by Van ©2017
		Chapter 4

As it turned out, Marina had a surprisingly delicate touch.

The tall, amazonian Latina carried out her instructions to the letter.  First she wet down Bonnie's right armpit with a wet towelette, applied a modest coating of shave cream, then carefully and expertly shaved said pit with the safety razor.  She then repeated the process on Bonnie's left pit.  Not wanting to get herself nicked, Bonnie kept the squirming to an absolute minimum, but it was difficult.  Dr. Folke's assessment was accurate.  Bonnie was ticklish.  She considered it odd that she could shave her own armpits with total impunity, but when someone else did the deed... it tickled.  It tickled like crazy.  Go figure.

The same went for shaving Bonnie's legs, but to a lesser extent.  That is, it tickled as the razor glided along her skin, especially on her inner, upper thighs, but not as much as it had when Marina had shaved her pits.  Again, it was because someone else was wetting, lathering, and shaving her legs, and not Bonnie herself.  First her left leg was foamed, scraped, and rinsed... and then her right.

What happened next also tickled, and embarrassed her terribly.  Just being naked and spreadeagled was distressing enough, but when Marina picked up the electric razor, clicked it on, and slid its steel, comb-like head through her pubic bush, Bonnie thought she'd die from egregious mortification.  Also, it tickled!  Marina took her time, making several slow passes.  She paused to adjust the shave head to a slightly closer setting, then repeated the process!

Bonnie wiggled and shivered and tried to keep still, but it was nearly impossible.  She also giggled through the tape or plastic film or whatever sealed her lips.  This amounted to modulated humming and very unladylike chortling through her nose, all of which Marina seemed to find quite entertaining.

As a result of Marina's "ladyscaping," Bonnie's dark-blond bush was reduced to dark-blond ground-cover, or possibly a sparse lawn.  Her short-and-curlies were too naturally thin and feathery to become true stubble, so the result was decidedly girlish, as if her bush was just starting to grow in, rather than having just received a serious trim.  That, of course, wasn't embarrassing in the least!  Bonnie blushed and tugged on her bonds as Marina clicked off the razor and returned it to the cart.

Next came... The Moisturizing.

Bonnie watched as Marina pumped lotion onto her hands, rubbed them together, then turned and smiled.  Their eyes locked as Bonnie tugged on her bonds, yet again.  The expression on the muscular Latina's beautiful face wasn't as disturbing as it had seemed earlier.  Bonnie didn't know if familiarity (in the full sense) had anything to do with it, or if Marina's attitude had become less evil.  Or maybe it never has been evil, exactly, Bonnie decided.  She certainly didn't appreciate being arrested, stripped, and... involuntarily groomed, but Marina didn't meet her preconceptions of the stereotypical sadist... probably... she hoped.

And then, Marina put her hands to work, and very good hands they were.  Strong.  Gentle.  Skilled.  As Marina massaged Bonnie's torso, breasts, shoulders, tummy, arms, thighs, thighs, legs, and feet, Bonnie decided she'd pay good money for this sort of thing—assuming she could afford it—only without the bondage or her job being in jeopardy, of course.

And then, just when Bonnie glistened with berry-scented lotion from neck to toe, Marina pulled a fast one.  It turned out the restraints binding Bonnie's wrists and ankles could be released from their attachment points and reattached to other attachment points.  Before Bonnie realized what was happening, Marina had re-positioned her left wrist and ankle next to her right wrist and ankle—released her right ankle and wrist—flipped her onto her stomach—and reattached her right wrist and ankle to the table.  Bonnie was once again in a loose spread-eagle, only now she was face down.  She'd never been completely free during the switch, but that didn't keep her from metaphorically kicking herself for not having had her act together, erupting from the table in a flurry of flailing limbs, subduing Marina (Yeah, right.), and regaining her freedom.  Unlikely in the extreme?  Impossible, actually, but you can't blame a naked, half-moisturized, half-massaged girl for dreaming, can you?

