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FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY WYNTER | |||
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| by Van ©2018 | ||||
| Chapter 5 |
| DRAMATIS PERSONÆ |
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OUR STORY CONTINUES |
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Robin's heart was still tripping, and at some point she realized her lower lip had started trembling. Naked, her thumbs, elbows, and wrists bound behind her back with plastic cable-ties and plasti-cuffs, she'd been dragged by her idol and captor, Kitty Wynter, through the secret door between the Wynter sisters' walk-in closets, through the bedroom Kitty shared with Bertie, and into what was obviously Kitty and Bertie's home gym (and playroom).
It was an expansive space with a ten-foot ceiling and hardwood floors. Rolled exercise mats were propped on end and tucked into two corners, a wheeled ladder-platform was pushed into a third corner, and a forlorn, duct-tape patched punching bag dangled from a vertical chain in the fourth. The wall facing the street was mostly windows covered by Venetian blinds lowered and adjusted for maximum privacy; however, being familiar with the major details of Kitty and Bertie's digs, Robin knew the blinds were superfluous. The windows themselves were covered with one-way reflective film. No one in the building opposite would be able to see into the gym, even if the blinds were rolled all the way up. Wooden cabinets stood against the solid walls and doors led to the rest of the Wynter & Finch condo/office complex.
"Subtle" details made the gym's playroom status clear to the discerning observer (like Robin Fey). Specifically, steel pad-eyes and ring-bolts were set in the ceiling and walls. Robin had no direct knowledge, but it was a safe bet that one or more of the cabinets held the pulleys, rings, carabiners, and other hardware required to rig any of a near infinite variety of suspended or semi-suspended bondage predicaments. And it was a sure bet that other cabinets held the required coils of rope, as well as reels of cord, piles of chain, spools of wire, rolls of tape, bundles of cable-ties, etc., etc. However, Robin didn't believe there were a lot of elaborate binders, harnesses, or other bondage gear, other than gags. Gags were a safe bet, and maybe a few hoods, but Kitty wasn't known for being into leather and latex.
So... absolutely nothing for Robin to be worried about... NOT!
Kitty led (meaning dragged) Robin to the middle of the room and spun her around. Robin stared straight ahead as Kitty removed her plastic bonds. Her captor was probably using a folding knife or some sort of multi-tool with clippers, but Robin couldn't be sure. By the time she was free and turned back around, Kitty had folded whatever she'd used and was returning it to her jeans pocket.
Robin managed a smile as she rubbed her wrists. "Kitty, I—"
"Shut it," Kitty growled. "Stay," she ordered, then spun on her booted heel and stomped to one of the cabinets.
Robin looked around, apprehensively. She supposed she could try and make a run for it, but her clothes were back in Tabby's apartment. Also, while Robin was quick on her feet, she doubted she was quicker than Kitty Wynter, and she certainly wasn't quick enough to negotiate the locks securing Kitty's front door before she was grabbed from behind and dragged back to the, uh, gym.
Meanwhile, Kitty had returned from the cabinet with a very generous coil of conditioned, natural fiber rope. Three strand hemp, Robin thought as she watched Kitty release the coil, double it, and begin the process of finding its center—standard preparation for bondage.
"Hands," Kitty ordered.
Robin lifted her hands and watched as Kitty tightened loop after loop of doubled rope around and between her wrists, then formed a complex hitch and began pulling the very, very long free ends through the hitch.
"Basic double column tie," Robin noted aloud. Some cooperation was required on Robin's part in the form of positioning her forearms and hands for the proper execution of the technique, to prevent nerve damage and insure good circulation, and Robin did so as soon as she realized what Kitty was doing. The rope continued slithering and tightening. Robin noted that Kitty hadn't scolded her for speaking. She supposed that was progress... of sorts.
Kitty wheeled over the rolling ladder, climbed up high enough to thread the very long free ends of Robin's wrist bonds through a ring-bolt in the ceiling, then returned the ladder to its proper corner.
Robin watched as, free ends in hand, Kitty stepped to the side and threaded them through a ring-bolt between two cabinets set in the wall at waist level. She removed the slack, pulling Robin's hands skyward and raising her arms over her head. The glowering detective pulled out more slack, and Robin was forced up onto her toes!
Kitty glared at the naked, bound youngster, then played out a couple of inches of rope until Robin was almost on tiptoe... then tied a series of knots. Mercy on Kitty's part? Maybe.
Robin bit her lower lip as Kitty returned to the rope cabinet, produced a second, much shorter coil of the same hemp rope, then strolled in her direction. Robin's double-hot future employer and mentor knelt at her bare feet and bound her ankles together, wrapping doubled rope around and between both feet.
