FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY WYNTER
		by Van ©2011
		Chapter 3

OUR STORY CONTINUES

Kitty continued struggling, using every trick she knew to extricate herself from Lady Arabelle's ropes.  It was pointless.  She'd known that from the start, but she'd been ordered to try—ordered to escape, actually, with the promise of punishment if (when) she failed—so, she struggled.

Fear of punishment wasn't Kitty's motivation.  She was sure (she hoped, anyway) that she could take anything Arabelle or her "ladies" could dish out.  Kitty was pretending to be a Bottom, her Mistress had given her an order, so she had to try.  She'd play along, be the diligent little subbie, and wait 'til Arabelle was satisfied she'd made her point and the "fun" was over.  Then, she assumed they'd start her real indoctrination and she could get on with the business of finding out if anybody here knew anything about Liesl Zirner.

Panting through her ball-gag, her breasts heaving, Kitty continued struggling.  At least I managed to work up some sweat, she thought.  That much I did pull off.  Kitty paused for a few seconds, still panting, then went back to squirming and twisting.

More than an hour had passed.  Kitty couldn't be sure exactly how much more than an hour, of course.  There wasn't a clock in sight, but she was sure it was more than an hour—and her new employer just kept blogging or checking her e-mail or browsing for Groupon coupons or watching cute kittens on YouTube or whatever the hell she was doing with her laptop.

Abruptly, Arabelle closed the laptop, spun her chair and tapped a button on her phone, then opened a credenza drawer.  She pulled something out—a small bundle of black cloth—then stood and walked around the desk.

Kitty's gaze was on her bound toes.  It would be inappropriate for her to look at her "Mistress" without permission.  Arabelle stepped behind her—and the issue of where to look became instantly moot.  The black cloth was a spandex hood, and now it was over Kitty's head.  It was close-fitting and light-tight; however, she found she could easily breathe through the fabric.  It felt like the section over her eyes was padded, and there might be a small mesh window over her nostrils.  A wide band of Velcro was sealed around her neck, and the hood was on to stay.

Seconds passed, then Kitty heard the office door open.

"How may I serve you, Mistress?"  The voice was female, husky, a little scratchy, and—Kitty had to admit—kinda sexy.

"A provisional employee," Arabelle answered.  "She failed her first task and must be punished; however, she tried very hard."

"I understand, Mistress," the new voice purred.

"Her name is 'Kitty'." Arabelle added.  "For now, I've decided to let her keep it."

Someone, probably the newcomer, knelt and began untying Kitty's toes and legs.  This took a minute or so, but soon the task was accomplished and Kitty was hauled to her feet.  A rigid collar of some sort clicked around her throat, over the band of the hood.

"When allowed to walk or stand," Ms. Sexy-Voice said, "you will do so up on your toes."

Uh... you mean me? Kitty thought.  Seconds passed... then something, possibly the business end of a riding crop, landed on Kitty's left butt cheek with a stinging snap!

Kitty flinched, then went up on her toes.  Oh, you do mean me... Bitch!

Without another word—including dismissal from Lady Arabelle—a leash attached to the collar snapped taut and Kitty was led from the office.  Mincing along on her toes, she followed in her unseen, sexy-voiced handler's wake (all the while reminding herself that she was a submissive Bottom and did not very much want to pummel her unseen, sexy-voiced handler to within an inch of her unseen, sexy-voiced life).

Bondage, My Sweet

Chapter 3

Doors opened and closed and carpet gave way to bare floor, possibly linoleum or tile.  Also, the tap of Ms. Husky's heels began to echo, suggesting fabric had given way to bare walls.

They crossed another threshold, and the leash went slack.

"Position one," Kitty's handler ordered.

Kitty sighed through her gag and hood, then placed her feet about eighteen inches apart, went down off her toes, and straightened her back.  Obviously, with her hands bound behind her back from thumbs to elbows she couldn't put her hands on top of her head, so this was the closest she could come to the ordered position.

Snap!  This time the crop had stung her right butt cheek.

"Toes," Husky-Voice ordered.

Kitty went back up on her toes.  Bitch!

The collar was removed.  Then, the Velcro closure of the hood was ripped open and the hood, itself, was removed.

Blinking in the sudden light, Kitty shook the hair from her face and looked around.  The room had concrete block walls painted a hideous shade of institutional green.  Against one wall was a sink and commode, both of stainless steel.  In the left corner there was a stainless steel shower stall, and to Kitty's immediate right—

Wow!

Standing before Kitty was an erotic, female vision that could only be Mistress Sexy-Husky-Voice.  She was tall, with high-cheeked, tan, Latin features, long, sleek, black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, and a svelte, well-toned, killer body.  She was wearing a studded leather collar—a tight, corset-sheath-dress with steel bra cups—and a pair of ballet-knee-boots with six-inch heels.  A riding crop was in her hands—Bitch!—and a somewhat amused, slightly bored expression graced her gorgeous face.

