THE CASE FILES OF "DR. BONDAGE"
|by Van ©2014|
|OUR STORY CONTINUES|
Charlie barely controlled the urge to scream into her gag and earn herself an electrified reprimand from her shock-collar. Centered in the chamber was a gynecological examination table!
Actually, the thing's design was somewhat minimal, even skeletal, more framework or scaffold than actual table. But there was no mistaking the function of the sinister device. It was stainless steel and tan leather padding and had the required stirrups, curved and padded troughs for the patient's legs, a pair of small, mushroom-like pads positioned to cushion the buttocks, a curved, padded backrest, shoulder-level extensions on either side for the arms, and a headrest. Yes, the collection of stainless steel rods, braces, gears, hand-cranks, and minimal, leather-covered pads was definitely more framework than table. Also—and it really cranked the sinister aspect up to eleven—countless tan leather straps and cuffs dangled from the thing, ready to immobilize virtually every part of the occupant's body and render her utterly helpless.
Charlie fought her kidnappers with all her strength, but her bonds rendered her resistance both pathetic and futile. Also, her kidnappers were quite obviously expert in the handling of reluctant captives. Soon, despite Charlie's best efforts, she was lifted onto the framework and a belt was loosely buckled across her lower stomach to keep her there. Her left ankle was strapped in place with her left shoe firmly in the left stirrup, her knee ropes were untied, Dr. B pulled her right foot into the right stirrup, and Suki tightened and buckled the right ankle cuff. Charlie's captors then lifted her upper body, bending her forward at the waist into a crunch, and began untying and removing her remaining rope bonds.
Charlie continued to resist. In fact, as the harness of chest ropes and the wrist cords melted away, her struggles became somewhat more effective; however, it was a decidedly unfair wrestling match, two against one, and a highly motivated amateur against two skilled and experienced pros. Also, with her ankles already strapped in place and the waist belt further impeding her struggles, the issue was never really in doubt.
In depressingly short order, Charlie found herself flat on her back with her arms raised, her elbows bent ninety degrees, and her wrists and upper arms secured in padded leather cuffs. She squirmed and tugged on her bonds for a few seconds, then sighed and forced herself to relax. Charlie was still terrified—how could she not be?—but she tried her best to disguise her fear.
Meanwhile, Suki had coiled the ropes, looped the cord through the coils to link everything together, and tossed the resulting bundle to the floor next to the door.
Also, Dr. B had stepped to the side and was undressing. Charlie blinked in surprise. Yes, her head kidnapper was undressing. Soon, Dr. B's jacket, blouse, and skirt were neatly arranged on a hanger with the skirt hanging from a pair of padded clips and the jacket over the blouse. Dr. B's costume was now reduced to a pair of dark gray high-heel pumps, nude stockings, a garter-belt, thong-style panties, and a push-up bra. The white, obviously expensive lingerie contrasted sharply with Dr. B's smooth, tan, firm skin.
Charlie was routinely exposed to the sight of semi-naked and naked women. It came with her choice of careers as a large number of costume changes routinely happen just off stage, both for the principals and the supporting cast. All too often, between scenes, there wasn't enough time to retreat to the dressing rooms. The point was, Charlie Simms had learned to appreciate fit, athletic, perfectly proportioned female beauty when she saw it, and Dr. Bondage was a looker—not that Charlie swung that way—but there was no denying her evil kidnapper was a gorgeous evil kidnapper.
Dr. B hung the hanger from a clothes tree, lifted a white lab coat off one of the hooks, and pulled it on. She then turned, smiled, and strolled back to Charlie and the framework, buttoning the coat's buttons as she came.
Suki had wheeled a pair of stainless steel carts next to Charlie's side. One was little more than a horizontal hoop supported by a vertical framework of steel rods, and clipped inside the hoop was an open plastic bag. In short, it was a rolling trashcan. The other cart was the one Charlie had noticed earlier, and was a medical equipment cart. Its top functioned like a large tray, and neatly arranged on a hospital-green cloth on that tray was a collection of scalpels, scissors, and heavy duty shears.
"Shall we proceed with the clothing-ectomy, Doctor?" Suki giggled, smiling down at their helpless captive.
Charlie squirmed and tugged on her bonds.
Dr. B, still smiling her wicked smile, untied the laces of Charlie's shoes, pulled them from her feet, and clear of the stirrups. Dr. B handed the shoes to Suki, who dropped them into the trash bag while her boss tightened Charlie's ankles cuffs an additional notch. Dr. B then selected a pair of shears from the tray and proceeded to slice through the left leg of Charlie's already unbuttoned and unzipped jeans, working her way up to the waistband. She then buckled straps across Charlie's left leg, above and below her knee, and across her left thigh. The right leg was next, then Suki pulled the ruined jeans free and tossed them in the trash bag.