Kitty tied a complex knot, stood, took a step back, crossed her arms under her breasts, and glared at her captive.
Robin swallowed nervously, dropped her chin and gazed down at her bound feet, wiggled her toes, then lifted her gaze to Kitty. "Another basic double column tie," she observed, then bit her lower lip, again.
And then, something unexpected and remarkable happened: Robin thought she might have detected the ghost of a smile curl Kitty's lips before The Great Detective spun on her booted heel and stomped to another cabinet. Kitty smiling? That was a good thing, a very good thing! "Gulp!" However, Kitty was returning from the cabinet with a ball-gag in one hand and a roll of Elastoplast tape and a pair of bandage scissors in the other... which was not a good thing.
Her heart pounding (not that it had ever stopped pounding) Robin considered famous last words that might favorably influence her immediate future—but then it was too late. Kitty had stepped behind her, reached around her head, and popped the gag's red silicon-rubber sphere in her mouth. And now Kitty was threading and securing the strap's buckle at the nape of her neck. There was a brief pause... then Kitty's hands appeared to either side of her ball-gagged head, and stretched between her fingers and thumbs was a wide strip of milky-white Elastoplast tape. Kitty pressed the strip home against Robin's ball-gagged mouth, smoothed it with her fingers, then returned the roll of tape and scissors to the cabinet.
Robin could tell her rope bonds were not only stringent (or seriously semi-stringent) but inescapable. After all, they'd been tied by Kitty Wynter. As for her compound ball and tape-gag, the ball-gag filled her mouth to near capacity and was tight enough to cause her cheeks to bulge, and the smooth, tightly-adhered tape sealed her ball-gagged lips and covered her entire lower face. Yes, Kitty Wynter was good at this stuff... but Robin already knew that.
Kitty glowered at her naked, bound, and gagged mini-captive for several seconds... then spun on her heel (again) and stomped from the gym/playroom, apparently headed for her office. As she crossed the threshold, Robin watched Kitty pull out her phone and begin placing a call. Then, the door closed and Robin was alone.
Obviously, Kitty had decided her "house guest" needed time to stew in her juices and contemplate her looming and doubtlessly dire fate. This also gave Robin an opportunity to bring her brilliant intellect to bear in order to revise her "genius plan" and salvage the situation. Could Robin think of a way to get into Kitty's good graces and convince her to take on a ambitious, supremely talented, and obviously gifted young lady as her apprentice?
Robin went up on her toes, tugged on her bound wrists, then settled back down on the soles of her bound feet. Yeah, she thought. Maybe I'll sweet talk Kitty into accepting me... and maybe I'll suddenly figure out how to telepathically untie fancy knots... or maybe I'll just hang here like a side of beef until Kitty decides how she wants to dispose of the body. She wasn't serious about thinking Kitty might do her harm. Not in a million years! But she was hanging like a side of beef... sort of.
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 5 |
Kirsten Braslow strolled down the Manhattan sidewalk in a nonchalant manner... meaning she avoided eye contact with passing strangers and tried not to blush and scowl. She was wearing a British-tan, cape-style raincoat with the cuffs of its empty sleeves tucked into its otherwise empty front pockets. The middle buttons were secured and her arms and cuffed hands were inside the coat. Her striding feet were clad in black leather knee-boots, and finally, Kirsten's former twin ponytails tied with pink ribbons were gone. Her long, flaxen tresses were now loose about her caped shoulders. Bertie was a close companion on her left and Little Sister on her right. Both were smiling like idiots.
The streetlights glared and the sky was dark—Thank God! Passersby might notice her fingers peeking through the coat and helping hold it closed, but wouldn't suspect she was naked underneath, or that her wrists were cuffed together in front.
"How are you doing, darling?" Bertie inquired.
"I'm never speaking to you again," Kirsten muttered in response.
"How 'bout me?" Nikki chuckled.
Kirsten stared straight ahead and ignored her little sister. It was infuriating. Back at her apartment they'd dragged her into her closet to select footwear, and despite her objections, had settled on her seldom-worn knee-boots. As for clothing? They dragged her back out of the closet and the bedroom, still naked! They could have helped her don panties and a skirt. They could have helped her don a strapless bra and a halter top. (She was sure she had a halter top in the back of one of the drawers.) But nooooo! The giggling little Brit and her brat sister selected her cape-style raincoat from the coat closet near the entryway, draped it over her shoulders, and buttoned it up. Not all the way up, of course, nor all the way down. Just in the middle. Buttoning the coat completely would have made her feel safe, would have eliminated the possibility of her showing inappropriate cleavage on the street if the coat pulled open at the top, or exposing herself if it gaped down below). They only secured enough buttons to insure minimal security and modesty. It was infuriating!