Marina replenished her hands at the pump and proceeded to make Bonnie a naked, fully moisturized, and thoroughly massaged girl.

Despite her nervousness and resolve to somehow regain her liberty, Marina surprised Bonnie again when she released her left and right wrists, pulled her arms behind her back with irresistible but gentle force, and locked her wrists together with rubber-clad handcuffs.  Bonnie tugged on her new bonds as Marina released her ankle restraints.  Then, the Latina amazon lifted Bonnie into her arms like a baby, smiled, and carried her from the room and down the hallway.

Their destination was a nondescript door bearing an engraved plastic sign that read "INTERVIEW ROOM 9."  The door whisked open and Bonnie's eyes popped wide.  "Mrrrpfh?"  She'd been expecting to see either a pair of chairs facing each other across a simple table (the formal option) or possibly a pair of overstuffed easy chairs and a coffee table (the casual option).  Instead, she was staring at a single, decidedly ominous steel chair.  It was constructed of rectangular, heavy-duty steel stock with welded joints, and while at the moment it was a conventional straight chair with armrests, strategically positioned gears and sliding lever arms hinted at possible reconfigurations.  Oh-by-the-way, it had rubber-padded steel clamps on the armrests and near the floor, ideally situated to restrain a hypothetical occupant's wrists and ankles—and Bonnie had a very good idea that she was about to become that occupant.  "Nrrrf!"

"Quiet, chica," Marina chuckled, carried Bonnie to the chair, and, despite her struggles, plunked her naked butt on the cool steel of the unpadded seat, grabbed her right foot and closed the clamp around her ankle, then did the same with her left ankle.  She then released Bonnie's handcuffs and clamped her left and right wrists to their respective armrests.  Next, she swung a much larger, padded steel clamp around Bonnie's waist and another around her neck, further securing her in place.  Marina then adjusted the clamps—triggering a series of clicks—and Bonnie found herself very solidly bound to the chair.

The prisoner-of-the-chair squirmed and tugged on her implacable steel bonds, mewled through her sealed lips, and watched Marina stroll to a telephone mounted on the wall next to the open door.  The Latina lifted the wireless handset, punched a button, and held it to her ear.

"Ready in room nine, doctor," the Marina said, smiling as she gazed at Bonnie's struggling body and wide-eyed, gagged distress.  Seconds passed as she listened.  "Yes doctor, I understand."  She hung up the phone and strolled back to Bonnie.  "Unfortunately, the doctor will be busy for a while and I have to return to my other duties, so I'm afraid you'll have to be patient."

Marina continued past Bonnie and her unpadded, mildly uncomfortable chair and out of her steel-collar-limited field-of-vision.  "Mrrrf?"  She heard what she took to be the sound of a cabinet opening, seconds passed, then Marina stepped back into view with something in her hands.  It slid into a track mounted under the seat between Bonnie's splayed legs, and she realized it was a wand-style vibrator attached to some sort of steel bracket!  "NRRRF!"

Marina ignored Bonnie's squirming, mewling distress as she made adjustments to what might be called a "vibrator module."  It locked in place with its business end firmly pressed against Bonnie's pussy.  The wand's smooth, rounded head was designed to maximize contact with her mildly squashed labia and her most energetic attempts to wiggle away were totally ineffective.

"This will keep you entertained until the doctor is available," Marina purred, then turned and strolled towards the door.  She turned in the open threshold and smiled.  "Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Schnupp," she added, and the door whisked closed.

"Mrrrpghnrmf!"  The lights dimmed as Bonnie tugged on her bonds and struggled to escape the chair.  "Mrrrk!"  Then, she froze in place, her eyes wide.  The head of the vibrator was doing its thing!  It was vibrating!  Bonnie shivered in her bonds.  The vibration wasn't very intense, but it was definitely there.  It was also making an audible buzzing noise... and the buzzing and concomitant vibrations were modulated.   They grew stronger... then weaker... then stronger again.

