. Bronnis sizes us both up, bare-breasted and sticky and miserable, and laughs at the intensity of our subservient humiliation. "What do we say?"

"Thank you, Master Bronnis. We're your sweet stupid syrup sluts."

"All right, don't rub it in. I'd stay to fuck you, but I have places to be and kingdoms to conquer. Also, I'd get sticky. Should have thought of that earlier. But don't worry, I'm not leaving you girls without something to do. You're both bar-wenches now. You're going to stay here the rest of the day, serving anyone who comes in, giving them anything they want and doing anything they tell you to do. Dressed exactly as you are now. Well, almost exactly."

The bar-wench and I exchange frightened glances as we hook our thumbs into our panties and lower them down around our knees. Her pussy-hair is blonde and wild and unkempt, mine gingery orange and neatly trimmed. We put our hands back on our heads and trot towards the front door, our legs constrained by the position of our underwear. Bronnis has us stand facing it so we'll be the first thing any customer sees when they come in.

"Wait just like that, ladies," he says. "Don't worry. Shouldn't be too long before someone comes along. Be seeing you now."

"Goodbye, Master Bronnis."

In fact it's almost twenty minutes before the first customers of the day, a clan of lesbian barbarians who've just been let out of jail this morning, show up for breakfast. They're quickly joined by a crew of rowdy sailors who haven't seen a woman in months, and soon enough the party's getting started.