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Subject: Journal Entry 123 / 0512  [ Kathy On The Table ]
Message-ID: <1992Jun8.232706.9710@nwnexus.WA.COM>
From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Date: 8 Jun 92 23:27:06 GMT
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     Journal Entry 123 / 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 Gerion; I stepped to the left, avoiding his massive 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, Tellakelvars, 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 Gerion 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; it is quite another to actually watch a Tsern, Centaur or Gerion
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 terras
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,
alright; 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."
--
"Kathy On The Table"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., And Related Tales
are (c) 1989, 1990 Elf Matheiu Sternberg.  May be freely distributed by
cybernetic media; hardcopies are limited to single printings for
personal use.
-- 
 __   Eagles soar, but weasels never get sucked into jet engines.   __
 \/                                                                 \/
                            Elf Sternberg
    elf@halcyon.com    elf%polari@uunet.uu.net   elf@seanews.wa.com