Mistress Kathy's Slave Catalog Ch. 06

"Are you wondering what it will be like to be mine?" asked the Countess, her voice dripping with insincere sweetness. "You should. I'm afraid my loving attention will almost certainly leave scars." She laughed with such cruelty that even the Duchess felt uneasy.

"Don't ruin him," said Lady Emily. "Remember, like all members of the Royal Dominance Assembly, you have an obligation to share your slaves with other members."

"You may have him when I am done with him," said the Countess, "and that may take days."

If any of the other slaves felt slighted by the lustful attention the women of the Assembly focused upon Adam, the feeling passed when they saw the depth of the sadism they showed for whom they desired. In recent years, the Assembly's lack of empathy had ensured that man-slaves were always in short supply.

Despite the danger he faced, Adam thought mostly of Eve and how he had failed her. He should be rescuing her, but instead, he was thousands of miles away, hanging helplessly—hogtied and naked—above a dinner table while mistresses and slaves alike took turns humiliating him.

"Lady Emily raises an interesting point," said Lady Tara. "We all know your history when it comes to your man-slaves. And we know it's unlikely that he'll be able to service anyone after you've had your way with him."

"Pish posh!" snapped the Countess. "They are my slaves. It is my right to have the first pick!"

"Actually, that's not necessarily so," said the Duchess in her capacity as chairwoman. "At least, that right is not guaranteed. Our ancestors created the Royal Dominance Assembly so that we, the privileged, may pool our resources to have a greater variety of specimens. But your history of abusing man-slaves presents an unprecedented problem. It's clear which acquisition is the most desirable, yet it will be impossible for you to share something which you clearly intend to break."

"Quite right," said the Baroness. "We all want him. It has been ages since any of us has enjoyed a deviant of such quality."

"Doesn't the chair of the Assembly have the ultimate authority to decide?" asked Lady Emily.

"She must not!" said the Countess. "The chair will take him for herself!"

"Agreed," said Tara. "We should each have an equal chance to have him."

"I protest!" said the Countess. "He is mine! I claim the right!"

By now, all of the guests were out of their chairs arguing.

"Ladies, ladies, please," said the Duchess, urging calm. "Let us be civilized about this. It's clear what has to happen. Lady Emily is correct. To avoid any more argument, let us agree we should each have a chance. We shall draw cards. Countess, do you have a deck?"

"Cards are banned in the castle," said the Countess testily. "They encourage indolence."

"I have a better idea," said Lady Emily, adjusting her short tube dress in an effort to be more authoritative. She beckoned the other women of the Assembly to join her for a discussion in the back of the room.

After some whispering, they reached a conclusion. "Very well," said the Duchess. "Since we don't have playing cards, the choice will be made by the deviant himself."

Adam wondered what new joke they were playing on him. It was not likely they were going to allow him to choose which of the women he wanted as a tormentor.

"Listen carefully," said the Duchess. She grasped Adam's head and held it against her chest as if calming an infant. "Listen carefully, because your fate will be determined by how well you answer this question."

Somehow, despite the horror of his situation, Adam experienced a moment of calm when he looked at Emily and realized he knew what the question was going to be.

"Deviant," asked the Duchess, "what is your favorite color?"

Each woman of the Assembly eyed him with unhealthy appetites, except Emily, who seemed to be smiling at something no one else could see.

Of all the Assembly members, Emily was the only one who hadn't gone out of her way to be cruel to Adam. Much of her teasing had seemed intended to placate Lady Tara rather than to inflict discomfort. Indeed, it was Emily's comment which had sparked the current argument and spared him, for a time, from the whims of the Countess.

And it was Emily who had earlier whispered to him what his answer to this question should be.

I was right, Adam realized. She's not as innocent as she wants us to believe.

"Blue," said Adam.

The other four women of the Assembly glared at Lady Emily with expressions of rage and suspicion. Lady Emily, for her part, did a credible job of acting surprised.

As the others glared, Emily placed her hands behind her legs and glided them upward under the hem of her dress. When she brought her hands back down, her thumbs were towing her designer lace panties down the length of her smooth legs. She stepped out of them and presented them as if they were the winning lottery ticket.