Seconds passed... and became a minute... then two.

Bonnie became convinced the vibrator was not only modulating its stimulation, but was slowly increasing the net level of its effect.  That is, the graph of diddling over time was trending upwards!  Either that, or I'm getting more sensitive, she reasoned, or both!

As the relentless stimulation continued, Bonnie panted through her flaring nostrils and her breasts heaved—or at least bobbed, a little.  She could tell an orgasm was in her future, and she could do nothing to stop it!

She became aware of a motor noise somewhat deeper than the buzz between her legs and watched as a very large flat-screen television lowered from the ceiling and locked in place.  The screen flashed and Bonnie found herself gazing at her own image—her own naked-and-clamped-in-the-chair-with-a-vibrator-between-her-legs image.

Not having had access to a mirror or having passed any reflective surfaces since her capture/arrest by Xin-the-ninja, this was the first time Bonnie could actually see the tape or film covering her mouth.  The stuff was translucent, nearly transparent.  Her ruby-red lips were clearly visible.  It was well-adhered to the skin of her lower face but pliant enough for her lips to stand out in three-dimensional contour.  She already knew the stuff was more than up to the task of keeping her lips sealed.

So... now I get to watch myself get vibrated to orgasm.  Bonnie tugged on her bonds—and watched herself tug on her bonds.  Her skin still glistened from having been moisturized.  It was more of a glimmer, actually.  Marina had been very thorough while she worked the lotion into her skin.

Bonnie squirmed, shivered, and continued gazing at her squirming and shivering real-time video image.

The vibrator continued vibrating.

By the time Dominique decided she'd had enough "fun" with the flogger, Jade's skin was flushed an angry pink, front and back.  Her complexion was light enough for the countless fine stripes crisscrossing her rump, thighs, back, tummy, and breasts to be visible, but her tormentor hadn't broken any skin or left any serious marks, as far as she could tell.  Jade glistened with sweat, and her cheeks, flushed and bulging above the ball-gag tightly strapped in her mouth, were wet with angry tears.

Jade looked over her right shoulder and glared at Dominique as she returned the flogger to its cabinet and closed the door—Bitch!—then shifted her attention to her boss.  Audrey's cheeks were also tear-stained.  Leather-bound in what had to be an increasingly uncomfortable, nipple-clamp-enforced, cross-legged crunch, she gazed up at Jade's spreadeagled and well-flogged body with obvious concern.

Dominique strolled back into easy view for both captives, a smile on her flushed, slightly glowing face.  Apparently, flogging poor Jade's naked, helpless body had given her a bit of a workout—either that or she'd found the endeavor to be somewhat arousing—or both.  "Well," the executive bitch said as she stepped back into her high-heeled pumps, "that was stimulating."

"Mrrrrk!" both captives angrily "remarked."

"Such strength and stamina," Dominique chuckled.  "I can tell you're both going to be entertaining for a very long time, if I pace myself."  She focused on Audrey.  "And you've done a very poor job of disguising your affection and concern for poor, innocent Miss Porter.  Really, Audrey, don't you have any poker face?"

Audrey could only respond with a ball-gagged, glowering stare that could have curdled fresh milk.

Dominique turned her gloating smile to Jade.  "And as for you, young lady.  You have a body made for the whip.  We're going to have a lot of fun entertaining Ms. Klein, you and I.  And after I've decided I've punished your former boss enough for her treachery..."  She stepped forward, took a firm grip on Jade's sweaty, saliva-dripping chin with her right hand, and they locked eyes.  "You'll continue being my personal plaything.  I know you've done nothing to actually deserve such an unpleasant fate, but whoever said life was fair?"

A chill rippled down Jade's spine and settled into a cold lump in her stomach, but she managed to keep the fear from her eyes... or tried her best, anyway.

