|FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY WYNTER|
|by Van ©2018|
|OUR STORY CONTINUES
It was getting late, but there was still a lot of pedestrian traffic on the streets. Nikki "Heat" Braslow, NYPD Detective, climbed the front steps of her big sister's building and pressed the button for her apartment. There was a brief pause... then, simultaneously a buzzer sounded and the front door unlocked with an audible click. The intercom remained silent. Nikki was expected.
Nikki was wearing the same black pants-suit and white cotton blouse she'd worn to work, and her long, straight blond hair was pulled back in a functional ponytail. Her shoes were flat-heeled and practical, suitable for foot pursuits but not unattractive. Arriving at Kirsten's apartment door, she pressed the doorbell.
The door opened and Nikki was greeted by the dimpled smile of Bertie Finch. The little Brit was wearing one of her stylish and semi-expensive business suits and was devilishly cute, as always. A ghost of a thrill shivered down Nikki's spine (and between her legs) as she smiled back. "Muffin" was scrumptious, as usual. "Okay, I'm here," Nikki said. "Why?"
"Why what?" Bertie responded.
"Why did you call me?" Nikki drawled.
"Close the damn door and get in here!" a voice shouted from Kirsten's bedroom. The voice belonged to Kitty Wynter.
"Brace yourself," Bertie warned in a whisper as she stepped aside.
"Against what?" Nikki whispered back as she crossed the threshold.
"So many questions," Bertie purred as she closed and double-locked the door. "You'll see."
They made their way to Kirsten's bedroom—and Nikki froze in the doorway.
Kitty was standing next to the bed, and on the bed was her big sister. And oh-by-the-way, Kirsten was naked and bound with pink duct-tape, hand and foot and several places in between. Uncharacteristically (and comically) her hair was parted and tied in twin ponytails secured with pink ribbons.
"Help me," the prisoner on the bed whined in a quiet voice, blushing furiously and squirming in her bonds.
Still dumbfounded, Nikki stepped to the foot of the bed. Her sister's tape bonds were printed with disgustingly cute Hello Kitty, uh, kitties. She focused on Kitty. "The hell?"
"Don't worry," Kitty muttered, "we didn't invite you here for a foursome."
"Kitty!" Bertie admonished her partner. She was now standing next to Nikki (and blushing, like Kirsten). "We didn't do this," she reassured her tall, blond friend (with benefits).
Kitty nodded at the naked prisoner on the bed. "Shyster, here... was attacked by ninjas."
Kirsten continued blushing, but said nothing.
Nikki's brows furrowed. "Ninjas," she responded. It wasn't a question.
"Ya see?" Kitty asked Bertie, "even Nikki Heat can tell she's lying."
Nikki glared at Kitty. "Don't call me that." She was referring to her "Nikki Heat" nickname, of course. It was bad enough she had to take good-natured ribbing from her fellow cops, but she didn't have to take it from Kitty Wynter. Nikki focused on her big sister. "Ninjas? Really?"
"They were dressed all in black," Kirsten responded, "from head to toe, with hoods. Ninjas. And they kept demanding I tell them the whereabouts of someone they referred to as 'Kitty's new employee', whatever that means."
"Soft boots with their big toes in separate little pockets?" Nikki inquired.
"Uh, yeah," Kirsten said. "Tabbies? I think they're called tabbies. Tabbie-boots? I think they're Japanese... meaning the boots."
Nikki nodded, gravely, then focused on Kitty. "She's lying."
"Nikki!" Kirsten gasped.
"Through her teeth," Nikki added.
"Told ya," Kitty said to Bertie, then smiled at Nikki. "She claims they tickled her feet to make her talk."
"And it was all about a so called 'new employee'," Nikki drawled.
"The very same," Kitty nodded.
Kirsten noted that her little sister was smiling, again, but just like Nikki had always been able to tell when Kirsten was lying, Kirsten had always been able to tell when Nikki knew that she was lying... like now.