The panties were blue.

"The choice has been made," said the Duchess. "The deviant will spend the first night with Lady Emily."

"She cheated," muttered the Countess. "Somehow she arranged this deception! She knew we were wearing the lingerie samples she'd sent us!"

"The choice," the Duchess reiterated, "has been made. We must now proceed with the other initiates."

"If it's all right with you," said Lady Emily, "I'd like to retire with the man-slave right away. As you can see, he's already been primed, and I want him alone before he goes off."

"Fine," seethed the Countess, admitting defeat. "Get him out of my sight. I'll have the bootlickers carry the deviant to your room."

"If it's all the same to you," said Lady Emily, "I'd like to use the Tower tonight. Lady Tara's told me all about it."

The Countess glared again, this time at Lady Tara. "You told her about the Tower, did you?"

"Emily," Tara whispered with veiled hostility. "The Countess is our host. Do not embarrass me so."

The Countess turned her rage at Lady Tara. "You brought that little tart here! I shall not forget that." She turned to Lady Emily. "Bring him to the Tower then! Play with all my toys tonight. But do not expect further hospitality in the morning!"

The Countess gave a key to the Mediary, who gave it to Lady Emily. The perky blonde signaled the bootlickers to deliver Adam to the Tower before she exited, leaving her winning panties behind on the dinner table.

Four bootlickers carefully lowered the pipe from which Adam hung. At no time did anyone suggest that he should be untied or that any of his bonds should be loosened. Instead they hoisted the pipe over their shoulders and marched up the stairs with him bobbing and swaying in a helpless suspended hogtie.

They marched up two flights of stairs and through a corridor before coming to a curved stairway leading upward. The stairs were narrow, giving the bootlickers some difficulty with their cargo.

Part of the way up, there was a door set into the curved wall. Lady Emily sat on the stairs with her ominously heavy duffel bag by her side.

"What's at the top of the stairs?" Emily asked.

"Only the roof," Chrissy replied, "and it's locked. You and the deviant will have the Tower to yourselves."

"Good," said Emily, smiling much too innocently. "I don't want to be disturbed—no matter how much he screams."

Adam's doubts about trusting her were now multiplied.

"We are accustomed to screams from the Tower, my lady," answered Chrissy. "You will not be disturbed."

Adam was carried into a large circular room that was far taller than it was wide. A few candles had been lit for their benefit, but the candlelight could not reach the top of the room. The ambiguously high ceiling was masked in darkness. Pipes emerged from walls at odd angles which could not have any use for plumbing but which were ideally positioned to be anchoring points for pulleys and ropes. A sex swing hung in the center of the room from a chain that descended from the darkness.

Following Emily's instructions, they set Adam on a small table on the left side of the room and detached him from the pole, but they left him hogtied within his torso harness. The bootlickers left carrying the empty pole, and Emily locked the door behind them so she could focus her attention entirely on Adam.

As she turned his way, she looked briefly inside the bag she carried. What she saw made her grin. She looked back to him, her innocence melting away into a perverse image of desire.

"I don't scream easily," Adam told her.

She smiled as if he'd said something funny. "I won't hold you to that, my brave little man."

She walked around him, appraising him. She crossed the room to an open window through which the cold night air flowed freely. She allowed her duffel bag to drop to the floor with a heavy clank next to the window.

She smiled at him again. "Get up," she commanded. "I want you to kneel, but don't fall off the table."

He tried, but with his restraints, he needed help.

She obliged, helping him to a kneeling position on the tabletop. Then she lit more candles around the room while humming sweetly to herself.

Adam decided to try a different tactic—empathy instead of bravado.

"You made them angry," he said reasonably.

"They don't know what I have planned for you," she purred in reply. "If they did . . ."

She turned away, leaving the thought unfinished.

The room had no furniture other than the small table that supported him and a large leather chair intended for the comfort of a mistress. There were hanging bondage implements and spooled chains on ratcheted wheels attached to the wall. He surmised that one of the ratchets was for adjusting the height of the sex swing hanging in the room's center.