"Don't worry, darling," Dominique continued, "my Special Staff will make sure you're properly cared for.  Regular exercise, good nutrition, inescapable bondage—all the amenities.  I'm afraid I don't find the time to play with my toys as often as I'd like to; I have a very busy schedule.  But don't worry.  The various upper level nightclubs all require 'volunteers' for their nightly stage shows and private entertainment venues.  I know you'll find boredom to be the least of your problems."  She released her grip on Jade's chin and strolled towards the chamber door.  "Until later, Ms. Klein, Miss Porter."

The door whisked open; Dominique crossed the threshold; and the door whisked closed.  There was a brief pause... then the overhead lights winked out, plunging the chamber into total darkness.

Jade sighed through her ball-gag and settled in to wait for whatever would come next.  Needless to say, waiting was her only option.  She was undecided as to whether she should panic or lapse into the depths of total despair.  Physically, it wouldn't make much difference either way.

Bonnie had cum at least twice since being abandoned to the mechanical mercy of the Buzzing Throne of Erotic Doom.  The first orgasm happened something like six minutes after Marina left the room, and it had been involuntarily but "genuine," meaning it could be characterized as something vaguely resembling pleasure.  The second happened about fifteen minutes later, and was decidedly less... congenial.  The intermittently modulated buzzing had continued nonstop, and Bonnie's private parts had still been sensitive from the first orgasm.  The buzzing was still continuing.  Bonnie had no idea if or when a third orgasm might happen, but one thing was certain: she didn't want to play this game anymore!

Suddenly (finally!) the door whisked open (in its usual Star Trekky fashion) and Dr. Folke strolled into the chamber.  The diminutive scientist or Human Resources Specialist (or whatever the hell she'd claimed was her job title) was dressed as before in high-heeled pumps, pencil skirt, cotton blouse, white lab coat, and nerdy glasses.  Her expression was... Bonnie decided to go with "professional," although the quirky smile curling her lips gave a strong hint that she really enjoyed her work.

Bonnie, the work in question, tugged on her rubber-padded steel wrist clamp/cuffs and made every effort to express her displeasure and distress regarding her treatment and current condition.  "Mrrrpfh!"  She watched as Folke pulled a mini-size tablet computer from her lab coat pocket and began tapping and gliding her way through whatever it displayed on its small screen.

"I apologize for the delay, Miss Schnupp," Folke purred.  "Administratively, it's been a very busy morning, but don't worry."  She paused to smile at Bonnie through her glasses and placed her left hand on Bonnie's slightly flushed, slightly sweaty right breast in what Bonnie supposed was meant to be a reassuring manner.  "With any luck," Folke continued," we'll be able to complete the first phase of your interview without further interruption."

The vibrator was still buzzing, so Bonnie was finding it difficult to refrain from fidgeting in a most unladylike manner.  Also, she was not reassured.  "Mrrrf?"  Folke returned to tapping the mini-tablet's screen and two things happened:  (1) The intensity of the vibrator dropped to near zero.  The thing was still buzzing and the hum was still modulating in a semi-random pattern, but it was now more of an irritating presence than relentless stimulation.  (2) The chair's back dropped back several degrees and the foot region elevated... then both locked in place.  Bonnie was now more or less in the classic reclined lounging position.  Also, the footrests had folded down and back.  Her ankles were still solidly clamped in place, but now her bare feet were unsupported and dangling in midair.

Folke returned the mini-tablet to her pocket, stepped behind the chair, and Bonnie heard and felt something fold up, press against the back of her head, and lock into place.  The padded steel collar clamped around her neck was already giving her some support, but now she had a padded headrest as well.  Nothing wrong with that; however—"Nrrrf!"—the next thing Folke did was tighten a narrow strap across her forehead, firmly pinning and quite effectively immobilizing her head.  She heard Folke stroll away... followed by the sound of a cabinet door opening and closing... then Folke returned to the chair and smiled.