Kitty nodded, then shared a sinister smile with Bertie.
"Obviously, something dodgy is afoot," Bertie purred.
"Yeah... dodgy," Kitty agreed, then heaved a rather theatrical sigh. "But without additional information we'll never be able to ferret out the truth."
"Never," Bertie agreed, solemnly.
Kitty frowned in concentration. "I wonder if there's some... method we might use to expedite matters?" she purred, gazing down at Kirsten's naked, helpless form.
"You aren't suggesting ninja methods," Bertie gasped, "are you?"
Kitty beamed. "What a wonderful idea."
Kirsten froze in her bonds, then tugged on her cuffs.
Nikki turned and regarded the investigative partners. Obviously, they'd planned this before she came. "You expect me to stand here and watch while you tickle-torture my sister?"
"Oh, no," Kitty responded, shaking her head.
"Certainly not," Bertie agreed.
Kitty indicated a comfortable easy chair off to the side with a graceful flip of the wrist. "By all means, take a load off."
Nikki strolled over and sat in the chair, crossed her legs, and smiled at Kirsten.
Needless to say, Kirsten was horrified. "Nikki?" she whined in a plaintive whisper.
Kitty sat on the bed and pulled Kirsten's head and shoulders onto her lap. "You have a good view?" she asked Nikki.
Nikki grinned. "Better than I like."
Kirsten began squirming and struggling. "No! I demand—Mrrrpfh!" The wadded panties she'd worn all day at the office and in court, then suffered the indignity of having them stuffed into her mouth by "ninjas", were back in her mouth, and Kitty had her right hand tightly clamped over said mouth to keep them there. "Mrrrrrrrf!"
Meanwhile, Bertie had kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and was settling her weight atop Kirsten's lower tummy, her legs spread and knees tucked against the wiggling lawyer's hips. This was only possible with Bertie's skirt hiked up about as far as it could go, giving Nikki an excellent view of Bertie's legs (and a generous peek at her panties-clad crotch). Bertie smiled, her eyes locked with Kirsten's, and flexed her fingers... then leaned forward and began tickling Kirsten's ribs!
"Mrrrrrf!" Kirsten bucked and kicked, which did little to impede Bertie's dancing fingers but did impart rather interesting oscillations to the naked captive's breasts.
Kitty found them interesting, meaning the oscillations.
"I thought you said she said the ninjas tickled her feet," Nikki drawled. She was suppressing a smile, but with limited success. There was absolutely nothing erotic about her naked, bound, and hand-gagged sister being tickle-tortured, of course, but it was amusing. In fact, it was downright hilarious.
"This is warmup," Kitty explained.
"Warmup," Bertie agreed. "I'll get to her feet."
"M'mmrrrm." Kirsten continued reacting to Bertie's interrogation, albeit in a rather inarticulate manner.
"Well..." Nikki stood and nonchalantly strolled towards the bedroom door. "Anyone want a beer?"
"Mrrrrrf!" Kirsten's struggles intensified, but were still contained by Kitty's strong hands and the weight of Bertie's petite body.
"Maybe later," Kitty purred.
"There's an open bottle of wine next to the fridge," Bertie called over her shoulder.
"I'm in a beer mood," Nikki said, and was gone.
Back in the bedroom, the "warmup" continued.
|A STUDY IN Cute|| Chapter 3
Nikki returned to her big sister's bedroom with a cold bottle of Blue Moon Belgian White and settled back into the easy chair. Bertie was still tickling Kirsten's ribs, Kitty was still making sure the panties remained in Kirsten's mouth, and Kirsten was still conducting a vigorous strength test of the handcuffs binding her wrists, her Hello Kitty duct-tape bonds, and the pink cable-tie vripped around her big toes. Bertie and Kitty were easily up to the task of controlling Kirsten's naked, bound, hand-gagged, and writhing body, but unfortunately, Kirsten was not up to the task of breaking her bonds and putting an end to her ordeal.
