||FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY WYNTER|
| by Van ©2011
|OUR STORY CONTINUES
Kitty opened her eyes. Darkness. Total darkness.
She was lying on a hard surface, bound and gagged and naked—Big surprise. Working by feel, she explored her condition.
Her hands were behind her back and her arms folded up in a stringent reverse-prayer. Her wrists, hands, and fingers were encased in tight leather mitts attached to some kind of harness. Kitty struggled, gathering more data. The harness encircled her torso, above her breasts and under her armpits, with a second strap pinning her arms to her side and double-anchoring the mitts between her shoulder blades. The arrangement also incorporated a collar buckled around her throat. Her ankles were locked together in leather cuffs, and her knees bound by a tight leather strap. A ball-gag with a thin strap anchored a rubber ball in her gaping mouth. "Mrrfh." Two inch, she diagnosed, semi-soft. Her hair was combed back and secured in either a bun or a braid folded back on itself.
And that was it... and it was enough. Kitty struggled a little more, maintaining the honor of the Female Detectives Club. It was expected. Ow! That's enough of that crap. She relaxed on the hard floor. Concrete... probably with a waterproof seal.
Suddenly, the overhead lights clicked on, a door opened, and Dominique entered.
Kitty blinked in surprise. She—now they—were in yet another of Arabelle's spartan playrooms. The furnishings appeared to be limited to a few rings and bracket mountings set in the walls, ceiling, and floor, and a couple of cabinets. The surprising part was Dominique. Gone were the tight, black, shiny leather knee boots and sheath-dress, and in their place were a pair of comfortable cross-trainers—black, skintight, Lycra bicycle-shorts (with significant camel toe action)—and nothing else. Her hair was combed back and confined in a tight bun.
The Kinky Exercise Togs version of Dominique was seriously hot. Smooth, brown skin—svelte, toned physique with well-defined muscles—eminently feminine curves—nice titties (not big, but firm and nice)—those incredible cheekbones and liquid, brown eyes... which, at the moment, were staring at Kitty over thinly compressed lips set in anger.
Kitty's stomach fluttered. Oh. Shit.
Without speaking, Dominique went to a cabinet and produced a heavy steel rod about three feet in length. Attached to one end was a small, curved, padded saddle. The rod snapped into a socket in the floor and Dominique hauled Kitty to her feet.
In short order, Kitty found herself bent over the saddle with the padding pressed against her lower abdomen, between her navel and pussy. Her legs were splayed with her ankles secured to rings set in the floor. A taut chain linked the back of her harness to the ceiling, preventing her upper body from dropping any lower. In opposition, the connecting chain of a pair of nipple clamps was linked to a ring in the floor, preventing her from rising. Kitty was stuck... and vulnerable... and she knew it.
As a final touch, Dominique attached a clip to a ring in Kitty's tightly coiled hair, pulled until Kitty had no choice but to lift her chin, then snapped the clip to the vertical chain.
Then, Dominique stepped out of Kitty's limited line of sight... she heard a cabinet open and close... and Dominique returned—Swish—swinging a flogger, a braided handle with twenty or more long, ribbon-like tails. Her face was still set in an angry frown.
It was obvious what was coming. Kitty squirmed, nervously, trying to ignore the tug on her stretched nipples and scalp. C'mon, Dom-baby... what's a little choke-hold between friends?
"I'm very disappointed in you, Kitty," Dominique growled.
Uh... if I said I was sorry? Groveling isn't out of the question.
Dominique gave the flogger another warmup swing. The tails rattled and swayed. "Tomorrow was going to be my last day as your trainer. The day after, Lady Arabelle, herself, was planning to take over for the final phase of your indoctrination. But now..." She swung the flogger, yet again. "You're back to square one, slave; and I wouldn't be surprised if Her Ladyship decides you remain a slave." She stepped behind her prisoner.
Kitty flinched. Dominique was caressing her buttocks with her free hand. This continued for several seconds, with Dominique sliding her hand back and forth and gently raking the taut globes of tan flesh with her nails. Kitty shivered in her bonds. She couldn't help herself, especially when Dominique extended her middle finger, slid it between Kitty's buttocks, and began rubbing her labia.
