Mistress Kathys Slave Catalog Ch 03

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."

Zana's a manipulative fucking bitch,

Adam realized.

The Mediary's eyes narrowed. "Is she telling the truth?" she asked Adam.

"She tricked me," said Adam.

"How exactly?"

"She said I broke your rules."

"Indoctrinated slaves are responsible for knowing all the rules of the castle," said the Mediary, "but you have not yet been indoctrinated. I suppose Zana chose not to tell you that."

The Mediary now turned toward Zana. "Where is his uniform?"

"He didn't put it on," she answered. "I laid it out for him on the dressing table, but he didn't even look at it. And how could I make him wear it after he fastened his knees together?"

"I see," said the Mediary, turning to Adam. "Zana has been negligent in her duties, so I was going to begin your training by having you discipline her with these restraints. And there is something else she neglected to tell you. She bound you with locks for which she knows I don't have keys. Only the Countess carries those keys, so I am unable to undo what she's done."

The rented maids giggled at his expense. Zana had not only bound him, but made him a fool.

"What are you saying?" he asked the Mediary. "I'm just fucked?"

"As you say," said the Mediary, "you are fucked. I can't even give you proper clothes until the Countess arrives this evening to free you."

The Mediary turned an approving eye on Zana. "Well played," said the Mediary. "The Countess will undoubtedly reward you for your cleverness."

"Thank you, Mediary," replied Zana.

"What just happened?" Adam wanted to know.

"You're new here," the Mediary reminded him. "You could learn much from Zana. She knows that I don't have enough help in the kitchens, so now that

you're

useless, her punishment will have to be deferred to a later time. In fact, I'll have to put her in charge of your training since I can no longer see to it myself as I had planned."

This is worse than the Academy,

thought Adam.

Even slaves here can't be trusted.

The Mediary turned to Zana. "You'll have to train him directly from the slave manual and hope he's a good listener. Do your best to get him ready for tonight."

"What's tonight?" asked Adam.

"The initiation ceremony, of course," said the Mediary, "for you and the other slaves leased from the Academy. Did Zana tell you nothing? You are to be welcomed by the Royal Dominance Assembly. They'll test you and assign your rank. Until then, try not to do anything more foolish than you've already done."

The Mediary turned and left—with the rented maids stealing wicked glances at him as they departed, leaving Adam under Zana's care.

"This way, newbie," said Zana, encouraging him forward with a not-so-gentle push. "I'll give you a quick tour."

"Why should I do anything you ask?"

"Because you're tied up and naked and you have no choice." She slipped her hand down to his ass. "I warned you castle rules were complicated, and you still have a lot to learn."

Zana led Adam down another long corridor.

"She said I'm going to be assigned a rank?" Adam asked as he shuffled.

"It's procedure," she said. "Your worthiness will be judged and you'll be told what your status in the hierarchy will be. Slaves who are judged poorly have to start at the very bottom as a pet, a toy, or a deviant. I, on the other hand, have been recently promoted." She seemed proud of her achievement. "I'm a vassal now. Of course, everyone here hopes to last long enough to become the Mediary."

"Hold on, the Mediary is a slave, too?"

"Yes, she's a prisoner as much as the rest of us. But she's the slave with the most power."

The inmates run the asylum—when the Countess is away.

Zana was surprised by Adam's next question. "How do I get promoted?"

"You think you'll last that long, do you?" Zana giggled. "Slaves are promoted based on qualities the Countess values."

"And they are . . .?"

"Obedience, loyalty,

et cetera, et cetera,"

she sighed. "But mostly cruelty. It's the only quality that's ever rewarded here. She calls it 'cleverness,' but it's just another word for fucking with each other at every opportunity."

"Like you did to me."

"Yes, and I'll do it again. You're a short-timer, so you're an easy mark for those who want to score points with the Countess."

Zana led him into a room that had chains and pulleys set into the ceiling. In the center there was a small table next to a mattress, but Adam's attention was drawn toward the naked woman chained to the wall.

"Hey, Chrissy," said Zana as they entered the room. "No hard feelings I hope."

The chained woman said nothing, but continued to stare at the floor.

"Chrissy here is a bootlicker, so she doesn't get to wear clothes or walk around unattended. Right, Chrissy?"

"Fuck you, you bitch," said Chrissy.

Zana ignored the comment and continued about her business. She connected the ring at the end of Adam's armbinder to a low-hanging chain. "This is one of our discipline rooms," she said.