"I am Mistress Dominique," the vision purred.  "When not gagged and directed to speak, you will address me as 'Mistress.'  In the presence of The Mistress, Lady Arabelle, you will address me as 'Mistress Dominique,' for clarity's sake."  Her brown eyes were locked with Kitty's.  "That assumes a sniveling slave, such as yourself, dares to speak in the presence of The Mistress."

'Slave?' Kitty fumed.  She was careful not to reveal her anger (she hoped).

Dominique used the tip of her crop to lift Kitty's chin.  "You seem to have impressed The Mistress with your feeble, pathetic efforts to follow her orders," she continued, "but you'll find I'm not so easy to please.  The Mistress ordered me to go easy, but your lack of obedience to my orders and insolent attitude are entirely different issues.  For example—"  Whack!  She'd delivered a stinging slap to the side of Kitty's left breast.  "At the moment, you are staring at my face as if you were an actual person."

Ow!  That really hurt!  How'd you like me to take that crop and shove it up your—

Whack!  This time it had been Kitty's right breast.

Kitty dropped her gaze to the Dominique Bitch's boots.  Ow!  Okay, okay, I'm your slave, I'm your slave... for now.

Dominique grabbed a handful of Kitty's hair and pulled her close.  "Get on the commode," she ordered.  "Empty your bladder and your bowels.  Do you think you can manage to do that, slave?"

I will if you let go of my hair, Bitch!

Dominique's grip tightened.

Ow!

"I asked you a question, slave."

"Mrrrf!" Kitty "answered."

Dominique gave Kitty a shove in the appropriate direction.  She stumbled, then padded to the commode and sat.  Bitch!  She kept her eyes "respectfully" lowered and focused on Dominique's boots.  Those things have got to hurt, she thought, as she tinkled into the bowl.  She managed to take a "number two," as well, eventually—all the while fantasizing about Mistress Dominique with a ball-gag padlocked in her mouth, bent at the waist in that super-tight leather sheath, her wrists and elbows bound behind her back in the strappado position, and balanced on her permanently pointed toes.

As far as Kitty could tell, there was no means for her to flush the toilet, even if her arms weren't bound behind her back.

The problem was solved when Dominique stepped to a steel panel set in the wall and pressed a button.  The toilet flushed.  "Stay exactly where you are, slave," she purred, and pushed another button.

Eeek!  A jet of cold water had splashed Kitty's nether region—and it was continuing to splash her nether region in a pulsing stream.  Kitty remained squatting on the throne, doing her best not to let her simmering anger show on her grimacing, ball-gagged face.

In Kitty's mind, Plan A: (1) Infiltrate Lady Arabelle's domain and (2) learn what she could about Liesl Zirner—was rapidly becoming Plan B: (1) Infiltrate Lady Arabelle's domain, (2) learn what she could about Liesl Zirner, and (3) spend several leisurely hours torturing "Mistress Dominique."

Bondage, My Sweet

Chapter 3

Liesl willed herself to remain perfectly still.

Her bondage was relatively simple—in fact, the simplest and least elaborate she had thus far endured.  However, as in all the other restrained situations she'd been placed in since becoming Lady Arabelle's slave, her predicament was totally inescapable.

Liesl was naked and spreadeagled on her back on a rigid, rectangular plate of stainless steel.  It had the approximate dimensions of a standard, "full" size mattress and was mounted on a heavy, immovable frame.  It was also pitched a few degrees from the horizontal, elevating her head and hands and lowering her feet.

Her wrists and ankles were strapped in medical restraints: six-centimeter inner cuffs of white, padded, glove-soft leather, three-centimeter outer cuffs of tan leather, and stainless steel buckles secured by small padlocks.  D-rings attached to the four cuffs were shackle-bolted to steel pins that had snapped into four holes in the steel "bed" and locked in place.

Liesl was bound in a spread-eagle, but not a particularly stringent spread-eagle.  She could have squirmed and made the usual comfort movements required to attempt to ease her condition—but, as already mentioned, she was willing herself to remain perfectly still.

Coin-sized copper contacts were taped to her breasts, one on either side of each nipple.  Additional contacts were taped to her upper thighs, on either side of her pussy.  Wire leads trailed to electrical control panels clamped to the periphery of the slab.  In addition, a silver bullet vibrator was inside her pussy with its tip nudging her clitoris.  Steel clips gripping her labia anchored it in place.  The pincers had weak springs and weren't painful; however, they were more than sufficient to prevent her from dislodging the thumb-sized intruder.

