Kathy On The Table

Attendes 0512

Parma always smells like… well, like a space station. What I mean is, it always smells like they just cleaned the carpet, that they just replaced the padding on the walls, and that they just purged the air system. Breathing the ridiculously clean air always makes my sinuses dry up.

But I had good reason for being here. The Eldarfaroth had returned from the stars, and I was here, among this huge group of friends and companions, to receive old friends and companions. Obviously, since it had docked only three hours ago, it was going to be a long time before I got a chance to talk to Ian, but it wasn’t Ian I was here to talk to… It was his Captain of Engineering, one Katherine Hawkwind, an old shipmate, friend, research partner, and, let’s be honest, slave.

It had been almost exactly one hundred years since Kathy and I had shipped out on the Eldarfaroth. During the three years we had together on the Eldarfaroth, She had gone from the innocent young girl in my physics class to a very mature young woman. Her trip was marked by her complete submission to me, and her control of me. I had learned, for real, what I had always known in theory; that the submissive always has control of the long-term D&S relationship. She told me what she wanted; it was up to me to suffer the creative effort of fulfilling her passive desires, desires that had been quite active, really, in her imagination.

I openly wore around my neck the thin white gold chain Kathy had given to me the day she shipped out as an Academy student; dangling from it was the tiny silver-and-steel key to her womanhood. I wanted her to see it, and I wanted to use it.

The crowd around me became just a little louder, and I looked up to see if access number 7 had opened up, only to find my view blocked by a huge Ssphynx; I stepped to the left, avoiding stepping on his tail, and looked at the display. The access tube was being pressurized, and if all locks cleared, it would be any second now. I waited quietly.

The door opened. Politely, the crowd parted to make room for the departing crew. I simply sat, waiting. As the second shift crew departed, I watched the wonderful blur of species walking past, looking for Kathy. Uncia, Centaur, Tindals, Humans, Felinzi, Mephits, Markals, Ssphynxs, Satryl; a screech of Into the air! as two Dolphins, assisted by gravity-control bodystockings, vaulted across the ceiling, stopping at the door from the receiving room to the hallway with almost contemptuously simple flicks of their tails. Starship pilots. I shook my head, smiling. Oh lord, Alexander Bell’s first transcontinental telephone call was so right.

In the blur of fascination, watching them all go by, I almost missed the blonde. “Kathy!” I shouted.

She turned, looking for me. “Ken!” she shouted when she did. She turned and ran towards me, through the crowd, disturbing people, stepping on feet, vaulting over the Ssphynx in her way, into my arms, her lips on mine instantly. The kiss was deep and friendly and familiar and I returned it happily. She broke the kiss and stayed there, in my arms, her forehead against mine. “Or should I have said, ‘Master?’“

I laughed. “Ken is fine, sweetheart. You’re looking good. How was your first trip out as Captain?”

“Oy-flipping-vey, as Kurt would say. I’m not sure it’s exactly what I wanted.” We began to walk back to the station center, arms around each other. “It was… difficult. It’s less being an engineer and being more of a commander. I might want to go back to being senior engineer, and let someone with more decision authority do my job.”

“You mean they don’t listen to you?”

“No, no, it’s not that. I mean… Well, Pendorian starships aren’t like Terran starships, if what I’ve seen on documentary is accurate. People in my department listen to me because I am the best engineer on the ship; problem is, I don’t really know when to tell people to do their jobs. I want to run engineering by myself. I get the feeling people are just taking cues from what I’m doing and finishing up jobs I couldn’t because I just get too tired.”

“You don’t know when to delegate, is that it?”

“Sort of. I guess… I just feel silly ordering people to do things. Or even asking. I know, that’s really dumb. But it’s part of the way I feel. Funny thing is, I don’t feel at all bad about it while I’m part of a ‘scene.’“

“Different rules, different systems. Different worlds, really.”

“Yeah.”

We were silent for a while as I directed her the SDisks back to Pendor. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise.” I said. We stepped…

… into a small receiving room made entirely of large cut blocks of stone, with a huge oaken door in the far wall. We stepped off of the disk, which had resolved into a simple silver pentagram. “Hello, Lynn,” I said.

“Hello, Ken,” said an ELF, an AI’s holographic realization. Lynn’s is of a very tall woman wearing fine, flowing lace and knee-high black boots. Since it’s only an illusion, Lynn can look like anything she wants. I like her choice. “The other members of your party are waiting for you in the banquet hall. Your final guest has announced that he will be arriving in a few minutes.”