"I still don't understand why you and your sister drink that swill," Kitty huffed, staring at the bottle in Nikki's hand. "I like real beer. Something with body."
Nikki smiled and took a swig of the "swill" in question.
"Would you like to give the prisoner an opportunity to confess before I shift my attention to her feet?" Bertie asked her partner.
Kirsten continued squirming, her eyes locked with Kitty's as Bertie continued tickling her ribs.
"I don't see why," Kitty said finally, smiling down at Shyster's desperate face. "She'll only lie."
Bertie reversed position and moved closer to Kirsten's feet and the foot of the bed. She was now kneeling atop Kirsten's lower thighs and knees. The captive lawyer's toe-bound, ankle-taped, and flexing feet were within easy reach.
Bertie smiled at Nikki, then turned the full attention of her wiggling fingers to the soles of Kirsten's feet.
Kirsten squirmed and tried her best to kick. Bertie's fingers wiggled, Kitty smiled, and Nikki sipped her beer. The horrific, torturous ordeal continued for a very long time—nearly two minutes! Then, Bertie looked back over her shoulder at her partner.
"What?" Kitty demanded. "She's barely sweating."
"Kitty!" Bertie admonished her partner with a wry, dimpled smile. Despite her apparent disapproval, her fingers continued dancing over the soles of Kirsten's feet.
"Oh, very well," Kitty sighed, then lifted her hand and plucked the panties from Kirsten's mouth.
"They weren't ninjas! They weren't ninjas!" Kirsten shouted. "Stop! Stop!"
Bertie stopped tickling Kirsten's feet, then flipped position and scooted forward until once again she was sitting on Kirsten's lower tummy.
"Get off me," Kirsten complained, glaring at the smiling Brit.
"She doesn't weight much," Kitty noted. "Now, talk."
"It was your sister," Kirsten said, "and her little friend."
"What little friend?" Kitty growled.
"Robin, her little friend," Kirsten sighed. "Robin. You don't know her?"
Kitty shook her head.
"She's a petite thing," Kirsten continued. "Short. Shorter than Bertie, with brown hair and eyes. Young, really young. And cute."
Kitty stared into Kirsten's blue eyes for several seconds... then shifted her gaze to Bertie. "Have you noticed somebody like that on the streets recently? Following you around?"
Bertie frowned. "Following me? No. I don't think so."
"She wants a job," Kirsten added staring up at Kitty. "She said she wants to work for you. She admires Kitty Wynter... for some reason."
"Tell me everything," Kitty muttered.
Over the course of the next several minutes Kirsten did just that, sparing no detail of Tabby-and-the-teenager's recent visit (except the part about Tabby repeatedly manhandling her boobs).
Kitty asked a few questions, but mainly she listened.
Her story told, Kirsten looked from face to face. All three detectives (two private and one NYPD) stared into the distance, obviously deep in thought. Kirsten let this continue for several seconds... then squirmed on the bed, doing her best to buck Bertie off her tummy (and failing). "Get off me!" she demanded, frowning at the smiling Brit.
Bertie giggled and did just that, clamoring off Kirsten and the bed and straightening her skirt.
Kitty dumped Kirsten's head and shoulders off her lap and also stood.
"Okay, here's the plan," Kitty announced. "I'm going to talk to a few people."
"Street contacts?" Nikki inquired, then took a swig of beer.
Kitty nodded. "You guys stay here. If they come back, make sure they stay. Be persuasive, and give me a call."
"Why should they come back?" Bertie asked.
"This supposedly job-hunting little twerp seems to think she can get to me by messing with my friends," Kitty purred. "You're my friends."
Bertie smiled her dimpled smile. Nikki smiled and took another sip of Blue Moon. Kirsten rolled her eyes.