"Her Ladyship will make her own decision regarding your final disposition," Dominique purred. Her finger continued slowly frigging Kitty's pussy. "Perhaps she'll give you a second chance to qualify as a Top. Perhaps she'll make you a permanent pleasure-slave... or pain-slave. Mistress usually rotates the staff Bottoms between pleasure and pain, to give them time to heal, but in your case..." Her hand disappeared. "I want you to understand that what's about to happen is between me and you... with our Mistress' blessing, of course."
Wonderful. Kitty heaved a worried sigh. Surely she understands it was nothing personal. I had no choice but to—Whack!—"Mrrrrfh!"
Dominique had lashed Kitty's buttock with the flogger, and it wasn't a token smack.
And her thighs.
And her back.
"Don't worry, Kitty."
"I'm an expert."
"I won't break the skin."
"This can can go on for a very long time."
|| Chapter 6
Kitty was miserable.
Dominique had, indeed, thrashed her "for a very long time"; perhaps twenty minutes, though Kitty couldn't be sure. Finally finished, Dominique had left, leaving Kitty bent over the little saddle and still pinned in place by her nipples, ankles, harness, and hair.
The lights clicked off and Kitty was in the dark, both literally and with respect to her immediate future. Her butt, thighs, and back felt like they were on fire. Kitty sighed and shivered. The sweat raised by her ordeal was drying, even as the areas that had felt the caress of Dominique's flogger continued to burn.
And so... she waited.
An hour passed... at least an hour.
The lights clicked on and the door opened. Dominique had returned, and she had changed back into her usual attire, knee boots with stiletto heels and sheath dress, both in black leather. This dress incorporated a tight corset. Without saying a word, she released Kitty's hair, then strapped a blindfold over her eyes.
There was a pause... Kitty smelled a pleasant, floral aroma, then flinched as Dominique's hands slid over the taut skin of her rump. The Bitch was rubbing on some sort of ointment. It burned, at first... then soothed her no doubt pink, flushed skin. Kitty sighed, and shivered. Whatever the stuff was, it definitely helped. The ointment application and massage continued, enlarging to include Kitty's thighs and back.
"I'm sorry you made me punish you like that, Kitty," Dominique purred, in her husky, sexy voice. "You were a very naughty slave."
Hey, no problem, Kitty fumed. Just remember, what goes around... "Mrrrf!" Dominique's slick fingers had thoroughly coated Kitty's labia and were in the process of caressing her pussy, inside and out! And the stuff burned! Then, the burn faded and her pussy became all... tingly. Bitch!
Dominique cleaned her hands with a towel, then—Finally!—released Kitty from her bent-over pose. Soon, her encased hands still attached to the back of her harness in a reverse prayer, her upper arms still pinned to her sides, her leather cuffed ankles hobbled by a foot of chain, the ball-gag still in her mouth, the blindfold buckled over her eyes, and the clips still pinching her nipples... "Now," Dominique announced, "you're ready."
Ready for what? Kitty wondered.
The answer came immediately in the form of a leash being clipped to the chain connecting the nipple clamps—"Nrrrf!"—followed by a relentless pull as Dominique stepped off. Kitty's ankle chain rattled as she stumbled in her Mistress' wake.
Dominique set a demanding pace, ignoring Kitty's hobbled steps and directing their journey with tugs on the nipple leash. "Toes!" she ordered.
Kitty sighed through her gag and went up on tiptoe. Rattle-rattle-rattle... Tug—Ow! Left turn. Rattle-rattle-rattle... Tug—Ow! Right turn. Hard floor gave way to carpet. Rattle-rattle-rattle... Shove. Ow! Kitty's rump was planted in a chair of some sort. Then, additional straps tightened around her waist and lap, pressing her into the soft cushions. Next, her ankle cuffs were clipped to their respective chair legs and straps tightened around her knees, splaying her legs and leaving her sitting in a very unladylike pose.
Dominique unbuckled and removed her blindfold and Kitty blinked in the sudden light. She realized she was strapped to one of the visitor chairs in Lady Arabelle's office. Dominique was leaving through a side door. Kitty turned her head to examine the rest of the room, and—"M'mmpfh?"
