FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY WYNTER
		by Van ©2011
		Chapter 5

OUR STORY CONTINUES

Kitty watched Dominique run through her workout routine—stationary bike, followed by two Nautilus circuits, followed by the treadmill.  Then, Kitty was released from the hogtie and chained at the wrists and ankles to a stationary bike, the kind that required pedaling and alternately pushing and pulling on the handles of a pair of long lever arms.  Fortunately, the bike's seat was covered by some sort of frictionless cloth, was well-padded, and was designed to provide support without chaffing.

Panting through the ring-gag still strapped in her mouth, Kitty pedaled, pumped, and watched her Mistress—that is, her "Mistress"—return to her lounge chair and resume reading her e-book.  Bitch!  Objectively speaking, one could do a lot worse than watching a naked Dominique stretch, recline, and relax her lithe, athletic, well-toned body on the soft cushions.  Smooth, brown skin, firm titties, and great cheekbones, Kitty conceded.  She's really rockin' the whole Mayan Princess meets Spanish Lady thing.  Kitty shook her head.  Get a grip!  She's the enemy... my beautiful, sexy-voiced enemy.

Phase two of Kitty's workout lasted at least another hour.  Then, finally, Dominique released her from the machine and hogtied her on the mat, once again.

"Stay," the naked Latina purred, and left the exercise room by the side door.

Sure, Kitty fumed, panting through her ring-gag and glistening with sweat.  No problem.  Nothin' else to do.  Take your time.

The cuffs were still padlocked, but what about the chain enforcing the hogtie?  Kitty groped for the ankle connection and examined it by feel, as best she could.  It wasn't a simple clip.  There were levers or studs that had to be manipulated in sequence, possibly using two hands.  Kitty tried everything she could think of, but the "puzzle-clip" was designed to defeat her efforts, and without knowing how the mechanism worked... no chance.  Finally, she stopped fiddling, relaxed in her bonds, and sighed through her ring-gag.  Anyway, I'm not supposed to be escaping, I'm supposed to be looking for Liesl Zirner.  Kitty sighed, again.  I could use a cold beer.

Several minutes later, Dominique returned.  Obviously, she'd had a shower.  Her smooth, brown skin was clean, her hair was in its customary bun, and she was back in her leather sheath-dress (with steel bra cups) and cruel boots.  She knelt and released Kitty's ankles, then pulled her to her feet.

"You could use a shower," Dominique purred, "but I've decided I like you a little ripe."

Hilarious, Kitty fumed, glaring at her Mistress.

Dominique led Kitty down the hallway to yet another door.  It was unlocked and Kitty crossed the threshold to find herself in a room with bare walls painted flat black.  A black steel cabinet was next to the door and a winch was mounted on the far wall.  The chain wound around the winch's drum stretched up to a pulley mounted in the ceiling.  The floor was concrete, with a small drain in the center.

Kitty's wrist cuffs were released and she allowed her Mistress—Grrr!  I HATE this game!—to clip them first together in front, and then to the ring at the end of the dangling chain.  The hogtie chain was passed through a ring set in the floor, then the ends used to hobble her ankles.

Dominique strolled to the winch, inserted and turned a barrel key, then thumbed a button.   Whirrrr...  The motor hummed, the drum turned, and Kitty's wrists were pulled towards the ceiling.  Eventually, she was at full stretch, with her heels threatening to leave the floor.  Dominique locked the winch and withdrew the key, then took a step back and smiled.

"Don't think I haven't noticed your change in attitude, slave," Dominique purred, locking eyes with her prisoner.

Oh, shit!  Kitty lowered her gaze, but she knew she was too late.

"Tough girl," Dominique chuckled.  "But time is on my side, isn't it, Kitty-cat?  Days, weeks, months...  I have all the time in the world to take you apart."  She spun on her spike heels and left the room, closing and locking the door behind her.

Great, Kitty sighed.  I guess I'll hang out for a while.

Suddenly, something flashed as it dropped from the ceiling and passed directly in front of her face.  She looked up and watched water drip from the end of a pipe in the ceiling.  The drip-drip-drip increased to a trickle.  Thirsty beggars can't be choosers, Kitty decided, went up on her toes, leaned forward, and placed her ring-gagged mouth in the path of the stream.  It was cool, clean water.