Kitty spun on her heel and headed for the living room. "And Tabby might come back for another opportunity to play with the Shyster's tits."
Kirsten gasped. "How do you know she—? I mean. Let me go!"
"She's a Wynter," Kitty said as she left the bedroom. "Keep her safe!"
"We shall," Bertie giggled, smiling at Kirsten.
Kirsten did not giggle. She did, however, squirm, kick, and tug on her bonds. "Oh! Dammit! Let me go!"
"You aren't going with her?" Nikki asked Bertie.
Bertie smiled (shyly). "No, I'm staying here," she answered, then strolled to Nikki's easy chair, settled into the smiling detective's lap, and they embraced and kissed.
Still naked and bound on the bed, Kirsten stared in disbelief as Bertie and her little sister began making out. "Let. Me. Go."
Bertie's eyes widened and she pulled back. "Excuse me a moment, darling."
"Certainly," Nikki said with a smile.
"Oh, Kitty!" she called back over her shoulder. Her only answer was the distant sound of the front door closing. Bertie sighed and turned back to Nikki.
"What?" Nikki chuckled.
"The handcuff key," Bertie sighed.
"Kitty has it?" Nikki asked.
Bertie nodded. "In her pocket."
"Pity," Nikki stated, and the face-sucking continued.
Kirsten continued staring in disbelief as her little sister and the adorable Muffin swapped saliva, then sighed and flopped down to relax on the bed as best she could. It was infuriating. Everything was infuriating.
|A STUDY IN Cute|| Chapter 3
Instead of using the front door, Kitty exited the building using the back door used by the building supervisor for deliveries and wheeling dumpsters full of the tenants' trash into the alley for collection. Kitty carefully scanned the alley and the surrounding buildings... then made a slow circuit of the block, continuing her scan.
Kitty was a big believer in Occam's Razor, the idea that when choosing between competing explanations, simple is usually better than complicated. Given a choice between some previously unknown youngster playing a prank to get her attention and some Criminal Mastermind using said youngster playing said prank as the opening move in an elaborate game of three-dimensional chess designed to take down Kitty Wynter, her money was on the former. She'd remain alert for evidence of the latter, but sometimes a banana is just a banana. And a teenager and your little sister kidnapping one of your friends is just a teenager and your little sister kidnapping one of your friends.
And speaking of evidence, other than a quick glimpse and a semi-useful description of the prankster in question, Kitty had nothing substantial to work with other than Shyster telling her the youngster's name was "Robin Fey."
Robin, Kitty thought. A common enough name, and it fits the mop-headed cutie I saw earlier.
Fey. Also a common name. Common-ish, anyway. The word itself meant exaggerated or affected. Also, magical or fairylike.
Kitty enlarged the scope of her seemingly random stroll around the neighborhood, continuing to scan for skulking pranksters and wayward sisters.
Robin Fey, Kitty mused as she walked. Robin Magic. Maybe the teenager, whatever her real name, is a Shakespeare scholar. Robin Goodfellow. Puck. Puck the trickster. Puck the sprite. Puck the mischievous fairy. Kitty heaved a sigh. Maybe the name was fake, or maybe somebody somewhere would recognize the name and she'd have a lead. She wouldn't know if she didn't ask.
Kitty finally satisfied herself that neither "Robin Fey" nor Tabby were lying in wait or trying to tail her. She wasn't going to be able to turn the tables and get this farce over with any time soon. Kitty was going to have to solve The Mystery of the Teenage Trickster the hard way, starting with good-old-fashioned-legwork. She shifted from extra-vigilant-surveillance mode to normal-surveillance mode and headed off in a purposeful stride to find one of her contacts.
|A STUDY IN Cute|| Chapter 3
Meanwhile, back in Kirsten's apartment, the naked ADA was finally making headway in her quest to have Bertie Finch and her infuriating dweeb of a little sister release her from her bondage. Actually, all Nikki did was smile and nurse her beer. Bertie was doing all the work.