The diminutive doctor peeled the translucent tape from Bonnie's lips and lower face with one swift (callous) motion—Bonnie gasped in response—and Folke immediately slid something hard, cold, and metallic into her mouth and squeezed a spring-loaded, ratcheting handle.  "Arrrh?"  The steel monstrosity had locked behind Bonnie's upper and lower teeth and forced her jaws apart with relentless pressure, propping her mouth wide open.  Needless to say, Bonnie could do nothing to expel the steel invader or close her jaws.  "Ler ee oh!" she demanded.

Folke strolled away, again.  There was a brief pause—while Bonnie continued squirming, grimacing, and doing her best to deal with the clamp-thing in her mouth—then Folke returned and held up a bulbous object of natural rubber for Bonnie's inspection.

"Alk!"  The thing in the smiling doctor's hands was more-or-less an over-sized pacifier of natural rubber!  It had a leather strap attached, as well as a long, thin length of clear vinyl tubing.  "Mrnlflurmpf!" Bonnie complained as Folke thrust the rubber bulb into her mouth, deftly removed the clamping device she'd used to spread her jaws, then secured the pacifier's strap to the back of the headrest.  The rubber bulb more-or-less filled Bonnie's entire mouth to capacity, but she found it was somewhat pliant.

Folke wheeled over a vertical steel stand with a plastic bag full of some sort of clear fluid dangling at the top, then attached the end of the pacifier's vinyl tube to the bag.  "Now, I'm sure you must be at least a little thirsty," Folke purred, "and regular hydration is important, so why don't you suck on this nice electrolyte solution?"

Yeah? Bonnie fumed silently.  Why don't you suck on this nice electrolyte solution?  "Mrrf."  The fluid had already traveled down the tubing and was beginning to pool in her mouth.  It was surprisingly cool and refreshing, sweet without being cloying, and if, as the doctor said, it was full of "electrolytes," they weren't leaving behind an unpleasant aftertaste.  Bonnie sucked and swallowed.  She was a little thirsty, and while sucking on a giant rubber nipple involuntarily crammed in her mouth wasn't her first choice of method for slaking said thirst, it wasn't a matter of her choice at all.

While Bonnie "enjoyed" her liquid refreshment, Folk rolled a steel lab cart from cabinet to cabinet along the far wall, opening doors and drawers, selecting items, and placing them on the cart.

Bonnie continued sucking on her hydrating pacifier—"Slurp-slurp-slurp"—then her eyes popped wide when Folke returned and she could see what was the doctor had arrayed on the cart.  Resting atop the ubiquitous jade-green cloth were:

• A glass beaker holding a dozen or so large feathers, probably primary flight feathers of geese or turkeys!
• A compact, stainless steel hand tool similar to an electric screwdriver, as well as a small rack with a row of attachments resembling tiny brushes, some with stiff and some with feathery bristles!
• A row of steel medical/dental-type instruments, some with what appeared to be single sharp, curved points, and some shaped disturbing like scaled down animal paws with multiple claws!

Needless to say—"MRRRPFH!"

Bonnie's outburst caused her rubber-filled mouth to leak a little electrolyte solution, but she didn't lose much.  She continued staring at the cart in alarm, but also resumed sucking on the pacifier.  "Slurp-slurp-slurp."  Gravity was continuously delivering the cool fluid, so she could only choose whether to suck and swallow or let the stuff dribble all over the place.

Having let Bonnie get a good look at the cart, Folke rolled it to the foot of the chair, rolled over a padded steel stool and sat, then smiled at her interviewee.  "Now, finish slaking your thirst, and when you're done..."  Folke focused her smile in Bonnie's pinioned, wiggling feet.  "I find that an interval of, shall we say, tactile stimulation, puts my subjects in the proper mood for productive dialogue.  Once I believe you'll be receptive to my questions, I'll remove your gag and we can proceed."

'Stimulation?'  'Receptive?'  "Mrrrmfh!"  Bonnie tugged on her bonds and squirmed in the hard, unpadded, steel chair.  I'm receptive now!  Ask your questions!  Please!  Ask away!