"What have I done now? What am I being punished for?"

"It's not punishment. It's training." She grasped a metal wheel on the wall and turned it. "I'm showing you what a discipline room does." The wheel turned, and the chain retracted toward the ceiling until Adam's arms were lifted at an uncomfortably high angle behind him.

Then she pushed the table in front of him. Sitting on the table was a three-ringed binder which Zana had opened to the first page. The heading said

CASTLE SLAVE MANUAL—A GUIDE FOR THE INDOCTRINATED SLAVE

.

"You're going to read out loud to me," she explained. "You're going to try to read the entire thing before tonight's event. You won't succeed because it's 400 pages, but you'll do the best you can, and you'll do it in your clearest speaking voice. If you start to mumble, I'll make you start again."

Zana flipped the pages in front of him dramatically. The first fifty or so pages looked like photocopies of a document prepared long, long ago. After that was a hodgepodge of amendments and appendices, some of which were neatly typed, some of which were handwritten on spiral notebook paper, and some of which were scrawled in crayon so illegibly that Adam could only assume the crayon had been held in the writer's mouth. The document was badly stained from frequent exposure to various fluids.

"It's all in here," explained Zana. "The castle slave manual is a work in progress. Has been for generations."

"This manual's a mess," said Adam. "Do

you

know all this?"

"Nobody knows

all

of it," she said. "The trick is to know more than those around you. If you don't—well, it sucks to be you."

She opened the manual on the table before him. "As you read, I may do things to distract you." To demonstrate, she slapped him painfully on the ass. "No matter what I do, you will not stop reading or lose your place. If you do, I may make you read some portions twice. Or I may tighten your chain. These tactics will motivate you to be a better student. Do you understand?"

Adam reluctantly nodded his assent.

As Zana continued his spanking, he read aloud the opening section which concerned initiations:

The Initiation Ceremony

Following the slave's indoctrination (a period which may last several weeks or only a single day, depending on the discretion of the slave's mistress), the new slave will be initiated in a special ceremony overseen by the Royal Dominance Assembly (RDA).

The RDA is an elite group of individuals from the royal families of friendly nations and their honored guests who own and enjoy slaves. For the duration of the slave's servitude within the castle, he/she exists for the amusement of the RDA.

The purpose of the initiation ceremony is threefold: 1) to welcome the new slave, 2) to judge the new slave, and 3) to assign rank to the new slave.

The welcome is an informal gathering during which the slave may feel at ease around his/her betters (for the first and only time) before the formalities of the judging begin. During the welcoming, the slave will greet each RDA guest, serve her refreshments, and do whatever it takes to make her feel at home. The guests will want to converse with the new slave, to get a sense of the slave's personality, and to learn the slave's innermost feelings about his/her impending service.

It is possible that during the welcoming, a guest may offer the slave a small gift—not because the slave deserves it, but because it amuses the guest to give it. Any such gift must be accepted graciously and sincerely. When offered such a gift, the traditional reply is, "I am beneath you and unworthy of such generosity. I shall accept only if it pleases you." After accepting such a gift, the slave should immediately say, "I will cherish this gift more than I can say, and I am dumbfounded by your inexplicable kindness." To say anything else would be unseemly, and would invite criticism from the RDA.

The second part of the ceremony is the judging. The slave will be questioned on the rules and customs of castle servitude (including the contents of this manual).

Zana stopped spanking him, and moved on to a different form of distraction. She unzipped her catsuit and slowly fondled her bare breasts mere inches from Adam's face. Occasionally a hand would slip inside her vinyl suit to touch other parts of her body.

Naked Chrissy watched attentively and seemed to yearn for this kind of attention. Slowly she rubbed her own thighs against each other, the only pleasure she could give herself.

Adam could only imagine what Chrissy's life must have been like, or why she would yearn for the kind of attention Adam was getting.

I mustn't end up like her,

he thought and felt ashamed for thinking so selfishly.

He kept reading:

The ceremony concludes with the assignment of rank. From this point onward, the slave may be held accountable for any infraction of castle rules, no matter how trivial, at the discretion of his/her superiors.

The hierarchy of slave rank, from highest to lowest, is:

The Mediary

Functionaries

Vassals

Minions

Sycophants

Bootlickers

Pets, playthings, deviants

1

At this point, Adam stopped. "After the word

deviants

, there's a number. What does it mean?"

"It's an end note, stupid," said Zana. Her catsuit now lay on the floor. She massaged herself, passing a whip slowly between her legs.