At the center of Academy Island, there was a mountain. From its top, if it was a clear day, you could see both the north campus (where the domination school sat next to the harbor) and the south campus (where the slave compound was fortified by barbed wire). You could probably even see the Citadel on the west coast where the island's permanent residents lived behind ancient walls and played games too wicked for any visitor to see.
On this particular morning, however, as the sun rose, causing the mountain to cast its long shadow to the west, the lower parts of the island were shrouded in fog, so when Adam looked down from the road that hugged the mountainside, all he could see were clouds.
Many things were going through his mind at that moment, but two thoughts were the most immediate. One was how beautiful the island looked from a distance, and the other was how much his feet hurt.
The sulky he was forced to pull to the mountaintop seemed to be getting heavier, but he knew that, in fact, he was getting weaker. Pulling a sulky, he had believed, was a task reserved only for former mistresses, but in this case, it seemed he was an exception.
He was naked except for his collar, his handcuffs, and his sandals, and he suspected that Mistress Helga (the sulky's driver and only occupant) had allowed him sandals only so that she could guarantee his obedience by threatening to take them away. He understood this without having to be told, so he spoke not one word of complaint.
He did, however, ask where they were going. He had been told, "The Grand Hall," a name which meant nothing to him. She might as well have said
up
.
". . . and that's how your slut of a girlfriend planned to destroy me," said Helga, continuing the story she had begun the night before. "Now I ask you—knowing me as well as you do—how can I possibly forgive that?"
Adam said nothing. He had heard this story before from Highmother, but the realization that he personally knew two of the key players in Helga's strange tale gave it an eerie new context.
Helga removed the sunglasses that matched her latex suit. In the shadow of the mountain, she no longer needed them to appreciate the muscles in his flexing ass as he labored up the mountain.
"You're being very quiet this morning," she observed. "If I had wanted you silent, I would have gagged you. Monica must have left quite an impression on you last night during her exertions. It might entertain me to hear you describe how she tormented you."
I'll speak on my own terms, bitch,
he thought.
"Be that way then. I asked Monica to meet us later at the Grand Hall. I'll get all the yummy details from her."
They turned a corner and saw a motorcycle parked on an asphalt lot nestled in a gap between two summits. A path led from the lot to an opening in the rock guarded by a fierce-looking woman wearing the familiar armor of the Academy's honor guard.
Helga ordered Adam to pull the sulky through the opening and into the tunnel beyond. The guard snapped to attention upon seeing Mistress Helga and allowed them to pass.
Adam continued down the tunnel until it became so dark, he could no longer be certain of his footing. Helga finally ordered him to stop, stepped out of the sulky, and found an electrical switch on the tunnel wall.
A vast chamber appeared in front of them illuminated in multi-colored lights. The floor of the cavern had been leveled and polished, but the rest of the space was a blend of natural cave formations and majestic manmade columns. Interspersed with the columns were statues of powerful women in Grecian attire standing upon pedestals. Adam guessed that these might have represented the original founders of the Academy.
On the far end of the chamber, curved stairs led upward toward a dais which dominated the room. The back of the dais joined with the natural cave wall, but this wall had been chiseled flat, and bas-relief sculptures depicting the history of the Academy were carved into its surface. In the center of the artwork was an ancient wooden door.
In front of the door was a stone table (like an altar) rigged with steel shackles that he hoped were not intended for him. Above the table, a single chain hung from the ceiling.
After unhooking Adam from the sulky, Helga led him by his leash toward the stairs.
"The Grand Hall," proclaimed Helga.
"It looks almost like a church," said Adam.
"It
was
a kind of church once. The Sisterhood was sentimental in their pious way, but we've improved upon things since we forced them out. Now the hall serves as a throne room, a symbol of our power, and a venue for our official state functions." She led him up the stairs toward the stone table.
"How come I've never heard of this place?"
"Because slaves aren't invited to state functions."
"How come I'm here now?"
"Because you're
exceptional!
And before I pass my righteous judgment upon you, I want to show you the Secret of Our Power." She led him past the table toward the wooden door. "It isn't all flowers, you know."
She swung the door open to reveal another tunnel. This one appeared to be an unaltered wild cave except for the crude electric lights strung along its length. Unable to use his own hands for balance, Adam had to take care not to trip over the uneven floor.
Eventually, one of the tunnel walls disappeared, and Adam realized with a start that the path they stood upon was on the edge of a great chasm, the bottom of which was lost in darkness. A steel footbridge spanned the chasm toward the other side which was just as dark as the abyss below.
With no guard rail, and with his arms cuffed behind him, he couldn't forget that his death was only a single misstep away. He was nearly paralyzed with fear.
"I know you're afraid of heights, so I wouldn't look down," said Helga. "Just look across."
She threw another wall switch, and the area across the chasm was flooded in light. A massive chamber appeared which was filled with rows upon rows of filing cabinets stacked on shelves higher than any human could reach.