Folke continued smiling, gravity continued delivering fluid to Bonnie's mouth with cosmic indifference, and she had no choice but to continue sucking on the giant pacifier.

"Slurp-slurp-slurp."

After a considerable interval of increasingly uncomfortable darkness... suddenly the door whisked open, the overhead lights blazed, and two of the masked, cat-suited amazons entered the chamber and made a beeline for Jade.  With well-coordinated expertise they released her wrist and ankle cuffs, caught her limp, semi-conscious body before she collapsed to the rubber-clad floor, and controlled her renewed struggles.

Still in a strict shrimp-tie enforced by steel clamps pinching her nipples and linked to her crossed and bound ankles, Audrey watched with sullen resignation (and concern) as the amazons locked a pair of Payne Tower's ubiquitous rubber-clad cuffs on Jade's wrists, a second pair on her ankles, then carried her from the room.  The door whisked closed... and Audrey was alone.

Seconds passed... and turned into a minute... then two.

At least they left the lights on this time, Audrey mused, not that there's much to see.  She felt terrible about Jade Porter getting dragged into this mess.  She hadn't planned on that happening.  Audrey had already decided to hire Jade when her internship expired in a few months, but it would seem the bright, hardworking, ambitious youngster was impetuous to a degree she hadn't realized, and this time Jade had exercised initiative and poked her cute little nose into the wrong mess.  As a result, Dominique's inherent paranoia had ratcheted up to a new level.  Audrey heaved a deep, ball-gagged sigh—which caused the nipple-clamps to pinch tighter—and instantly resolved not to do that again.

Without Jade's unexpected and unauthorized involvement, Dominique might or might not have been inclined to seriously punish Audrey for her role in the supposed conspiracy, but now it was all moot.  Audrey would just have to buck up and take her medicine.  She had no other choice.  She'd look for an opportunity to ease Jade out of the spotlight, of course, but at the moment how she was going to make anything like that happen was a complete mystery.

Just then the door opened and two women entered the chamber.  More amazons?  No, it was Audrey's co-conspirators, Sorcha and Penelope Payne.  To be precise, Sorcha and Penelope were part of the actual conspiracy—the one they all hoped Dominique knew nothing about.  Penelope hadn't been a part of the fake conspiracy, the cover for their actual plan; but she was neck deep in the actual conspiracy.  A tangled web?  Yes, but they'd all agreed that misdirection was the only way they could make this thing work.

Their mutual goal was the ouster of Dominique as PAYNECOM CEO—and things were rapidly coming to a head.

Sorcha wore high-heeled pumps, hose, pencil-skirt, and a blouse with a plunging neckline, all in black, and a deep-red double-breasted jacket.  She had her longish, dark-brown hair loose about her shoulders, and a rather ambiguous smile curled her coral-pink lips.

Penelope's costume was much like her older sister's, only without a jacket, and her blouse was sleeveless with spaghetti-straps tied in a bow at the nape of her neck and a close-fitting, corset-like bodice that hugged her slim waist.  Her angelic face was the very picture of concern.

"You poor thing!" Penelope gushed as she knelt behind Audrey, parted her tousled hair, and reached for the ball-gag's buckle.

"You might want to release the nipple-clamps first," Sorcha purred as, arms crossed under her breasts, she smiled down at Audrey and her little sister.

"Oh, point taken," Penelope sighed.  "Brace yourself, Audie," she whispered in Audrey's right ear, reached around the captive's body, and released both clamps simultaneously.

Audrey glowered up at Sorcha and did her best to hide her reaction, but couldn't completely suppress the shudder that rippled through her helpless form.  The maxim was depressingly true: nipple-clamps do hurt worse coming off than they do going on, but she didn't blame Penelope.  Such things are best done quickly and without preamble.