Emily paused in her humming to look up toward the ceiling, and Adam remembered that she had never seen the room before—although she had certainly heard about it.

Something she saw satisfied her. She continued to hum.

She walked to the open window and looked out. As she leaned over the sill, she seemed completely unconcerned (or perhaps she had forgotten) that she was no longer wearing panties. Adam unavoidably saw what her short dress failed to conceal.

She whistled as she looked out.

"Long way down," she said. "Good thing I'm not afraid of heights." She grinned too knowingly.

She continued to hum.

She reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a cell phone. She pointed the camera lens at him and said, "Smile." She took his picture, and continued to hum as she pushed more buttons on her phone.

After putting the phone back into her bag, she found a selection of chains hanging on the wall. She selected one of the longer ones that had a removable link on the end. She brought it and an S-hook over to Adam.

She attached one end of the chain to a ring on the upper back of Adam's harness. She threw the other end across an overhead pipe, then carried the end to a metal ring imbedded in the wall, making it as tight as she could before attaching it to the wall with the S-hook.

She walked over to Adam and kicked the table out from under him.

Still secured in a tight hogtie, he found himself dangling at a nearly vertical angle, swinging helplessly from the chain that had been slung over the pipe. Unable to use his arms or his legs to steady himself, he hoped that the S-hook in the wall was as strong as she thought it was.

It held, but Emily tested it further. With reckless abandon, she threw both arms over his shoulders and pulled her own feet into the air, allowing the chain to support their combined weight as they swung back and forth.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!" she squealed in giddy contentment, enjoying the feeling of his body pressing against her.

She placed her feet on the solid floor and halted their movement. She gave a final tug on the chain and said, "That should be strong enough."

She placed a cushion beneath Adam. After crossing the room to the load-bearing ring, she grabbed the chain and released the S-hook.

She lowered him—almost gently—to the cushion on the floor.

"A good test," she said, and resumed her humming.

She pulled the loose end of Adam's chain down from the pipe and allowed it to fall to the floor next to him. With one end still attached to Adam's back, she brought the other end to the duffel bag next to the window. Squatting, she unzipped the bag and placed it inside. He could not tell what she was doing because her back was turned, but it seemed like she was attaching the chain to something inside the bag.

She stood up and turned her attention to the sex swing. It had a pair of large loops made of tough nylon to accommodate her legs and a strap between the loops to support her back, all of which were suspended from a metal bar. The apparatus hung from a single chain that descended from the darkness above.

She stepped carefully into the large nylon loops and settled back into the swing, allowing her feet to kick freely into the air. The ceiling, Adam realized, must have been at least forty feet above them—judging from the arc of her swing. She leaned back in her swing and swayed lazily back and forth with legs spread wide in the air.

He could not make himself look away from her.

His attention to her body delighted her, making her laugh. "You're cute when you're clueless," she observed.

She casually began to massage her clit.

He looked away in embarrassment, although he couldn't fathom why he was the one embarrassed.

"You make me forget myself," said Emily, holding her hand over her pussy in an unconvincing show of modesty. "This isn't the time for that."

Now she leaned forward, allowing her feet to touch the floor again. The swing hung just low enough for her to stand comfortably within the harness. "This should do nicely," she said. "Just as it was described."

His eyes turned again to her bag as he wondered what was inside it and why his harness should be attached to it.

She walked toward Adam and stopped inches from him. From his position, sitting on his ankles on the floor with his hands and feet bound behind him, his eyes could not quite reach the height of her dress's hem which now utterly failed to conceal the moistened folds of her pussy.

Her posture of omnipotence intoxicated him.

She cupped his head in her hands and smiled expectantly upon him.

"It's time for action," she said softly. "You know what happens now?"

"Yes, my lady." It could not have been more obvious, it seemed.

"My dear, sweet Adam," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I don't think you do."

She took three steps backward, picked up her duffel bag, and jumped out the window.

Adam screamed.

Her actions were so unexpected, he had forgotten she was still in the sex swing—which allowed her to drop only a foot before the long chain stopped her descent. She seemed quite comfortable as she rappelled outside the tower, expertly straddling the sides of the window with her feet.