Thankfully (so far), no one they'd encountered had given any indication they'd noticed there was a booted blonde with her hands cuffed together and wearing only a raincoat loose in Manhattan.
Infuriating!
They finally arrived at Kitty and Bertie's building. Bertie let them into the lobby and they strolled to the front door of Wynter & Finch Investigative Services. They were off the street, so Kirsten stopped disguising her anger and disdain at the way she was being treated. It wasn't funny! Okay, objectively it was hilarious, and she knew Bertie and her sister wouldn't have let anything scandalous happen during the journey, but that didn't mean she had to like it... and she didn't.
Bertie unlocked the door—and Kirsten breezed past the little Brit and inside, her full lips curled in a sneering scowl and her blue eyes flashing with anger.
Kitty Wynter was approaching down the hallway, her lips curled in a knowing smile. "The little twerp's in the playroom," Kitty announced, "but first, make yourselves comfortable."
Kirsten glowered at Kitty, then—"What? No!"—squirmed and desperately clutched at the coat as Bertie unbuttoned said coat and Nikki pulled it from her shoulders. She tried maintaining her grip with her cuffed hands, but failed. She blushed, scowled, stomped her booted feet, and watched as Nikki hung the cape-coat from a hook, then removed her own jacket and hung it up as well. Bertie also removed her coat. Kirsten turned back to face Kitty and tugged on her cuffs in frustration. She was now nude, of course, except for her knee-boots.
Kitty looked Kirsten up and down... from her scowling, blushing, gorgeous face... to her full breasts... flat stomach... dark-blond pubic bush (until Kirsten realized what Kitty was staring at and shielded her crotch with her cuffed hands)... her strong thighs and hips... cute knees... and her gleaming black boots. Poor Shyster, Kitty thought, she's mortified. I'll have to make her feel better... once we deal with Robin Fey.
Kitty turned and headed for the playroom. Bertie took Kirsten by the arm and led her in Kitty's wake. Nikki brought up the rear (and ignored her sister's rear).
Robin's eyes popped wide as Kitty, Bertie, Nikki, and Kirsten entered the playroom. The moment of truth had arrived! Or the next moment of truth. Anyway, Kitty's posse was here, and something was gonna happen.
Bertie walked a slow circuit around Robin's naked, arms-over-head, wrist-bound, ankle-bound, and tape- and ball-gagged body... then focused on her partner. "She's adorable, but are you absolutely sure she's not a minor?"
"As sure as I can be," Kitty growled. "I'll grant you she has tiny little titties."
"Kitty!" Bertie admonished her partner. "Don't be unkind."
Kitty shrugged. "Anyway, It would seem you and I are the only people in this part of the city who don't know Robin Fey and haven't been watching her escapades."
Robin blushed. Her arms were tied above her head and she was in full stretch. Of course my titties were tiny, she fumed. Everybody's titties are tiny when they're stretched. She gazed at Kirsten, Well, almost everybody. Anyway, Kitty was being rude.
"So," Nikki chuckled, "your street contracts knew all about her?"
Kitty stared daggers at the captive Robin. "A few of them have known her for years, but once she started following me around and blabbing to anyone that would listen about the absolute certainty that she was gonna become my apprentice? They all know her, now."
"But didn't feel the need to tell you?" Nikki observed.
"I'm sure they all agreed the situation was harmless," Bertie sighed, "as well as humorous."
"I know I can't stop laughing," Nikki chuckled.
Kitty favored the NYPD Detective with the same scathing disdain she'd previously reserved for the bound, gagged, naked, moppet-haired, kidnapping munchkin on display before them.
Kirsten faced Kitty and rattled her cuffs. "Find the key to these cuffs and get the damn things off me!" she demanded.
"Oh Shyster," Kitty chuckled, "such language." She reached into her jeans pocket, produced the key, then unlocked and removed Kirsten's cuffs.
Kirsten rubbed her wrists (even thought they weren't in the least bit red), then shifted her pouting gaze to Robin. "She said they were a gift," Kirsten huffed, "for you."
Kitty examined the cuffs. "Nice." She shifted her scowl to Robin. "Do you know the provenance?"
Robin nodded.
"Good," Kitty purred, returning to her examination. "You can tell me all about it... if I ever remove your gag."