Finally free of the clamps, Audrey heaved a gagged sigh and sat upright.  She continued glaring at Sorcha as Penelope unbuckled her gag, eased it from her grimacing mouth, re-secured the buckle on the strap's first hole, and let it dangle around her neck.

"Well?" Audrey demanded.

"Well what?" Sorcha chuckled.

"Don't be mean," Penelope chided her sister as she hugged Audrey's box-tie-arm-binder and body-harness restrained form and eased her back until she was reclined against her kneeling body.  "Just relax, Audie," Penelope whispered, kissed her right cheek, then began gently massaging the executive prisoner's flushed nipples.

Audrey did her best to ignore Penelope's hands (although the massage did feel good) and continued glaring at Sorcha.  "Is everything on track?  Or am I letting myself be tortured for nothing?"  Sorcha's smile turned even more evil (or gloating, or whatever), and it didn't help lighten Audrey's mood.

"I didn't realize you were letting yourself be tortured," Sorcha purred.  "That binder and harness look like the real things."

"Just answer the question," Audrey huffed, then suppressed a shiver as Penelope's nipple massage enlarged to incorporate the periodic squeezing and kneading of both breasts.

"Yes," Sorcha chuckled.  "Everything is on track.  If my darling sister—"  She smiled at Penelope.  "—by which I mean my darling older sister, doesn't call a board meeting to deal with your 'treachery' within the next two days, I'll call one myself."

Suddenly Xin, resplendent in her black spandex catsuit uniform, strolled into the chamber.  "When next you check your e-mail, Madam Chief Operating Officer," she addressed Sorcha, "you'll find said meeting has been scheduled for early tomorrow morning."

"Well," Sorcha said to Audrey, "there you go."  She shifted her smile to Xin.  "Hello, Madam Security Supervisor."

Xin nodded to Penelope.  "Gag.  I'll step back and reenter.  It will make editing the security camera recording easier."

Penelope nodded, popped the ball back in Audrey's mouth, and tightened the buckle.  "It's for the best, Audie," she whispered in Audrey's ear, then kissed her bulging cheek.

Xin took three steps back across the threshold, paused, then returned.  "Who told you two you could play with one of Mistress Dominique's toys?" she demanded.

"Lighten up, Xin," Sorcha answered.  "I just brought my little sister so she can see what happens to traitorous business associates."

"Mistress would not approve," Xin huffed, then knelt and untied the leash binding Audrey's cross ankles.  She removed and pocketed the nipple-clamps, clipped the leash to a D-ring in the front of Audrey's arm-binder, took a firm grip, and hauled the captive to her bare feet.  She then turned and smiled at Penelope.  "You probably won't want to see what I've been ordered to do to Ms. Klein next, Little Payne," she purred.

Penelope blinked in alarm (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) then climbed to her feet and scurried to her sister's side.

"C'mon, sis," Sorcha chuckled, took hold of Penelope's right hand, and led her from the chamber.

Xin resumed smiling at Audrey, who gazed back with gagged resignation.  "This way, Ms. Klein," she said as she pulled the leash taut and stepped off.  Audrey had no choice but to follow.

As they entered the hallway Audrey watched the younger Payne sisters disappear around a corner to the left.  Xin led her to the right, to a destination only a few doors down.  The door in question whisked open as they approached and Xin entered the space beyond—but Audrey froze in the threshold.

She found herself staring at a "Sybian," a combination hassock and saddle, well-padded with black leather and mounted on a solid vertical post in the center of the otherwise empty room.  A rubber phallus and conical butt-plug projected upwards from the padding.

"Nrrrf!" Audrey mewled through her ball-gag, shaking her head.

"Silly plaything," Xin chuckled, jerked on the leash, and dragged Audrey into the chamber.  The door whisked closed behind her.  "If you give me any trouble, I'm authorized to add to your punishment a steel cage-bra lined with needles that incorporates a nasty pair of vibrating, nipple-stretching clamps.  I'd just as soon not, as I'm sure your nipples would like a chance to rest for a few hours, but the choice is yours."