"Ya know, there was no reason to cut up a perfectly good pair of overpriced jeans," Suki purred as Dr. B finished buckling additional straps that now immobilized Charlie's right leg as thoroughly as her left.
Dr. B sliced through the sides of Charlie's panties and tossed them to Suki before answering. "You know all of our guests' clothing are going to the incinerator, darling," she said. "Now, we watched Miss Dazeem's humiliation as she was forced to strip. Let's enjoy the involuntary unwrapping of Miss Simms."
Her eyes locked with Charlie's, Suki gave the ruined panties a delicate sniff, then tossed them in the trash bag. "I got nothin' better to do," she conceded.
Meanwhile, Dr. B had returned the sheers to the cart, selected a pair of bandage scissors, and was slicing her way up the center of Charlie's heather-gray T-shirt. She opened the shoulder seams as well, and what was now a gray rag joined the other ruined clothing in the trash bag. Charlie's burgundy tank-top was next, and then her bra. Dr. B paused to tighten the waist strap, then buckled straps across Charlie's chest, above and below her breasts.
"There," Dr. B purred as she smiled down at Charlie's splayed, pinioned, and nude body.
"A job well done," Suki chuckled. "Also... hubba-hubba."
"Indeed," Dr. B agreed. "It's hardly surprising that Miss Simms is in the same exquisite shape as Miss Dazeem, but nonetheless, she is a most pleasant sight."
"Yeah," Suki sighed. "Nice boobs. Not too big, but nice. And a flat tummy and firm thighs."
Charlie squirmed in her bonds, and found she could barely move. Other than wiggling her fingers and toes and turning her gagged head, she was more-or-less completely immobilized.
Dr. B selected another pair of bandage scissors, leaned close, and sliced through the band of tape cleaving Charlie's mouth and holding the cloth stuffing in place. "I remind you that your shock-collar is still in place and still active," Dr. B said as she pulled the crumpled wad from Charlie's mouth. "There will be no talking."
"Or screaming," Suki added.
Charlie worked her jaw and tried licking her lips, but her mouth and tongue were very dry. She realized Suki was holding a glass beaker of ice-water with a bent straw close to her lips. Eyes locked with the grinning Goth, she took the straw in her mouth and sucked. The cold water was glorious! With everything else that had happened, she hadn't realized how thirsty she'd become. If she could have gotten past her fear and resentment, Charlie might have offered Suki polite thanks. The collar would have compelled her to silently mouth the words, of course, but in any case, Charlie kept her gratitude to herself.
Dr. B lifted a wide roll of Elastoplast tape from the cart, stripped about seven inches from the roll, and snipped it free with the scissors. Meanwhile, Suki had set the beaker on the tray, stepped to the head of the table/framework and grabbed a handful of Charlie's hair, and was holding her head firmly against the headrest.
"Lips together, please, Miss Simms," Dr. B purred.
Charlie complied. What real choice did she have?
Dr. B stretched and pressed the tape strip against Charlie's mouth, then smoothed the margins with her fingers. "Excellent," she said with a smile, then, working together with her minion, lifted Charlie's head until she could unlock the shock-collar's padlock, release the buckle, then remove the collar completely.
Suki released her grip, and Charlie was now "free" to express her displeasure at being kidnapped, stripped, and strapped down in a humiliatingly exposed position. "M'mpfh." It was a somewhat halfhearted complaint, as Charlie's fear and apprehension still held sway.
Dr. B strolled to the clothes tree, unbuttoned, removed, and returned the lab coat to its hook, then lifted the hanger with her suit and blouse and strolled back to smile down at Charlie. "Now, it's late and you could probably use a nice nap. We'll talk in the morning." Her eyes traveled down Charlie's body to her bare feet... than up to her tape-gagged face. "There's no real reason to tape your mouth, of course," she purred. "You could scream for hours and no one could possibly hear you. I just like the way you look with your lips sealed together."
"She is pretty like that," Suki agreed. She'd removed the trash bag from its stand, cinched it closed, and knotted the drawstring. Charlie watched as the little Goth walked to the door, picked up the bundle of coiled rope, and smiled at her boss. "Well?"
"I'm coming," Dr. B chuckled, then turned and strolled to the door.