Muffin was back on the bed and was using a compact pair of bandage scissors to snip her way through Kirsten's bonds—the ones that weren't made of steel, anyway. First, she severed the pink plastic cable-tie binding Kirsten's big toes together. Next, one-by-one, she snipped through the tight, multi-layered bands of Hello Kitty duct-tape binding Kirsten's legs together below her knees... then above her knees. Next, she severed the band pinning Kirsten's forearms to her waist... and finally, the band pinning her upper arms to her torso and passing under her breasts.
It would have been perfectly feasible for Bertie to accomplish these tasks while sitting next to the prisoner-on-the-bed, but the impish little Brit had chosen to once again straddle Kirsten's squirming body and settle her minimal weigh atop her tummy. Only then did Bertie proceed to methodically attack Kirsten's pink plastic and pink Hello Kitty tape-bonds.
"Get off of me," Kirsten demanded.
Bertie had a counter demand. "Hold still."
Nikki watched the unfolding melodrama of her sister's limited release from the easy chair. She couldn't help but smile. Bertie-being-bad was quite an entertaining floor show. As for Kirsten-the-frustrated-prisoner? Not nearly so much. Kirsten was her sister.
Bertie finished severing and peeling the last of the duct-tape from Kirsten's body, then leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on Kirsten's full, frowning lips.
"Stop it," Kirsten huffed. Bertie giggled and climbed off her body and the bed, then settled back into Nikki's lap and favored the smiling detective with a kiss. Disgusting, Kirsten silently fumed, then sat up in bed, crossed her legs in a half-lotus, and tugged on the steel "tower-style" handcuffs still imprisoning her wrists behind her back. "Get these things off me!" she demanded.
"Sorry, Silly Goose," Bertie giggled, "that's impossible."
"Kitty has the key," Nikki reminded her naked, pouting sister. "Just move them to the front and you won't be so helpless. And stop whining. Show a little dignity."
"And how am I supposed to do that?" Kirsten huffed, continuing her pointless tugging on the cuffs.
"Do you mean the cuffs?" Nikki inquired, "or your dignity?"
Kirsten's response was a truly blistering stare.
"Bertie will show you," Nikki chuckled, then began undoing the buttons of Bertie's blouse.
"Darling!" Bertie objected, squirming and giggling as Nikki continued divesting her of her top.
"You've been a very naughty gumshoe," Nikki purred as she reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped Bertie's skirt. "The least you can do is demonstrate how to handle handcuffs for my sister."
"No!" Bertie giggled, wiggling and squirming atop Nikki's lap. Oddly, despite being in excellent physical shape and trained in various martial arts, she appeared unable to prevent Nikki from forcibly removing her outer clothing. The same went for her bra and panties. And now, like Kirsten, Bertie Finch was as naked as a jaybird... or a finch.
Nikki flipped the squirmy little Brit over onto her stomach, produced her Smith & Wesson Model 100 M&P Nickel handcuffs, and locked them on Bertie's wrists. She then eased Bertie off her lap and held her steady while she planted her bare feet.
Bertie scampered a few feet away, tugging on her cuffed wrists, then favored her friend-with-privileges with her most profound Wounded Pout and shook her head, straightening (unnecessarily) her blond, pixie-cut hair. The blush coloring her cheeks made her freckles stand out more than usual. Her pale, perky breasts were on open display, as were her flat tummy and dark-blond, neatly trimmed pubic bush. "Meanie," she sighed, then coyly bit her lower lip.
Cute, Nikki thought, gazing at her naked, diminutive, sometimes lover. So. Very. Cute. Nikki's pussy agreed. It was practically purring in agreement.
Kirsten also thought a naked and handcuffed Bertie Finch was cute, but managed to muster the appropriate response. "What is wrong with you two idiots?" she demanded, glowering at both her smiling sister and her naked, blond, and handcuffed confederate.