Her eyes still wide, Audrey didn't resist as Xin unbuckled the harness-strap cleaving her labia, forced her to the Sybian, and lifted her onto the saddle, making sure the twin invaders eased into the appropriate openings.  This evoked more mewling complaints and shudders of discomfort on Audrey's part, as well as renewed appreciation of Xin's strength and prisoner-handling expertise.

The saddle was well designed.  It gave Audrey a stable seat as Xin buckled wide leather cuffs with attached chains around her ankles and then clipped the ends of the chains to rings set in the floor.  Stable, indeed, and it became even more so when Xin clipped the end of a dangling vertical chain to a D-ring sewn in the body-harness between her shoulder blades and then triggered motors that took in the slack on all three chains.  Finally, she threaded the buckle and strap of the harness' crotch-strap through a matching buckle and strap attached to the Sybian's front and back, fastening Audrey firmly in place indeed, to say the least.

Audrey squirmed and shivered as she tried, with limited success, to ignore the twin intruders.  She could flex her splayed and outstretched legs, just a little, but her most energetic struggles couldn't accurately be characterized as kicks.  Her upper body had slightly more freedom to twist and wiggle, but she knew she wasn't going anywhere.

Xin stepped in front of Audrey's perch and smiled at her helpless charge.  "The new low-friction latex is a marvelous invention, don't you agree?  Before the recent upgrade, I had to waste time lubricating the 'accessories.'  Otherwise, there would be all sorts of complaining."

Audrey stared invisible, razor-sharp, and exotically-curved daggers at her handler, all of which Xin deflected with the invisible, impervious shield of being in irrefutable command of the entire situation, especially Audrey.

"Now," Xin purred, "to get on with the obligatory gloating lecture, both the phallus and plug vibrate, but their motors are deliberately mismatched, causing all sorts of very interesting harmonics as they independently vary in intensity."  She glanced at her wristwatch.  "Oh, look at the time.  I'll have to cut this short."

"Mrrrpfh!" Audry complained as Xin turned and strolled to the door.  It whisked open, but she paused in the threshold.

"Five minutes on, ten minutes off, five minutes on, ten minutes off, etc., etc.," Xin explained.  "I'll see you in a few hours, Ms. Klein."

"Nrrrm!"  Audrey watched as Xin took a step into the hallway and the door whisked closed, then heaved a sigh, resigned to her fate.  She hadn't expected Dominique to be this vindictive when she'd agreed to her role in Sorcha's "conspiracy."  It was well known that Dominique liked to play rough, but this was cruelty at a level beyond the kinky, decadent opulence of the Payne Tower's penthouse nightclubs and "spas."  She suspected it might be because Jade had inserted herself into the scenario.  Dominique hated the unexpected.  Being in control of things was her life.  A lowly intern doing something as unexpected as sneaking into the Aqua Lounge had rattled the PAYNECOM CEO.

It was silly, in Audrey's opinion.  Dominique could have and should have instructed the security staff to give Jade the bum's rush to the "vanilla" side of the tower.  Dragging Jade into boardroom intrigue at the highest level was unnecessary and irresponsible, one more example of why Dominique had to go before she overreached once too often and PAYNECOM and its associated studios (like Klein Productions) went crashing down in flames.

Just then, three things happened: (1) most of the overhead lights winked out, leaving only a handful of spotlights focused on Audrey and the Sybian; (2) Panels slid up into the ceiling exposing huge mirrors on all four walls, including the back of the door; and (3) the phallus and plug in her vagina and anus, respectively, began to vibrate.

Audrey winced and shivered in her bonds.  Xin had told the truth.  The out-of-sync, pulsing vibrations were unendurable, and became increasingly so as the overall level of buzzing torment slowly built in intensity.  Of course, being bound and gagged atop the Sybian, Audrey had no choice but to endure.