Bertie giggled, Nikki smiled, Kirsten continued scowling and rubbing her wrists, and Robin continued trying not to worry.
Kitty spun on her heel and headed for her office.
Bertie and the Braslow sisters stared at Kitty's back, shifted their gaze to Robin, then back to Kitty.
"What are we going to do with her?" Bertie demanded as she hurried after her partner.
"And where's your sister?" Nikki inquired, and trooped after Bertie. She was referring to Tabby, of course.
Kirsten glared at Robin, then hurried after the others. "I demand some clothing!" she huffed as she closed the playroom door behind her.
And once again... Robin was alone... naked, bound, and gagged... and apparently no closer to being hired by Wynter & Finch Investigative Services than before. 'Tiny little titties', she fumed. That was... rude. Descriptive... but rude.
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 5 |
Sometime later Bertie went through the secret door into Tabby's walk-in closet, then on into Tabby's bedroom. She tiptoed to the bed... and smiled. Oh-by-the-way, Bertie's costume was reduced to bra and panties.
Tabby was fast asleep, still naked, spreadeagled, and gagged with a rubber bit-gag over panties stuffing. All the bedroom lights were off except for a pair of dimly glowing LED nightlights near the floor on either side of the headboard.
Bertie knelt and quickly, deftly untied the rope attaching Tabby's left wrist to the bed frame... shuffled to the foot of the bed and released the end of Tabby's left ankle rope, then padded to the right side of the bed and released the remaining two ropes. She then climbed onto the bed, reached behind Tabby's head, unbuckled the bit-gag, then gently plucked the panties from Tabby's mouth.
Tabby worked her jaw, licked her lips, and tugged on her bonds. The ropes slithered across the mattress in response. Her wrists and ankles remained bound, but the long free ends of all four ropes were no longer attached to the bed frame. "Bertie," she sighed with a dimpled smile.
Bertie smiled back and planted a kiss on Tabby's lips. "I tried not to wake you, darling. Sorry."
"Couldn't be helped," Tabby said, then pulled Bertie into a rope-bound embrace and returned the kiss.
"Would you like me to fix you some supper?" Bertie inquired when they came up for air.
Tabby squeezed Bertie's giggling, squirming body before answering. "I'll make it to breakfast," she sighed. "I really am jet lagged, and letting myself get dragged into following Robin around the city didn't help." She focused on Bertie's smiling face. "And speaking of Robin... what's happening?"
Bertie rested her head against Tabby's right breast. "Well, let's see now." She planted a kiss on Tabby's right nipple. "The Braslow sisters are spending the night. Nikki is sleeping on the couch in our living room and Kirsten in Kitty's bed."
"Why aren't you snuggling with Nikki?" Tabby purred, "instead of disturbing my sleep."
"Maybe I'll disturb her later," Bertie giggled.
"And the little twerp?" Tabby purred.
"Robin is sleeping at the foot of Kitty's bed," Bertie explained.
"With Kitty and Kirsten rolling around on the bed?" Tabby chuckled. "I bet that isn't awkward."
"Shyster is mortified," Bertie giggled. "Kirsten Braslow does mortified so very well. I think that's why Kitty likes her so much."
"That and her tits," Tabby purred. "So... that gets everybody through the night. What about tomorrow?"
"Kitty made a phone call," Bertie sighed. "I don't know who she talked to or what was decided, but she claims she has everything under control."
"Yeah, sure," Tabby chuckled. "Kitty always has everything under control, until it blows up in her face."
"We'll see," Bertie sighed, then tightened her embrace. "Exactly how jet-lagged are you, darling?" she inquired. The little Brit squirmed as she reached behind her back to release the clasp of her bra... then realized Tabby had stopped moving. "Tabby?"
Bertie heaved a sigh. Tabby was asleep. Apparently Kitty's little sister was, indeed, jet-lagged. Bertie sighed and closed her eyes. She decided to take a brief nap, giving Tabby's slumber a chance to deepen... then she'd carefully slither off the bed, creep through the Magic Mirror and back to her apartment, slink through the bedroom to the living room, and join Nikki on the couch. That was her cunning plan, anyway.
And who knows. Maybe she'd manage to wake up before dawn to carry out said plan. Or maybe not.
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 5 |
Robin slowly, carefully reached down and ran her fingers over the wide, thick, stainless steel cuff locked around her right ankle. It was medieval-style, and 'locked' wasn't the right word, she decided. Securing the thing hadn't involved a lock and key, but a compact, wand-style electric driver and a two-inch machine screw. The driver whirred, the screw disappeared into a flush-mounted fitting in the rim of the cuff, and Robin had herself a new accessory.