“Thank you. Come, Kathy, this way…” I led her down the hallway of a very typical medieval castle, except I knew hidden behind the walls was the type of technology Disney only dreamed of having. I thought it amusing that the theme-park-like environment this castle was at the center of was so very adult-oriented. The torches smoked, but the air was clear; The floor was dusty, but never health-threateningly so. The walls are dingy, but it wouldn’t rub off onto your costume. Actually, I felt sort-of out of place. I’d worn basic denim, flannel, and what was quickly becoming my second skin, the leather jacket Joran had made for me; Kathy wore her ship’s blue-and-white uniform. Only Lynn looked proper, all ghostly and see-through to boot.

“Ken, your final guest has appeared, and I’m leading him down the hall now,” Lynn announced. “And here is your hall.” I brushed past Lynn and took both the large bars in had, throwing them apart and pushing the large wooden doors open. They parted to reveal an large hall set with a small round table. I led Kathy in and said, “Welcome home, Kathy.”

Around the table were a few other people, P’nyssa, Aaden, Borodir, and…

“M’Vahn!” Kathy cried as the door opened.

“Hello, Kathy,” Vahn said with earnest pleasure. The Felinzi rose and embraced her. “How have you been?”

“Oh, fine, fine. I take it your report did okay.”

“Better than okay. I actually got it accepted as material for my assignment as Starship Counselor.”

M’Vahn was a young Felinzi on her first mission when Kathy and I had decided to allow her to monitor our games. I was very impressed with her; she did not, as I had expected, concentrate on me. Perhaps that’s conceited of me, and I have to be very careful to not be conceited. But she instead concentrated on the power aspects of mine and Kathy’s D&S relations, and ended up a very respected expert in the field. And despite my inquiries, I still don’t know whether or not she herself indulges.

We sat, talking quietly. I introduced Kathy to Aaden. Aaden was as gracious as I expected him to be, and actually looked intrigued by her. That’s amazing to me, since Aaden is, as far as I know, entirely homosexual. He sat next to Borodir, and I’m sure those two were playing ‘footsie’ under the table.

Our last visitor arrived- Ian. He walked as if he owned the universe, and I suppose that’s a good attitude for a starship captain. No ego, just a total self-confidence. He sat, and I announced to Lynn that we were ready to dine.

Dinner was a sumptuous meal, complete with five courses and wine, all served by beautiful young slaves, both male and female. At one point, the Village was theme-park in that all of the ‘extras’ were androids, holograms, and special effects; Now there was enough population, both on Pendor as a whole, and those aware of the Village, that I’d expect every one of these to be real people, volunteers. And watching them, sometimes I could not help but smile. Humans and Felinzi and such, it is quite easy to imagine and experience them in submissive roles, but it is quite another to actually watch an Uncia, Centaur or Ssphynx slave serve you dinner.

Lynn was also kind enough to join us, at my invitation. She had always been there, being the AI monitor, but I thought it best to allow the guests to interact with her on as personal a basis as possible. I asked her how things were going.

“Too well.”

“Too well? How is that possible?”

“I’ve got too damned many slaves, Ken. I don’t need a single android anymore, except possibly as on-the-site observers. I don’t need tops, either; I’ve got more than enough who can fill their roles, take their cues, and stay inside the game. I want your permission to expand.

“Well, you know you’ve got my permission.”

“It’ll require some geophysical work to reshape the island.”

“What about a second site?”

“I’m looking into it; I may take up another whole valley.”

“Sweetheart, there are over two and three quarter million terrs unused; feel free to use as much space as you like.”

“I know,” she said, “but I’d really like to stay as close to Backwater as possible.”

The dinner was mostly uneventful, and Kathy was very tired when it was finally over. I asked her if she wanted to go home, but included that we had a bed for her here. She accepted the bed I offered, and I let her sleep there, alone.

Which is exactly what I wanted. When the door closed, I walked down the hallway with an evil smile on my face.


Ten hours later, in the same hall. The hall had been cleared and the table installed in the middle of the room. Only this table was no longer a rectangle; it was an ‘X’, carefully made for the purpose to which I was about to put it. The four sides came away in individual triangles, revealing the shape; at the ends of each of the arms, a small block came out, revealing recessed steel rings for fixing restraints; the ‘head’ of the table wasn’t a perfect triangle, but towards the center still retained a crosspiece so that my victim would have something to rest his or her head on. And the table was comfortably warm to the touch. Whoever had made this table was obviously pleased with his handiwork; Down at the lower left leg, under the carefully hand-painted and polished lacquer was, engraved and filled with gold, the initials ‘M.K.’ I, too, was pleased with his handiwork.