Suki opened the door for Dr. B. "She'd look really pretty with a pair of nipple rings, don't ya think?" Dr. B crossed the threshold and Suki followed, pulling the door closed behind them. "And I think you should let me shave her pussy. Also—"
That was all Charlie could hear before the door thudded closed. Nipple rings?? Shave my pussy?? Charlie tugged on her bonds, but it was hopeless. The straps creaked a little, just a tiny bit, but the frame was rock solid and didn't move at all. She heard the door's bolt slam home, followed by the click of its lock.
Charlie looked around the chamber. There were stainless steel cabinets lining the walls, as well as what appeared to be a long, thin, black rubber hose with a steel nozzle coiled on a stainless steel drum mounted at waist height. Overhead, a rectangular frame with an array of dozens of tiny spotlights was focused on her body. Even as she looked, all but about a dozen lights winked out, and the remaining spots dimmed to soft glows. Thanks to the greatly reduced glare, Charlie could now see that a rectangular mirror was mounted inside the frame. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the reflection of her helpless body in the mirror—her splayed, strapped down, and immobilized legs, her lewdly exposed crotch, her strap-dimpled waist and torso, her pinioned arms, and finally, her tape-gagged head and tousled mass of brown hair cradled by the padded headrest.
They aren't really going to pierce my nipples, she wondered (hoped), are they? Her eyes returned to her neatly trimmed but none-the-less luxuriant pubic bush. She didn't particularly want to part with her short-and-curly jungle, but if they did shave her, she'd survive.
Charlie heaved a gagged sigh and tried to relax. A nap? That probably wasn't going to happen. Her thoughts drifted back to Gail, who was almost certainly still naked and bound in a hideously tight hogtie atop her desk back at her office... and would be for hours to come. And as for Adele, her costar was naked, bound hand and foot, and tethered to the wall of a concrete cell by a chain locked to her collar.
No, a nap was out of the question. Hours of stomach knotting anxiety and futile struggling loomed ahead.
Adele opened her eyes. Even bound hand and foot with leather cuffs and chained by the neck to the wall of her cell, she'd managed to get some sleep. Not that she felt in any way refreshed, of course. Anyway, the steel portal was swinging open and framed in the door frame was Suki. She was dressed in much the same Goth costume as before, as far as Adele remembered (or cared), and was carrying a stainless steel tray.
"Good morning, Sunshine!" the grinning pixie said with infuriating enthusiasm as she clomped into the cell on her Doc Martin boots. "This is your wake-up call and room service." She placed the tray on the floor, more or less in the center of the cell, then stood erect and continued her irritating smile. "Breakfast is served, and you have one hour to prepare for the day. Enjoy." She turned, strolled back to the door, and paused in the threshold. "Eat every yummy bite, Big Mouth, or Suki-wookie will spank." She blew Adele a kiss, then paused again with the door half-closed. "Come to think of it, Suki-wookie may spank anyway. Oh well."
The door thudded closed and Adele heard the lock turn and the bolt slam. She then shifted her attention to her supposed "breakfast." Centered on the steel tray was a steel bowl with sloping sides. It was a typical tip-proof pet bowl, and even from the mattress Adele could see a large brown glob of... something in the bowl. They wouldn't! Adele thought, then awkwardly scrambled to her hobbled feet and minced her way to the tray.
The glob was indeed a glob, and gave every appearance of being the contents of a can of dog food that had been opened and unceremoniously dumped into the bowl. The glistening, brown, slightly slumped tower of brown chunks had sufficient cohesion to hold together, more or less, and in no way looked appetizing.
Obviously, her captors were playing a mind game. It would be very humiliating to voluntarily eat a bowl of dog food, if the moist chunks were indeed dog food. On the other hand, Adele was hungry. She'd had a light lunch and no dinner. So... her choices were to humiliate herself, or keep her pride and go hungry. Logic dictated she should maintain her strength. She had little doubt that she was going to need it. Adele eyed the brown mess for several seconds, then heaved a deep sigh. Stuffing her face with dog food would, indeed, be humiliating, but only if she let it be so.
Wrists and ankles trapped in broad leather cuffs with padlocked buckles, her ankles hobbled with a short chain and her wrists behind her back and locked together, an eighteen-inch chain linking the wrist cuffs to the back of her collar, and the collar itself tethered by a long chain to the wall, Adele knelt before the tray and gathered her resolve. She then leaned down and took a tentative but unavoidably messy bite of her breakfast.
Truth be told, if this was dog food, the dog in question ate well. The chunks had texture and the flavor wasn't half bad, sort of like beef stew. It was still humiliating, but, Adele reminded herself, only if she let it be humiliating. At least the stuff was edible.