"That got the heart pumping, didn't it?" she asked. She smiled at him as she shifted her weight from one toe to the other, getting the feel of the apparatus. "Oh yeah, I'm feeling it now! Exciting, isn't it, Adam?"

His fear of heights made him desperately afraid for her. "What are you doing?" he stammered before another question occurred to him. "And how do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you," she teased. "I've read your blog postings. The question you should be asking right now is, what's on the other end of your chain?"

She reached into her bag and pulled out a device he did not think existed in real life. It looked like a steel rifle with a grappling hook loaded in the barrel. The gun butt had a metal ring which now held a removable link connected to the other end of his chain.

With practiced ease, she pointed the rifle upward and pulled the trigger. A loud pop launched the grappling hook far from his view, trailing steel cable behind it. The hook made a satisfying clink on the roof above them. She flipped a switch on the grappling gun which pulled the cable taut.

She pulled an additional link from her bag and used it to attach the apparatus of her sex swing to the grappling gun, using the same metal ring to which Adam's chain was attached. Having transferred the full weight of herself and her swing to the grappling device, she released the chain that attached her to the ceiling. The empty chain swung loosely back into the room.

Adam heard the unexpected sound of a cell phone ringing from inside Emily's bag.

"Duty calls," she remarked and reached into her bag to answer it.

"You got the picture I sent?" she asked into the phone. "Yes, it's really him. I can't believe my good luck, but I found him. Code indigo. Two to extract. Repeat, two to extract."

She closed the phone and put it back in the bag, smiling at Adam.

"Now's the really exciting part," she said. "Ready to be rescued?"

"Who—?" he asked disbelievingly. "What are you?"

"If I said I was an agent of the Marstonite Sisterhood, would that mean anything?"

Adam shook his head.

"It shouldn't. We're a secret society."

"If you know all about me, then do you also know about—?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid it's too late for Monica. But there's still a chance to save Eve."

In the distance, a helicopter approached.

"That's our ride, Adam. We're meeting them at the top."

Before he could respond, she activated a powerful motor in the device which pulled her up and out of view. A moment later, the chain attached to his harness snapped tight and yanked him off the cushion, through the window, and into the cold night air.

Later Adam would regret being too terrified to appreciate the view, his heart pounding in useless protest against the chaos he now experienced. Storm clouds loomed as the chopper approached. The beautiful Emily operated her grappling device from her perch in the sex swing, far too busy to think about what her helpless cargo could see between her thighs.

"Try not to look down," Emily advised. By now the grappling gun had pulled her to the parapet at the top of the Tower. With a firm grip on the device, she pulled herself out of the nylon loops and clambered into the lookout.

Against Emily's advice, Adam looked downward. He remembered where the bedroom's balcony had been, but when he looked there, he now saw the bodyguard looking back at them. She yelled angrily into a handheld radio.

He looked up and saw Emily staring back at him, her hair whipped wildly by the wind from the approaching chopper but still looking beautiful. A nipple emerged unexpectedly from her neckline as she leaned over, but she was too distracted by the bodyguard to notice.

"She looks pissed!" shouted Emily above the noise. "LOOK OUT!"

The clang of a blade hitting stone rang from just below his knees. The Countess had appeared in the window below him. She slashed at him with a sword.

"Insolence!" she raged, swinging her blade into the wind. "He belongs to me!"

Adam clamped his legs together. The Countess poked his knees with her blade, but lacked sufficient reach to inflict more than a shallow cut.

"Hang on!" shouted Emily. "Our ride's almost here!"

"He's mine, you whore!" screamed the Countess, who climbed onto the sill to extend her blade's reach. She raised her sword with her free hand and aimed for Adam's goodies.

Emily dropped the sex swing onto the Countess. The sword became momentarily entangled with the nylon loops.

An overhead floodlight burst onto them as a giant hook swung into Emily's hands from above. She latched it to the grappling device and jumped from the Tower to the cable.

She signaled upward. "Go! Go! Go!"

The chopper ascended, pulling Adam and Emily beyond the reach of the Countess's blade.