The torches had been turned low, so that menacing light flickered from the four corners of the room, and in the main hall fireplace a blaze had been made, tended carefully by two slaves. They were not the focus of my attention this pre-dawn morning. Breakfast was.

And, as I had summoned them, four slaves walked in. All were male, and they were large members of their predominantly large respective species. Over their shoulders they bore my subject, my slave- Kathy. Apparently in the five minute walk here she had given up struggling, but as they laid her down on the table she took to fighting again.

It was useless and she knew it. Like I had submitted to four men because of her, now she submitted to like strength, and they easily secured her to the table, face down. Another slave thoughtfully placed a pillow under her head.

I bid the four depart. Other than the fire tenders and the one young girl slave at the door to the left of the fireplace, we were alone.

I walked to the head of the ‘X’ and crouched down until I was eye-level with Kathy. “Good Morning, slave,” I said in an even voice.

She looked up at me with pure malice in her eyes. “Damn you, Ken, you didn’t say you were going to start in on me this quickly!”

I smiled cruelly for a second, then rose. With a short gesture I summoned the girl by the door to my side. She stood by me without saying anything. I turned to her and said, “Girl, has this one,” point to Kathy, “said the word I gave your mistress?”

“No, sir.” Eyes downcast.

“Thank you. I was promised a slave who can cook. Can you?”

“Yes, sir. It is my training and my discipline.”

“Excellent. You are to cook for me an omelet, four eggs, ham, potatoes, cheese, some onion. You are permitted your choice of other ingredients and spices, and I will be lenient in all except one thing; when you bring it to me, its temperature must be very hot, but not burning to the skin. Do you understand?”

I think that was a small smile. “Yes, sir.”

“Your mistress will instruct you in what utensils are to be left for me. Go.”

She departed. I was left alone with Kathy, and I returned to my crouch. “That was not the way to greet your master, Kathy. Try again.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said “Forgive me, Master.”

“I will. But, two things. We must find a way to fill time until breakfast is served, and we must punish you for your impertinence.” I rose again and walked around to the side, caressing her skin lightly along her back. I brushed her long blond hair off of the back of her neck and leaned over, kissing her at the nape. She shivered, as if cold. I left a slow trail as I worked down her back.

I stopped. With my fingers curled, I scratched at her back, leaving little red trails along her skin, curling up to her buttocks. While never taking my hand from her body, I rounded down her leg until I was at the bottom of the ‘X’, now between her legs. Kathy is a small girl with a well-endowed ass, large soft curves that just call to be caressed. And caress them I did, with both the palms of my hands and with the nails, evoking from her the physical responses I had known a hundred years ago she could not resist.

I ran my hand along the crease, down to the cleft between her thighs, and I found her cunt to be wet with desire. Oh, she wanted it, all right; if she hadn’t, she’d have used to safeword I’d given her those hundred years ago.

With grave solemnity, I took the chain from around my neck. I took the key in one hand and with the other raised the tiny lock that held her labia shut. I unlocked her, and hung the lock with key in place from a small projection in the carved work of the table. I did not disturb her small charm, the black diamond and eagle feather, that hung from her upper labia.

I lid a finger into her cunt and pressed it lightly against her pubic bone; the moan I got from her was heartwarming. I slowly slid my finger in and out of her, and then trailed it down to her clit, circling it lazily, occasionally pushing the charm aside; a sob of frustration wracked her.

I eased my hand back up onto her buttocks, then down her left leg as I walked back around to her side. “You’re enjoying what I’m doing, aren’t you, slave?” I said.

“Yes, sir,” she said, breathless.

“Then I’m going to have to change; this is supposed to be punishment.” I placed my left hand on the small of her back, my thumb pressed into the crease of her buttocks. I pulled my right hand back and then brought my palm solidly down onto her ass.

She groaned. That hurt me as well, though. I was surprised at the sting in my hand.

But I resolved to share this with her. I smacked her again. And again. I could feel my palm heating up, and I could see her ass warming up as well. I delivered the blows repeatedly, alternating cheeks, and the palmprints became visible and welted.

At the count (in my mind) of thirty, I ceased. I was grateful that I did; my hand hurt, but more importantly, her ass was a magnificent, beautiful red. Still maintaining that contact that I was finding as useful in discipline as I did in massage, I walked back to between her legs and kissed her ass.