Adele continued eating. Emptying the dish wasn't going to be the ordeal she thought it would be. There wasn't that much of it. However, her hair was a bit of a problem. She had to keep tossing her head to try and keep it out of the bowl, and she had no idea how she was going to clean her face when she was finished. She paused to sit upright, lift her grubby chin and put her head back, and give her head a vigorous shake, trying to get as much as she could of her dark tresses to fall down her back. Her chain rattled in the process. She then leaned down and continued her meal.
She hoped Charlie's day was starting better.
Charlie was having a vivid, somewhat erotic, but decidedly nonsensical dream loosely based on a key scene of Tatooine Nights.
Adele's character, Commander Troy Pendara of the Imperial Space Navy (Customs & Excise Division), had chased Charlie's character, Yanni Starclashi, a notorious rogue and smuggler, deep into the Jundland Wastes. But her detachment of Imperial Storm Troopers was ambushed and massacred by Jawas, Troy was captured, and the Jawas were debating whether to sell her to the Hutts, the Tusken Raiders, or the Rebel Alliance. Troy was Yanni's enemy, but also her one-time friend, so she didn't want her tortured to death by the Sand People. And if Troy was traded to the Hutts, the gangsters would use her as a bargaining chip in their ongoing efforts to gain formal recognition from the Empire. Whatever the outcome, it probably wouldn't be good for independent smugglers like the Starclashi clan.
So, Yanni had done the only logical thing: she'd boldly walked into the Jawa encampment and challenged them to a dance-off.
The two dozen "Jawas" in the cast were some of the city's most talented young dancers from all the best dance schools. All were between eight and twelve, and were undeniably charming and delightful in their burlap robes with only their their glowing eyes visible from under their hoods. They shuffled and wobbled like proper Jawas when moving about the set, but once the dancing started... they were absolutely adorable. The audience was going to eat them up.
Adele, meaning Troy, was dressed in her black, skintight Imperial uniform with knee-boots and rank insignia, and during the dance-off was cleave-gagged and tied in a standing spread-eagle between two wooden posts. Yanni (Charlie) was in the metal bikini and long, fluttering loincloth that was standard female garb in the Tatooine desert, plus desert robe, of course. The Jawas were in their robes, as always, but once the number started, the robes opened to show the girls' brown tights and burlap mini-dresses with rope sashes. It was all very innocent and cute—as planned for the Broadway stage.
In Charlie's dream, however, the girls were well-endowed but unusually short adult women, and when their robes parted, burlap string bikinis and a lot of nubile flesh was on display. Also, Troy's uniform was ripped and hanging from her sweating body in tatters, leaving very little of her anatomy to the audience's collective imagination.
The dance number started as rehearsed, but went on and on, until Yanni was as sweaty as the captive Troy. The Jawa-babes were tireless, and executed the demanding routine with grace and precision beyond their years—beyond their years as pre-adolescent dancers, that is, not beyond their years as hot, post-adolescent dream-munchkins hardened by desert life. The problem was, the routine went on and on and on and never seemed to reach the end! Instead of a show-stopping number, the Jawa-babes were dancing Charlie into the ground! Or in this case, the sand.
Anyway, in the musical, Yanni was supposed to win the dance-off, gain custody of Troy, then lead her offstage as her bound and gagged prisoner and their adventure would continue.
In Charlie's dream, however, the dance went on and on and on and on until Charlie—that is Yanni—passed out from exhaustion... and awoke to find herself face-to-face (boob-to-boob, tummy-to-tummy, thigh-to-thigh, etc.) and bound in a standing spread-eagle against Troy! And they were both naked! And the Jawa-babes were rubbing Bantha butter on their bodies! And—
That was when Charlie woke up—to find herself still naked, tape-gagged, and strapped to Dr. B's framework/table. The cell door was open and Dr. B, herself, was wheeling yet another stainless steel cart into the cell.
"Good morning, Miss Simms," Dr. B said cheerfully as she pushed the cart next to Charlie, rolled over a padded stool, and sat.
Charlie watched as her kidnapper poured coffee from a thermal carafe into a china mug, added a splash of half-and-half from a small pitcher, then gave it a stir with a tiny spoon. Then, Dr. B carefully, gently teased back the edge of Charlie's tape-gag and slowly peeled the strip from her mouth. It stretched and tugged at her lips as it surrendered its adhesive grip.
Dr. B lifted the mug and held it to Charlie's lips. "Careful, it's hot," she cautioned.
Charlie took a careful sip. The coffee was, indeed, hot. It was also bold and full-bodied and with exactly the right amount of half-and-half, just like Charlie liked it. Have they been following me, taking notes? she wondered. It made sense that her kidnappers would track her movements, establish her daily routine, and take note of her habits... like how she took her coffee. Adele too! Charlie reminded herself. They would have watched Adele too.