The cuff itself was attached to a long chain, something like ten or twelve feet, and the chain's far end was padlocked to a hefty eye-bolt set under the base of the frame of Kitty and Bertie's bed. The padlock was a 4-pin, discus-style, Master, one of the "40" series. Even with the use of her lock picks, Robin wasn't entirely confident she could open the damn thing.
Robin gave the ankle-cuff a halfhearted tug. At least the interior is polished and all the edges rounded, she sighed, and the damn thing fits.
The naked, fettered youngster was in Kitty's bedroom, curled up on the thick carpet, and trying her best to relax and get some sleep. Back in the playroom, Kitty had untied her, removed her gag, dragged her to the master bath, and ordered her to wash her face, tinkle, and brush her teeth. (Apparently, Kitty was a big believer in dental hygiene. Who knew?) Kitty then dragged her into the bedroom, plunked her down on the floor, clamped the cuff closed around her ankle, and secured it with the long screw.
So... I'm spending the night, Robin thought. She didn't said it aloud, of course. Kitty had already made it crystal clear that under no circumstances was Robin to rattle her chain, and above all else, she was to keep her stupid little mouth shut! Otherwise, a ton of "or else" would immediately fall on her head.
As for what was going to happen in the morning, Kitty was unwilling to share, and Robin couldn't very well pester her for answers and keep quiet.
And then... Kitty abandoned her. She just turned and left the bedroom.
Robin considered climbing onto the bed, but seriously doubted Kitty expected to find her snuggling between the sheets when she returned. So... she sighed, curled onto her side, and tried to take a nap. The problem was... Robin was upset—meaning terrified, elated, quaking with fear, and shivering with arousal. In a word: conflicted. Why? She was in Kitty Wynter's bedroom! She was Kitty's naked prisoner! Bertie had been nice to her! Her genius plan was in a complete shambles—and had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams—and might turn into her worst nightmare in the morning!
Take a nap, Robin mused. Yeah, that's gonna happen.
And then, the topic of unlikely naps was rendered temporarily moot. The bedroom door opened and Bertie appeared, carrying a duvet, blanket, and pillow. The smiling Brit dropped them on the floor near Robin's pouting head, leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of her head, then scampered away, closing the door behind her.
I should have thanked her, Robin thought, then sat up, partially unfolded the duvet and arranged it into a pallet. Covering herself with the blanket and settling her head on the pillow, Robin went back to trying, and failing, to sleep. She closed her eyes, tried her best to ignore her churning emotions, several minutes passed, and then...
The door opened, Robin lifted her head from the pillow, and watched as Kitty dragged Kirsten into the bedroom. Both were naked, mostly. Actually, Kitty was naked. Kirsten, however, was wearing her black leather knee-boots and several yards of Kitty's best hemp rope. The indignant lawyer's arms were folded behind her back with her wrists crossed and lashed to an armpit-yoking upper-body harness, just below her shoulder blades.
Kimono-tie, Robin noted. Even in the dim light she could work out the relevant details of Shyster's predicament.
"Let. Me. Go!" Kirsten huffed in a quiet voice. She was trying to backpedal, but Kitty had a firm grip on the harness ropes, just above and between her bobbing breasts.
"Quiet," Kitty chuckled. "You'll wake up your kidnapper... meaning your other kidnapper... the little one."
"No!" Kirsten whined.
Robin's perspective from the floor was hardly ideal, but she was able to follow most of the basic action. Kitty had pulled Kirsten down onto the bed, then jumped on top of her.
"The boots are kinda hot," Kitty said quietly. "Do you wear them a lot in court? I bet they're a big hit."
"No!"
Robin smiled. It wasn't clear whether Kirsten's negative response had concerned the boots or was more general in nature.
And then, for the next several minutes... nobody said much of anything.. nothing articulate, anyway. There were a few wet sounds, possibly the sound of smacking lips and stifled gasps. Also, the mattress rocked and shook. There was no great mystery about what was happening... and was continuing to happen... and was happening some more.
Still smiling, Robin bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. Would she be able to get to sleep? Doubtful. Not likely.
Minutes later, there was a pause in the action on the bed. "What was that sound?" Kirsten whispered.
"I believe 'The Littlest Kidnapper' mumbled something in her sleep," Kitty drawled. "Do you want me to give her a spanking?"
"No, of course not," Kirsten huffed. Seconds passed. "What are you going to do with her?" Kirsten whispered.
"Not your problem, Shyster," Kitty purred.
The wet noises resumed.
| The End of... | ||
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 5 |