Kitty "drank" her fill and let the water drizzle over her head and drip down her body, as best she could.  It was hardly a relaxing shower, but it wasn't bad.

Okay, Kitty decided, I won't torture Dominique all the time, once I escape and catch her... just most of the time.

Bondage, My Sweet

Chapter 5

The "drip shower" consumed another hour.  Then, Kitty was marched down the hall to yet another room where she "enjoyed" her evening dinner.  It took the form of some sort of smoothie and was green, lumpy, and had a slightly fishy odor, but (thankfully) was not as disgusting as Kitty feared.  It was suggested (ordered) that she empty her bladder in a stainless steel toilet, then, she was marched down the hall, again.

Her destination was a rather unconventional "bedroom."  There was a bed, queen-size, with a blue-gray top-sheet and matching pillow.  It was also equipped with medical restraints—padded, buff leather cuffs attached to buff leather straps that were tautly stretched across the mattress.

Kitty was released, completely—ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and ring gag.  Totally nude, her hair a tousled mess, Kitty stared at the waiting mattress.

Smiling sweetly, Dominique pointed at the bed.  "On your back, head there and feet there."

Kitty sighed (surreptitiously), climbed onto the bed, and Dominique began buckling the cuffs around her wrists, upper arms, lower thighs, and ankles.  When her Mistress was finished, Kitty was on her back, with her legs splayed and bent at the knees and her arms raised and bent at the elbows.  Kitty noted the cuffs were the kind with locking tabs that prevented the escape of double-jointed, contortionist "patients" with tentacles for fingers.  Kitty was a good escapologist, but she wasn't that good.

Dominique continued to smile, but she remained silent.  Kitty's eyes disappeared behind a blindfold, a buff leather strap anchoring a pair of circular pads.  Ear buds were firmly planted in her ears—Here we go again, Kitty sighed—then Dominique leaned close and kissed her on the lips!

A butterfly fluttered in Kitty's stomach and a thrill rippled up her spine.  It was the surprise of her "Mistress" suddenly showing affection that was unsettling (okay, arousing).  That's it, the surprise... and nothing else!

Dominique leaned close, again—Kitty could feel her breath—but instead of a warm, soft pair of Evil Bitch lips, a wide strip of Elastoplast was pressed against Kitty's mouth.  Strong fingers smoothed the tape, insuring a firm grip, then Dominique climbed off the bed.

Kitty couldn't hear very well through the silent ear buds, but she thought she heard the door open, followed by a quiet conversation.  Seconds passed, then a pair of hands cupped her breasts—and squeezed.  Then, her nipples were pinched—gently pinched.  More quiet conversation followed... then, something, some sort of harness, was buckled around Kitty's waist and upper thighs.  Something flopped onto the bed between Kitty's legs.  There was some squirming... and a face was pressed against her crotch!

"Mrrrfh?"

More squirming, the sound of buckles rattling (maybe), and the face remained planted between her legs.

"Mmmmf!"

Lips, teeth, and a tongue began exploring one of Kitty's favorite anatomical regions... and continued exploring.  Kitty lifted her hips, as best she could, and tried rolling away.  The straps of her waist harness pulled, the tongue continued its spelunking, and the lips and teeth their nibbling, and Kitty realized the truth: she was in—they were in—one of those face-to-crotch harnesses.  She had no idea who her "partner" might be, but whoever she was, she seemed to know what she was doing.

Kitty realized her efforts to pull away had become efforts to help.  Why the hell not? she rationalized.  She had little choice, and it was a lot better than being tickled, whipped, or tortured in some other horrific manner.  Kitty's breasts heaved and her nostrils flared.

I have GOT to get one of these harnesses for Bertie, she mused.  For me, actually.

Suddenly, the ear buds droned to life.  Here we go, Kitty shuddered.

"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."

Bondage, My Sweet

Chapter 5

The next morning—Kitty assumed it was morning—Kitty felt fingers fiddling with her blindfold.  It came away, the ear buds were removed, and then Dominique began unlocking and releasing Kitty's cuffs.  Kitty blinked and focused on the lower half of the bed.  A woman was between her legs.  No surprise there, Kitty thought.  She's been sucking my pussy, off and on, for most of the night.   The anonymous sucker had a mop of tousled red curls and was fair-skinned.  Dominique was dressed in a different black leather sheath-dress, but was otherwise unchanged.  The redhead's wrists were bound behind her back with leather cuffs and her ankles hobbled by matching cuffs separated by a length of chain.