A large mirror was mounted on the ceiling at an angle matching Liesl's bed.  It provided her with a perfect view of her own body.  Multiple small spotlights provided illumination.  Thankfully, they were positioned such that their glare didn't punish her eyes.

And finally, there was the reason for her voluntary paralysis.  The sensor of an infrared motion detector was mounted on a tripod and focused on her spreadeagled form.  Complex electronics were involved, the technical aspects of which Liesl neither cared about nor understood.  The practical aspect of the technological trap, however, was something she very much cared about and fully understood.

If the sensor detected motion on Liesl's part, it triggered an electrical shock in one or more of the wired portions of her anatomy.  The pulses were quite painful, although she'd been assured they weren't physically harmful.  The jolts varied in intensity on a continuum from very annoying to something akin to a bee sting, and all of the levels were unpleasant—to the point that Liesl preferred remaining stock still to enduring their punishment.

And then, there was the vibrator.  At random intervals, with random duration and intensity and without apparent relationship to the motion detector, the bullet would buzz to life.  And when that happened, Liesl dare not move, else she be zapped in her nipples and/or pussy.

Liesl was gagged, of course.  When she wasn't being fed or watered or performing some other activity requiring her lips and tongue, Liesl was always gagged.  This time, it was a simple strip of Elastoplast tape that sealed her lips and covered her lower face from nose to chin and ear to ear.

Liesl was naked.  She was bound.  She was gagged.  She was a slave.

Mistress had placed her in this predicament.  It was horrible, but that was unimportant.  Her ordeal was unwitnessed, as best she could tell, and was enforced by mindless, uncaring machines; however, the mere thought of Liesl's helpless suffering brought pleasure to her Mistress.  That was important.

Hours... she had been bound to the steel slab for hours... with no prospect of release.  Was it really hours?  She'd dozed off at one point, only to be awakened by a zap to her right nipple, followed by a prolonged jolt to her pussy.  Obviously, she'd moved in her sleep.  Sleep was out.  Even that escape from her predicament was denied.

Liesl stared up at her pale, freckled, helpless reflection... and remained perfectly still.

Bondage, My Sweet

Chapter 3

Kitty's arms had been untied; however, the ball-gag remained padlocked in her mouth and the black spandex hood was back on her head.  She was otherwise unrestrained—naked and unrestrained.

Of course, Kitty was still restrained by her continuing role: apprentice Top undergoing Bottom indoctrination.

Mistress Dominique—a.k.a. "She Who Desperately Needs a Serious Ass-Kicking"—was directing her down the corridor by means of taps on the butt-cheeks—Kitty's butt-cheeks—with her riding crop.  A tap on the left cheek meant "right turn."  A tap on the right, "left turn."

Hands atop her hooded head and fingers interlaced, Kitty minced down the hall on tiptoe.  Bitch! she fumed.

"Stop!" Dominique barked, and Kitty complied.

Kitty heard the sound of a door being unlocked and opened... then she was directed into what she assumed was a side room.

"Up on the table," Dominique ordered.

Table?  Kitty groped until she found a hard edge, then eased up onto a padded surface.

"On your back with your arms at your sides."

Kitty complied.  Obviously, some sort of bondage was coming.  Would it be rope, cloth bandages, or something else?  Kitty heard the sound of something being unrolled, accompanied by the metallic tinkling of what were probably numerous small buckles.  There was also the faint, familiar odor of expensively-tanned cowhide.  Kitty sighed through her gag and hood.  Leather.

Over the next few minutes, Dominique worked a leather sheath up, over, and around Kitty's limp form, rolling her unresisting body as required.  Kitty's legs remained together and her arms at her sides, but now they were tucked into sleeves sewn to the interior of the sheath.  A zipper was closed, sliding up the full length of Kitty's body from ankles to throat.

Then, the buckling began.  Straps were secured around her ankles, calves and shins, above and below the knees, her thighs, and around her wrists, arms, and torso.  The sheath had been tight to begin with, but the straps were positioned to gather pleats in the leather, and when they were cinched tight, the sheath became skintight.

Kitty felt Dominique fiddling with the strap of her spandex hood.  The Velcro was ripped open and the shroud was pulled from her head.  As she blinked in the sudden light, Dominique turned Kitty's head to the side.  The padlock securing her ball-gag was unlocked, the buckle was released, and the gag, itself, popped from her mouth.

"Not a word, slave," Dominique purred.  She was working her way around the table, snapping clips attached to straps through D-rings attached to the outside of the sheath.

Kitty looked around the room.  The walls were concrete blocks painted flat black, as was the ceiling.  Other than the door, the table, Kitty, and Dominique, the room appeared to be bare.