She started. I kissed her again, and then gently lay hands on each cheek, spreading them apart. Her tiny anus was exposed, and I kissed it, licking around it slowly. She groaned again; against the cheeks of my face I could feel the heat coming off the cheeks of her ass.

The slave girl I’d dismissed earlier had perfect timing; Lynn must have cued her. The door opened, and she walked in, tray in one hand, serving frame in the other. She set down the frame and put the tray on it.

I turned to her and said, “Get me that chair there. The high one.”

She dutifully brought me the chair, and I dismissed her. I sat down between Kathy’s legs, took the serving dish from the tray. I snapped off the statis field, and the steam that hit my nostrils smelled wonderful, but more than that, it was hot. With an almost casual gesture, I slid the heated meal onto Kathy’s ass.

She screamed a tiny scream, a muffled, high-pitched scream. I took the fork in hand and slowly and deliberately cut off a piece of the omelet. The edge of the fork was not sharp, and did not hurt her; stabbing at the piece did, however. She jumped.

“Slave, if you disturb my breakfast, I shall have to punish you again. Do you want that?”

There was no reply except a muffled “uh-uh.” I smiled, and returned to my meal. A glass of milk was on the tray as well, and I ate and drank my meal slowly. I reveled in the control I had as her beautiful butt was revealed bite by bite. I feel I showed great self-restraint; never once did I draw blood with my stabs, even though I had specifically asked Lynn for ‘a very sharp fork.’

When I was through, I took the dry cloth and wiped off my place at the table. Kicking the chair back, I leaned over and lightly kissed her bruised and abused buttocks. There were no burns or scalds, as far as I could tell, and for that I was grateful; Lynn was, as always, the perfect host, providing the perfect meal at the perfect temperature. I casually licked her ass.

As I licked, Kathy began to groan louder, pushing her ass up against my face, encouraging me to go deeper. I denied that pleasure to her at first, but eventually I succumbed to the magnificent charms of her buttocks and probed between them, slowly and deeply lick about her anus. I trailed down until I was no longer crouching, but kneeling on the floor. My tongue slid into her cunt, then down to her clitoris. She moaned, the pain of my permitted abuses being replace by the pleasure I was creating. I used one hand to pull her hood clear of her clitoris, then slowly licked around and over it. She became very still, trying not to disturb me, but the muscles in her thighs were trembling against my head. I found my position somewhat uncomfortable; I was craning my neck, and my nose was buried in her vagina, making breathing an optional event.

But I wanted to feel her come, to give her that release. I kept licking her, and when she did come she screamed so loud the slaves in their holding pens down in town must have heard her.

With a single word the fetters at her wrists and ankles came loose, and I said “Turn over slowly.”

She did, and before her buttocks touched the wood of the table I gathered her into my arms. She threw her arms around my neck and lay her head against my chest. I walked to the far end of the room, where a large bath, three meters square, had been revealed under the sliding stone floor, and, descending into the warm water, eased Kathy in as well.

She hissed when her ass hit the water, and part of me fully expected to see steam rise. I smiled broadly. “G’morning,” I said.

“G’morning, Master. Thank you.”

That ‘Thank you’ sounded more honest than ritualistic, and I asked her, “For what?”

Her face was happy, and she said, “For reminding me of what I am, in your arms. I love you, Ken. You’re always so very good to me.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”


A little later, as dawn broke over the Village and Norman’s ‘great rooster’ crowed from the top tower of the Castle, I said “How are you feeling?”

“Well, I still won’t be able to sit down for a week, but other than that, I feel great. It’s hard to say, you know, but I feel cleaned, lightened.” She cocked her head to the side and said, “Where did you get that idea, anyway?”

“What, the omelet? Oh, that’s an old one. You could almost say it’s a tradition. The Marquis DeSade came up with it, or at least, he first catalogued the idea himself, in his 120 Days of Sodom. The omelet is the perfect meal, too; holds together on it’s own, can be very hot, and doesn’t require a knife to eat, but it does need a fork.”

“That hurt, you know. I bet I’ve got an omelet-shaped scald combined with your hand-welts.”

“Let me see,” I said.

She rose and turned her back to me. “Nope,” I said. “No scald, but those palmprints are quite striking,” I said.

“Very funny,” she said.

“Stay standing, and turn around, legs wide apart.” She did as instructed, and I carefully slid the small lock back into its place.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “So, are you coming into space anytime soon?”

“Why, would you like me to?”

“Yes! Please?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. But it’s my decision, remember. Come on, let’s dry off. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

“Oh, what are we doing?”

“I’m taking you shopping.”

“Deal.”