Nikki shifted her smile from the naked Bertie (with difficulty) to her naked sister. "Bertie will now demonstrate the correct method for shifting handcuffs from behind the back to the front."
"I will?" Bertie inquired.
"You will," Nikki confirmed, then shifted her smile back to Kirsten. "Pay close attention."
Kirsten blinked in surprise. What's she gonna do?
Bertie heaved another adorable sigh, then sat on the carpet, lay on her back and handcuffed arms, lifted her butt off the floor, and slid her wrists (and the accompanying bracelets) past her hips. She then folded her legs, passed her feet between the cuffs, and stood. Her cuffed hands were now in front, as Nikki had promised.
"And you felt the need to strip her naked before doing that because?" Kirsten inquired dryly.
Nikki shrugged. "Clothes might have gotten in the way." She smiled at Bertie. "C'mere," she ordered, beckoning with a crooked finger.
Bertie (visibly struggling to disguise a dimpled smile) padded back to the easy chair and returned to Nikki's lap. They kissed... and they kept kissing.
Kirsten heaved another sigh, tugged on her cuffs, and watched. It was... infuriating... and not at all adorable... or cute... and certainly not entertaining.
Nikki came up for air and focused on her big sister. "Well. Get on with it." She then returned to kissing Bertie, who enthusiastically reciprocated.
Kirsten climbed off the bed, strolled to the middle of the bedroom, and sank to the floor. Being in excellent physical condition, like Bertie, she was able to complete Bertie's back-to-front maneuver without any difficult. She had to admit being naked probably did expedite the process, but wasn't about to say so. Her hands now cuffed together in front, Kirsten watched as Nikki and the naked and similarly cuffed Bertie continued sucking face. "Well," she said after several seconds.
Nikki eased Bertie off her lap.
"Hey!" Bertie complained, then watched as Nikki climbed to her feet, took hold of the steel links connecting Kirsten's cuffs, and led her from the bedroom. Bertie smiled and padded in their wake.
Nikki's destination was her sister's kitchen. Bertie watched as Nikki took a hunter-green cook's apron hanging from a hook near the refrigerator, passed it between Kirsten's cuffed arms and her naked body, dropped the loop of its spaghetti-thin halter-strap over her head, then tied the waist straps at the small of Kirsten's back, snugging them tight and securing the thin laces with a double-bow.
"What is this for?" Kirsten demanded. The apron did an adequate job of covering her front and restoring some degree of modesty (although she could tell she was showing significant side-boob), but did nothing to shield her naked butt from the casual observer. Also, the drooping ends of the bow tickled said butt. Not like Bertie's fingers had tickled her ribs and feet, but Kirsten knew they were there.
"Have any bacon?" Nikki asked.
Kirsten tugged on her cuffs. "What? Yes. A new package."
"Good," Nikki responded. "Cook it all. I'm in the mood for a BLT." She shifted her smile to Bertie. "You in the mood for a BLT?"
Bertie tugged on her own cuffs, Nikki's police cuffs. "I could eat."
Nikki turned back to her big sister. "You know how I like 'em: too much bacon and lots of mayonnaise. I assume you've got everything else you need?"
"Well, yes, but..." Kirsten held up her cuffed hands.
"Good," Nikki responded, turned and headed for the bedroom. She draped an arm over Bertie's shoulders as she passed and took the giggling little Brit with her.
Bertie looked back at the dumbfounded Kirsten over her shoulder and winked.
"Let us know when dinner's ready," Nikki added from the bedroom doorway. "And be sure and knock before entering."
Kirsten heard Bertie giggle again as the bedroom door closed with a thud. She stared at the closed portal for several seconds... then turned and opened the refrigerator. I wonder if I can get a job as a prosecutor in Chicago or LA? she considered. Or maybe Seattle. Boston is too close.
|The End of...|
|A STUDY IN Cute|| Chapter 3