“There’s a send-block on it,” Karn growled in frustration.
“A what?” Lilli frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, uh…I wanted to send it to your Mother’s computing device,” Karn said, thinking quickly. Damn it, he had to be more careful around the little female! He had gotten entirely too comfortable committing espionage with Lilli in the same room with him.
“To my mother’s device?” Lilli asked, clearly confused.
“So she can see the truth. She’s the Archivist, isn’t she? This ought to go to her,” Karn said pointing at the screen. “But maybe I can record it instead—on this,” he added, picking up a tiny drive at random out of a pile on the desktop. “Let’s see what’s on it—maybe we can erase it and put the scene from the kennel room on it instead. Then I can load it secretly onto your Mother’s computing device. She’ll wonder where it came from, but she’ll have to act on it. After all, the case is in court—or going to court—very soon.”
“Oh, and as the Archivist, she’s supposed to supply the court with any relevant documents or evidence. Right!” Lilli exclaimed. “Good idea, Karn.”
“Thanks, baby.” He grinned at her and slipped the tiny, fingernail-sized drive into a slot in the manipu-cube.
He thought he’d take a quick look at the files on the drive before erasing them, but when the image popped up on the liquid crystal screen, he forgot all about that. Because what appeared on the screen seemed to be some kind of amateur porn—made right in the next room with the circular bed.
“Oh, my…” Lilli’s voice was hushed as she looked over his shoulder at the screen. “What…what are they doing?”
The scene showed the same bed they had just seen, only this time it was occupied. Five Mistresses—all of them wearing masks, apparently for anonymity—were lying full length on the long, furry pillows. They had their skirts hitched up to their waists, showing bare bottoms and it was clear they had no panties on—not even the skimpy kind that Yonnite High Society favored. This was obvious because they had their legs spread and their knees were bent, resting on either side of the pillows they were lying on.
“Mmm,” one murmured, rubbing against the fur of her pillow. “Lady Zangelo, this feels lovely.”
“I told you—no names!” another of the masked Mistresses snapped. “And of course it’s nice—it’s fresh zoola fur. It costs a ridiculous sum, of course and it’s doubly expensive since I have to throw all the pillows out and get fresh ones for every friction party. But I think it’s worth it. Rub it against your nipples—the feeling is quite unique.”
At this, all of the Mistresses pulled down the tops of their dresses—not that they had very far to pull in most cases—and began to rub their bare breasts against the long, silky fur of their pillows. There were appreciative moans from all of them and several congratulated Lady Zangelo on her very good taste.
“Now where are those bodyslaves?” another Mistress asked, frowning peevishly. “I’m getting quite chilly lying here all open like this!”
“They’ll be coming in a moment. They just have to put on their friction sleeves,” another Mistress told her. “Oh, Lady Z, did you ever get that one you just bought—that Nightwalker Kindred—trained enough to participate?”
“Not yet, more’s the pity.” Lady Zangelo sighed. “For he’s hung like a Prosperian thunder-beast! But he’s still completely savage—won’t obey, though I used the pain collar on him fifty times a day!”
“Well, he’ll come around,” another Mistress said. “They always do. Maybe you’ll get to feel that long, thick shaft of his during your next friction party, Lady Z.”
“One hopes so,” Lady Zangelo sniffed. “I swear that shaft of his is the only reason I bought him. That and that awful Mistress Bittlebum goading me and saying that he was completely untameable and nobody could handle him if she couldn’t.”
“Lady Bittlebum couldn’t train a seventy-year old bodyslave with only one good eye and a limp—let alone a young, virile warrior,” another Mistress said.
“It’s not Lady Bittlebum I blame for the Kindred’s savagery,” Lady Zangelo said. “It’s that old Mistress Hownow—the one who owned him in the first place. Do you know she actually raised him as her child without the use of any kind of collar or pain device?”
“She did?” Many of the Mistress’s eyes widened behind their masks.
“Whatever for?” one of them asked.
Lady Zangelo snorted.
“Why, to be her heir! Can you imagine? A male heir?”
“No wonder he’s so intractable,” another Mistress remarked. “If she raised him as an equal to females. How perfectly ridiculous!”
“Nevertheless, I will break him eventually,” Lady Zangelo said, frowning. “I have a new spiked neuro-collar that I ordered specially made for him, coming in tomorrow. Its spikes hook directly into the nervous system and stimulate the pain centers in the brain. That should make him behave!”