Meanwhile, Dominique was working her way around the table a second time, this time tightening the straps.  Kitty was now squeezed inside the sheath, and the sheath, itself, was tightly strapped to the table.  Dominique stepped to the foot of the table, attached and tightened a final strap, and Kitty's leather encased feet were pulled on pointe.  She then strolled to the head of the table, peered down at Kitty's face... and smiled.

"I know what you're thinking, slave," Dominique said.

What? Kitty fumed.  The part where I kick you in the clam, or the part where I use your boobs as bongo drums?

"You think you can endure," Dominique continued.  "You think you can wait things out."  She stroked the side of Kitty's face.  "Do you think you're the first would-be dom I've trained?  Do you think you're the first Mistress wannabe I've taken apart and put back together?"  Dominique stepped away, there was a gurgling sound, and she returned with a glass of clear liquid in her hand.  She held Kitty's head and helped her drink.

Kitty swallowed what turned out to be cool water.  Thank you—Bitch.

Dominique returned the empty glass to wherever it came from, then stroked the side of Kitty's face, again.  "Let's see now... I owe you a punishment, don't I?"

Kitty locked eyes with Dominique.  She very much hoped the burning resentment she felt did not show on her face.

"I asked you a question, slave," Dominique purred.  "Are you being disrespectful?"

"No, Mistress," Kitty answered.  "I owe you a punishment, Mistress."

"Yes, you do," Dominique chuckled, "if for no reason than it pleases me to watch you squirm."  She reached under the table and produced a tape-dispenser.  She stripped off a generous piece of off-white, thick, opaque tape, then stretched it over Kitty's pouting lips.

Elastoplast, Kitty realized.  The good stuff.

Dominique's strong, tan fingers smoothed the tape against Kitty's face.  "Your punishment is being put to bed without any supper... and with no stimulation.  No entertainment for your pretty nipples or your moist little pussy.  No clips or vibrators for you, naughty kitten."

Golly, what a shame, Kitty mused.  No clips or vibrators?  That's a punishment?  She realized Dominique was playing with her head.  Arabelle's operation is more sophisticated than I thought.  There's more to this place than a simple smack-and-tickle parlor.

The tape dispenser disappeared and Dominique produced a pair of ear bud headphones.  Kitty held her head still as they were fitted into her ears, first on the left, and then on the right.

Next came what Kitty recognized as an isolation hood.  It was a top-of-the-line model, with integrated blindfold pads and gag-panel.  Her lips curled in a supremely irritating and very evil smile, Dominique slid the hood over Kitty's head, zipped it closed, and began tightening and buckling its many straps.  The pads pressed against Kitty's eyes.  Then, the panel tightened over her tape-gagged mouth.  Next, a strap encircled her head from chin to crown and was buckled tight.

Kitty felt the Dominique bitch doing something to the left side of the hood... then at the crown... and then on the right.  Seconds later, something snapped taut at each position, in reverse order.  She's strapped the hood to the table, Kitty realized.

Finally, a collar—possibly the remaining strap of the body-sheath—tightened around her throat.

And then... silence.  Silence and immobility.

Seconds became minutes.

Well... this sucks.  Kitty tested her bonds.  The best she could do was a little ineffective wiggling.  This sucks big-time.

Suddenly, a voice—Lady Arabelle's voice—began whispering in her ears.

"I am no longer a person.  I am a slave.  My body is not my own.  My body is the property of my Mistress.  I will obey all commands without hesitation or reservation.  I live to serve my Mistress.  I live to please my Mistress."

More head games, Kitty realized.

"I am no longer a person.  I am a slave.  My body is not my own.  My body is the property of my Mistress.  I will obey all commands without hesitation or reservation.  I live to serve my Mistress.  I live to please my Mistress."

Kitty sighed through her gag.  Just great.  This is going to be a really restful night.

"I am no longer a person.  I am a slave.  My body is not my own.  My body is the property of my Mistress.  I will obey all commands without hesitation or reservation.  I live to serve my Mistress.  I live to please my Mistress."

Could be worse.  It could be Dominique-the-Bitch babbling in my ears.

"I am no longer a person.  I am a slave.  My body is not my own.  My body is the property of my Mistress.  I will obey all commands without hesitation or reservation.  I live to serve my Mistress.  I live to please my Mistress."

Then again... Dominique does have a sexy voice.

"I am no longer a person.  I am a slave.  My body is not my own.  My body is the property of my Mistress.  I will obey all commands without hesitation or reservation.  I live to serve my Mistress.  I live to please my Mistress."

"I am no longer a person.  I am a slave.  My body is not my own.  My body is the property of my Mistress.  I will obey all commands without hesitation or reservation.  I live to serve my Mistress.  I live to please my Mistress."

The End of...
Bondage, My Sweet		Chapter 3

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