Dominique released the last of Kitty's restraints, then attacked the buckles of the face-to-crotch harness.  Harness completely released, she pulled the redhead away from Kitty's crotch and off the bed.  "You too, Kitty-slave," she purred.  "Rise and shine."

As she climbed off the bed, Kitty's eyes popped wide.  Then, she quickly controlled her reaction, turning it into an attempt to yawn through her tape-gag and adding an arm stretch for good measure.  She was finally awake enough to put the pieces together and realized—she'd found Liesl Zirner!

Dominique spun Liesl around and began unlocking and unbuckling her cuffs.

Kitty considered what to do.  She was free, except for her tape gag, but her muscles were stiff and her head was still a little groggy.

"Position one, Kitty-cat!" Dominique barked.

Without thinking, Kitty went up on her toes and placed her hands atop her head.

Meanwhile, Dominique had plastered a strip of Elastoplast over Liesl's mouth.  Without being ordered, the redhead stepped next to Kitty and assumed the position.

Dominique smiled, eased the handle of her crop into her right hand, then began tapping her left palm with the business end.  "My, my, what a pretty pair," she purred, then used the crop to lift Kitty's right breast.  "Both in excellent shape, one with smooth, tan skin..."  She shifted to the side.  "And one with freckles."  She lifted Liesl's right breast.  "Not quite as large, but adequate... more than adequate, and just as bindable."  She took a step back.  "Did we have fun last night?  Perhaps tonight I'll have you reverse roles."  She grinned at Kitty.  "Then both of you can have your plays-well-with-others box checked."

Actually, Kitty fumed, I've always been a runs-with-scissors kinda girl.

Dominique opened the door and waved the crop.  "Out the door and to the left, with Liesl-slave in the lead.  Our destination is Fitting Room One, liebschen.  You know the way."

Liesl tiptoed out the door and Kitty minced after her.  Dominique brought up the rear, not on her tiptoes (unless you factored in the high heels of her boots).

Kitty gazed at Liesl's back, rump and legs.  The bitch isn't wrong, she mused.  Liesl is a cutie.  Kinda reminds me of Bertie.  They both have firm little bods and freckles... but Fraulein Zirner has peachy-pink skin and Bertie's can hold a tan.

"Fitting Room One" turned out to be a twenty by twenty chamber lines with cabinets.  Liesl minced to the center of the room, and Kitty followed.  They watched as Dominique opened one of the larger cabinets.  Inside were leather harnesses on hangers.  They varied greatly in color and design.

"Let's see," Dominique said.  Her back was to the waiting slaves as she sorted through the wealth of restraining costumes.  "So many choices.  I think you should both wear the same color, and I'm in the mood for something tight and complicated.  I think we have something appropriate in matching colors, but—Urk!

Kitty had pounced!  She had Dominique in a choke-hold from behind.  Eyes wide and arms flailing, the dom tried to kick and roll away, but Kitty knew what she was doing.  She used the momentum of Dominique's struggles against her and flipped her to the floor, landing on top.  Dominique's face turned red and her struggles grew weaker... and finally, her eyes rolled up and she went limp.

Kitty stood, ripped the tape from her lips, and began opening cabinets.  "I'm Kitty Wynter," she told the wide-eyed, staring Liesl.  "I'm here to rescue you."  She kept opening cabinets, finding nothing but more leather goods in the form of corsets, binders, hobble-skirts, etc..  "Great, the only room in the establishment without rope."  She opened another cabinet and found an array of crops, whips, and floggers, as well as several tasers and cattle-prods resting in recharging stands.  Kitty continued opening cabinets.  "I need something simple to deal with her—"  She nodded at Dominique's unconscious form.  "Cuffs or rope or cable-ties.  Then, a body sheath with a hood or a mailbag or something we can dump her in so anyone looking in won't know who she is.  Then, you and I can find some clothes and skedaddle.  I assume you know the way ou—Akkk!