The filing cabinets extended farther into the mountain's interior than his eye could see. There were thousands of drawers and potentially hundreds of thousands of files. A complex set of sliding ladders and catwalks had been designed to provide access to any file in the chamber.
"Information," said Helga, "is power. Here is where we keep the details of the sexual habits, fetishes, and fantasies of everyone ever to use our services for the last two hundred years. Among them are the secrets of some of today's most powerful leaders and policy makers."
She became visibly aroused. She ran a hand through her long red hair while her other hand slid across her torso.
The implications of these files slowly settled into Adam's brain. "With all these secrets," he said at last, "you could control the world."
Helga's smile betrayed a different kind of perversion.
"What makes you think we don't?"
Much that had seemed strange about the world now made sense to Adam.
"Imagine how many leaders could be compromised if these files became public," she continued. "The old regime promised to keep them safe, and there's no place safer than in the heart of this dormant volcano. Of course, we don't make such promises anymore. These old files are being digitized to make them more fluid in the event we need them."
The thought made her quiver. She grabbed his cock and pulled him closer. Even now, her touch made him respond in the way that she desired.
"Our clients know full well we have these secrets," she whispered, "and yet the demand for our services continues to grow. Isn't that strange?"
It wasn't. Not to Adam.
"Why are you telling me this?" he gasped.
"Because you're about to become harmless." She released her grip and swatted his ass. "Let's go back to the Grand Hall. This is your big moment."
When they returned to the main cavern, Mistress Monica was trudging up the circular stairs toward the top of the dais, dragging an upright dolly laden with a heavy box.
The label on the box said PONY.
Each time the wheels of the dolly bumped over a step, the captive in the box let out a muffled sound of distress. The passenger had to have been in a tight fetal position to fit inside the box, and based on the sounds coming from within, her mouth had been tightly packed and gagged.
Monica was amused by the sounds.
"Good, you're here," said Helga. "I was afraid I'd have to wait."
"She didn't want to get in the box for some reason," said Monica, "but I know ways to take the fight out of her." Upon clearing the topmost stair, Monica abruptly tipped the dolly onto the dais, dumping the box roughly onto its side, prompting its occupant to scream in ineffectual protest.
"Oopsie," said Monica.
Adam's heart pounded with the need to rescue his mistress, but his hands were still bound, and Monica still carried her sword.
Monica lifted the box back to its upright position. "Shut up, whiner!" she snapped, kicking the box.
"Is this why you brought me here?" asked Adam. "To make me witness Eve's torment?"
"Not at all," explained Helga. "That's something Mistress Kathy would do, but I've have a better idea." She gave Adam an unexpected hug. Looking in his eyes, she whispered, "The Pony's here to witness
your
torment."
In dramatic fashion, Helga leapt onto the stone table. "I hope you appreciate what I'm doing to spruce up this place. Under the old regime, the Grand Hall was so dour—a mere place of worship. I've been redecorating, replacing all the icons of spirituality with icons of power, because that's what this place is to be. A monument to our unquestioned and unlimited authority!"
Helga grabbed the chain which dangled from the ceiling and swung from it in sheer delight. Laughing, she flew over their heads, soaring through the space of the Grand Hall like a mad monkey on a vine.
"Of course, it's not finished yet!" she squealed. "There's one detail missing! One thing which will make the aesthetics of the Grand Hall complete!"
She swung back to her perch on the stone table and glared at Adam.
"A chandelier."
She winked at Monica.
Monica reached under the stone table and rolled out a small cart with a cloth draped over it.
"Tell me, Adam," asked Helga. "Have you ever seen a bone saw up close?"
Monica pulled the cloth away, revealing a macabre arsenal of surgical tools. The most prominent was a battery powered device with a serrated blade which Monica presented as Vanna White would present a vowel.
"Isn't this exciting?" continued Helga, as she jumped down from the table. "You're about to become decorative! Now we're going to let the poor Pony out of her box—just as soon as you hop onto the table and we chain your arms and legs down. This will go so much easier once you're properly immobile."
Monica perversely patted the surface of the stone table, inviting Adam to comply.
He stepped back.
"Oh, dear, he's going to be difficult, isn't he?" Helga strolled to where the box marked PONY was perched on the edge of the dais. She put one booted foot on top of the box, ready to give it a nudge down the stairs. "How unfortunate for the Pony that he's not cooperating! I'm afraid this will hurt!"
The woman in the box screamed in horror, her cries muted by stuffing.
Adam complied with Helga's demand, climbing onto the stone table voluntarily.
Monica picked up the first shackle to secure his ankles.
There was a sudden unexpected sound—a low concussive rumble that originated far away from the mountain. Helga looked at Monica quizzically.
"What was that?" asked Helga.
"How should I know?" answered Monica.
They stared at each other. This was not part of Helga's plan.