"What are you doing to Adele?" Charlie demanded between sips.
Dr. B smiled. "Concerned for her friend," she purred. "How sweet. Don't worry about Miss Dazeem. My Suki has already served her breakfast." She lifted a cover, revealing a plate stacked high with small pastries and tarts. "You and I will be sharing breakfast." She placed the cover on the cart's lower shelf, then indicated the plate with a graceful gesture. "Pastries with various fruit and custard fillings, varieties of quiche—ham, bacon, cheese, crab, etc.—mini-bagels with creme cheese, capers, and lox... A veritable feast."
Charlie's stomach growled in appreciation, which beat the heck out of churning in terror. However, an undercurrent of fear was still very much present.
Dr. B popped a tiny pastry into Charlie's mouth, then took a bite of a mini-quiche, herself.
Charlie chewed and swallowed, watching her kidnapper pour herself a mug of black coffee and take a sip.
The bizarre meal continued.
Charlie tried to keep track of the variety of items on the plate, the exact variety. She very much doubted the police would be able to use Dr. B's shopping habits to track her back to her lair, but you never could tell. After Dr. B let them go—and she had to believe that eventually Dr. B would let them go—she wanted to be able to tell the cops something.
Dr. B presented one of the mini-bagels, and Charlie bit off half. The combination of smoked salmon, creme cheese, and capers was delicious. Maybe if I can get her talking, Charlie reasoned, she'll let something slip. Charlie chewed and swallowed the second half of the mini-bagel, enjoyed a sip of coffee, and organized her thoughts. But before she could speak—
"Do you like women, Charlie?" Dr. B inquired.
Charlie blinked in surprise. "W-what?"
"Choose one off the following menu," Dr. B said with a chuckle. "Are you straight, gay, or bisexual?"
"I..." Charlie blushed, not in embarrassment, but in anger. "None of your damn business."
Dr. B's smile widened. "So, your feisty side emerges, at last." She fed her glowering captive a mini quiche Lorraine. "I do so enjoy a playmate who shows a little fight."
Charlie's angry facade faltered—'Playmate?'—then she resumed her stony stare.
"No matter," Dr. B chuckled. "Your sexual preference, I mean." She selected a pastry, popped it into her mouth, then fed a similar tidbit to Charlie. The smiling kidnapper chewed and swallowed, then sipped her coffee. "As a bit of an informal experiment," she continued, "I've decided to explain a little of what you can expect for the next few days, while we wait for Ms. Tarkington to pay the ransom."
Charlie flinched as Dr. B reached out, cupped her right breast, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Stop that!" she demanded, squirming against the straps.
Dr. B ignored Charlie's outburst. Her hand relaxed, but remained on Charlie's breast. "I won't go into the fine details of what's in store," she said, then winked. "Wouldn't want to spoil any of my carefully planned surprises, now would I?" She took Charlie's right nipple between her thumb and forefinger and began giving it a gentle massage. "I will tell you, however, that you won't be harmed in any way, and you will be released unharmed, even if Ms. Tarkington fails to pay the ransom. And the same goes for Miss Dazeem. However..." She took a firm grip on the nipple and gave it a tug, stretching both the nipple and breast. "Suki and I are going to have a lot of fun at your expense. Pleasure and pain. Sugar and spice. Many many orgasms. But you won't be harmed, I promise." She released Charlie's nipple, and her breast rebounded.
"Keep your hands off of me, you bitch!" Charlie huffed, tugging on her bonds. "Or I'll—" Dr. B had placed her finger against Charlie's lips.
"Now, now, Miss Simms," Dr. B purred. "If you're not going to be polite while we enjoy our meal, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all, or you'll wear electrified nipple clamps. Understand?"
Eyes wide, Charlie nodded her head.
Dr. B withdrew her finger, then popped a mini-quiche into Charlie's mouth. Charlie chewed and glowered at her captor. "As I was saying," Dr. B continued, "it's an experiment. You've been forewarned and know that while you're both helpless to resist, Adele will suffer in ignorance, fear, and despair; and you will suffer in stoic anticipation of your eventual release."
Charlie swallowed and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself when Dr. B raised her finger, again, and waggled it in warning.
"Not a word, Miss Simms," Dr. B chuckled. She held Charlie's mug so she could take another sip of coffee. "Anyway, you will know, Miss Dazeem will not, and you'll be gagged whenever the two of you are together, so you won't be able to spill the proverbial beans. It will be... interesting."
Her eyes locked with her kidnapper's, Charlie accepted another bite of lox and mini-bagel, and the bizarre meal continued.
And after the plate was empty and the last of the coffee consumed... what then?