Adam awoke in a strange but comfortable bed. The sheets were of fine linen and the bedposts were large and ornate. He might have thought he was in a luxury hotel except the décor was distinctly feminine, more like a woman's bedroom than a hotel room.
A redhead in a French maid's outfit was also in the room. His first glimpse of her was of her bottom (barely concealed by white panties under her skirt) as she bent over to dust a low-lying countertop with a feather duster. He was puzzled as to why she had to bend at such an extreme angle—until he realized that her elbows had been cuffed together behind her back, severely hampering her reach.
He sat up, which startled the maid. She looked at him with surprise—an expression amplified by a large ball gag which kept her mouth in the shape of an O.
"Where am I?" he asked. He didn't expect an answer from the gagged woman, but there was no one else to ask.
Her response was to leave the room immediately and to close the door behind her. The maid's restraints had apparently been engineered to inconvenience her while preserving her utility as a maid.
She made a muffled call to someone he couldn't see.
Another voice answered. "He'll have to stay locked in until we can spare someone to fetch him."
So he was alone—and not going anywhere.
He remembered Eve and ached at the thought of what might be happening to her. Somehow he would find her and bring her home, he promised himself. She wouldn't be another Monica.
But he needed a plan.
Fighting off wooziness, he decided to explore the room. He slid his bare feet onto the plush carpet. He was surprised by how sore his joints were and realized that, while he was unconscious, he must have been confined in a very small space.
He remembered the box. He also noticed new scratches and bruises on his body, especially around his wrists and ankles—evidence of some rough handling while he was unconscious.
He rubbed his stiff neck and discovered a steel collar around it. Below his neck, he was naked and clean-shaven.
He stood up and was immediately out of breath—an aftereffect of the drug, he guessed.
He saw a pair of French doors covered with gauze curtains which allowed daylight into the room. This suggested a means of escape, but first he had to take care of something else.
He saw there was an adjoining bathroom and used it. Presumably his keepers knew that he would have need of one.
Next he investigated the French doors. To his surprise, they were not locked, but when he opened them, they allowed bright light and a harsh wind into the room.
Despite the cold and his nakedness, he ventured outside to try to figure out where he was.
He found himself on a balcony surrounded by steep, rugged mountains. The altitude contributed to his shortness of breath, he realized.
Despite his fear of heights, he forced himself toward the balcony's railing so he could peek over it. He glimpsed the deepest vertical drop he had ever seen. The balcony hung over the edge of a sheer precipice with a river at least a thousand feet below.
The vertigo was immediate. He staggered back from the rail.
He was in a castle. The balcony was a new addition to a very old structure. Toward his left, a stone tower rose a hundred feet above him.
He stepped back inside and closed the door. Someone new was staring at him.
"You were thinking of escaping, weren't you?" said the perky buxom blonde in the vinyl catsuit. "You wouldn't get far."
"Where am I?" he asked the stranger.
"This is the Countess's bedroom. It's where most of your duties are to be performed."
"Are you the Countess?"
"Yes," she replied. "Now kneel before me."
"If you're the Countess, why do you wear a collar?"
"Darn, you got me. I was hoping you'd be dumb enough to believe me."
Adam picked up a pillow and held it in front of him for modesty.
"You like being teased, don't you?" she asked. "Or is that just a morning missile?"
"When I asked where I am, I meant what country am I in?"
"That is a forbidden question."
"If you answer it, I won't tell anybody."
"No, but
I
would. There's no penalty for answering a forbidden question—just for asking it. The rules we have to follow are very complicated."
Adam noticed that she was holding a couple of leather restraints in her arms, but he wasn't about to ask what they were for.
"In answer to your question," she continued, "I have no idea where we are. No slave in the castle is allowed to know that—or to
ask
that, or to ask
why
they can't ask that."
"That's inconvenient."
"I know this much. We're not within walking distance of anyplace friendly or civilized. I know that even if you got out of the castle and somehow made your way down that cliff and through the mountains—without any food, gear or clothes—and somehow found someone in the local village to tell your story to, you still wouldn't be safe."
"Why not?"
"Do you believe in werewolves?"
"No."
"The locals do. They have regular patrols hunting for them. A strange naked man wandering in the forest would be shot dead on sight."
"That's good to know."
"I'm Zana, by the way."
"I'm Adam."
"The Mediary sent me to bring you to her."
"Who?"
"The Mediary acts for the Countess in her absence. All of us slaves report to her. You'll need these." She dropped the restraint devices onto the bed in a dramatic fashion.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"You used the Countess's bathroom without permission. You wandered outside without an escort. And you just asked a forbidden question. All are punishable with forced bondage."
"I don't know all your rules. I just got here."
"Yeah, it sucks to be you. As I mentioned, the castle rules are thrillingly complicated—designed to put people like you at a disadvantage right away. In fact, it might be a good idea to just stop talking until you know what's what." She gestured toward the restraints lying on the bed. "My orders are very specific. The Mediary will be
very
angry if I bring you to her without these restraints."
Adam weighed his options. He could easily overpower Zana, or force his way past her, but he had no idea what lay beyond the door.
"Are you still thinking of escaping?" Zana asked. "You're alone and naked in an unknown land. Maybe you're thinking you can use me as a hostage? I assure you, my life means nothing to them. No one wearing a collar is valued here."
"So if I refuse . . ."
"Someone will
make
you. Or, depending on her mood, just kill you."
Reluctantly Adam put down the pillow and picked up a strap from the bed.
"That goes around the knees," said Zana with too much helpfulness.
Adam secured the device around his knees, which made any thought of escape far less plausible. Zana gave him the other item she had been holding.
"What is this?" he asked about the leather sleeve in his hands.
"It's an armbinder. You've never worn one?"
"No," he said. "I'll need help putting it on."
"Of course," Zana said. She was very accommodating. The garment bound both his arms behind his back and made his arms and hands unusable. Zana patiently and methodically tightened each buckle that held it together. Wearing it made him feel confined in an entirely new way.
Adam thought she had finished, but then she produced an assortment of small padlocks.
"Is that really necessary?" he asked.
"Probably not, but how would you stop me now?"
She applied the locks. With the last one in place, she stepped around him to admire how well the restraints fit. As a flourish, she cradled his cock in her hands because she could.
"We don't usually get male slaves in our castle," she told him, although it seemed she was talking to his cock. "I hope you last longer than the others."
She beckoned him to follow her out of the room.
They walked through a long corridor and down a set of ornate stairs (which he had to tread slowly due to the restraint on his knees). In a palatial foyer, the Mediary found them.
She was an attractive middle-aged woman in glasses and business attire, and she entered with a quartet of French maids trailing after her. Adam recognized the maids from the hotel "showroom" of the night before. Apparently they were all rented slaves like himself, but they hadn't been drugged as he had been, so they had been put right to work after their arrival.
The Mediary had been giving the maids instructions concerning the preparations for some kind of event. Now she turned her attention to Zana and Adam.
"Zana," she asked with disdain, "explain yourself."
"It was his idea," blurted Zana.
Adam was dumbfounded as the Mediary stared at both of them accusingly.
"I asked you to do two things," the Mediary continued. "To bring to me the new slave—and to bring the restraints."
"Here they are," said Zana.
"Why," asked the Mediary, "is the new slave wearing the restraints which I had intended for
you?"
"I didn't tell him to put them on," said Zana. "I just said you'd be angry if he came without them."