Kitty twitched and collapsed to the floor.  She rolled on her side, muscles twitching, and found Liesl standing over her, her mouth still taped and a cattle-prod in her hand.  Kitty watched, semi-paralyzed, as the tip approach her body, and—Zap!

Darkness.

Bondage, My Sweet

Chapter 5

Bertie rose early, put on the kettle, then put her plan (what there was of it) in motion.

While the water came to a boil she got dressed.  By the time the kettle whistled, she was in one of the several costumes she used for undercover and/or surveillance work.  In this case it was brown work boots, gray wool socks, and cargo shorts, tank top, and jacket, all in brown.  UPS was embroidered on the jacket, large letters across the back and small over her heart, and a very convincing photo-id was clipped to the zipper-pull, complete with company logo, a bar-code, and a holographic seal.

Sipping tea and munching a slice of plain toast, Bertie tapped computer keys and composed a shipping label.  She then printed it out on a sticker, randomly selected a magazine (an old issue of Vanity Fair), sealed it in a mailing pouch, then slapped on the address label, together with a UPS tracking sticker.  She checked the clip of her Beretta, slid it into its holster, then clipped the holster to the belt of her shorts at the small of her back and under her jacket.  She then pocketed her phone and left the apartment/office, locking the door.

Bertie took a cab downtown, but got out early and walked the final block to Lady Arabelle's building.  With the casual confidence (and invisibility) or a courier doing her job, she rode the elevator to the thirty-seventh floor, then paused at the Arabelle Consulting Services front door.  "Courage to the sticking place," Bertie whispered under her breath... then turned the handle and opened the door.

The lobby beyond was empty.  "Lucky me," Bertie whispered.  She'd been prepared to smile at the receptionist—there was always a receptionist—deliver her "package," then beg to use the loo.  Once past the lobby, she'd skulk around until she found Kitty.  At the very least she's learn something of the layout.  Anyway, the receptionist being absent was a lucky break.  Bertie darted to one of the three doors leading off the lobby, cracked the door—empty hallway—and ducked through.

Bertie heard a sound behind her and caught the door just before it closed.  She watched a blonde in a business suit and sipping a cup of coffee step behind the receptionist's desk and ease into her chair.  One of the other doors was closing.

"I am lucky," Bertie smiled, then turned back around—"or not."  Two brunettes—two tall brunettes in leather dominatrix drag were approaching down the hallway.  "Hi!" Bertie said, waving her free hand.  "There was no one in the lobby and I need to use the loo, so..."

The brunettes had arrived.  They smiled down at Bertie.  "She's adorable," the left brunette said to the right.

"That she is," the right brunette agreed, then gestured down the hall.  "The washroom is this way."

"Thanks," Bertie answered.  "Uh, I'm sure I can find it myself if you have something else you need to—M'mmpfh!"

One of the brunettes had Bertie in a tight embrace from behind, pinning her arms to her sides.  The other was holding a white cloth against Bertie's mouth and nose!  The little blonde kicked and squirmed, but couldn't break free.  She dropped the fake package and tried to reach her Beretta, but the brunette was holding her too close, and the acrid, cloying chemical soaking the cloth and searing her nose and throat was making it difficult to concentrate—very difficult to concentrate—and it was getting hard to make her limbs work, and...

Bertie's blue eyes rolled up in her head and she went limp in her captor's arms.

The brunette loosened her hold and eased Bertie to the floor.  The other placed the cloth in a plastic bag and zipped it closed.  The Tops smiled down at Bertie's unconscious form.

Boots tapped and Lady Arabelle, herself, strolled down the hallway.  She joined her employees in smiling at the slumbering Bertie.

"She is the one, isn't she, Mistress?" one of the brunettes asked.

Arabelle nodded.  "She is, and she's adorable," Arabelle sighed.

"That's what I said," the other brunette chuckled.

"She's so cute in those shorts," the first brunette sighed.  "Just look at those knees."

"She looks like a little girl taking a nap," the other added.  "I can't wait to peel her out of that uniform.  I bet she has really cute toes... and tight buns."

"I just hope she has tits," the first brunette purred, "B-cups, at least."

"Well," Arabelle said, "there's no need to prolong the suspense.  Process her."

The End of...
Bondage, My Sweet		Chapter 5

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