Kitty's eyes popped wide in surprise and alarm.
|Bondage, My Sweet|| Chapter 6
Liesl Zirner was spreadeagled on Her Ladyship's desk—the big, granite, altar-like desk Kitty had noted upon her arrival in Arabelle's domain!
Liesl was naked and on her back, her wrists and ankles locked in thick, wide, close-fitting steel shackles linked by short lengths of heavy chain to the rings in the granite legs. The cold, gunmetal steel was enforcing a stringent stretch on the pale, freckled redhead's body. A strip of Elastoplast tape was plastered over her lips. She gazed at Kitty, blinking her hazel eyes.
Even more alarming, Bertie was tied to the other visitor chair!
Bertie was also naked—which was not surprising—and was roped to her chair by several yards of the thin, conditioned hemp that seemed to be standard at Lady Arabelle's. Wrists and elbows behind her back and the chair back—legs together and bound from big toes to thighs—wrists linked to toes in an under-the-seat, sitting hogtie—Bertie was tied up... in the sense that the Pacific is wet. Someone had gone ape-shit with the bondage, using several times the rope that would have been required to simply render her helpless and keep her in the chair. A mix of Western and Shibari techniques had been used, and Bertie's tan, freckled flesh (especially her boobies) bulged between the tight, well-cinched bands of hemp. Also, something substantial had been stuffed in Bertie's mouth and was being kept there by tight layers of vet-wrap, in a pretty shade of blue that matched her staring, frightened eyes.
Kitty sighed through her ball-gag. It was obvious what had happened. Bertie had tried to come to her rescue and got caught. It was possible Arabelle had lured her in, or even sent her Ninja-Dominatrix Minions to kidnap her, but Kitty's money was on a failed rescue attempt. What could Kitty say (figuratively). It wasn't like her end of the operation had been a spectacular success. Kitty could tell Bertie was frightened, but was managing to keep a stiff upper lip—a tape-compressed stiff upper lip. No need to make things worse by glaring at her. The little blonde had tried. You little moron. You adorable little moron.
Kitty turned back to Liesl, and this time she did glare. The helpless Fraulein gazed back, her expression neutral (and enigmatic). I'll deal with you later, Kitty promised. Obviously, inexplicable cattle-prod zappings aside, something hinky was going on. But whatever it was, on the personal side—You owe me a little distress, Kitty fumed, staring daggers at the little redhead. Assuming we all aren't 'sleeping with the fishes' or 'pushing up daisies' by nightfall.
The side door opened and Lady Arabelle entered her office. She was dressed as expected, in one of her expensive, tight, super-hot dominatrix outfits. All three captives watched as she strolled behind Kitty's chair and unbuckled her ball-gag. She re-secured the buckle on the first hole, then strolled to her throne-like chair behind the desk and sat.
The ball in Kitty's mouth was, indeed, two inches in diameter. The rubber was reasonably pliant, but it had been in her mouth for something like three hours—probably more. She pushed with her tongue, managed to open her aching jaws just a little wider... and finally, the ball popped from her mouth and flopped onto her chest, dangling like a piece of spectacularly unstylish costume jewelry. Kitty licked her lips and gazed at Arabelle.
Arabelle gazed back, a ghost of a smile curling her lips.
Kitty swallowed. Her throat was dry. "Uh," she croaked, "I suppose you're wondering—"
Arabelle silenced Kitty with a gesture, then turned in her chair to face the credenza and poured water from an insulated carafe into a glass. She walked around the desk and held the glass to Kitty's lips.
Kitty drank—Glug, glug, glug... The water was a cool, refreshing, and most welcome gesture. "Thank you, Mistress," Kitty muttered as Arabelle returned to her chair.
"Mistress," Arabelle chuckled. "You have a unique take on the Mistress/Slave dynamic, Kitty. I'm familiar with the 'Feisty Bottom' phenomenon—having a few clients who fall into the category—but this is the first time one of my Tops has been actually assaulted."
Kitty swallowed, again. Her gaze darted to Liesl, then back to Arabelle. "Uh..."
"Hold that thought," Arabelle continued, then shifted her gaze to Liesl. "This is your fault, isn't it liebschen?" she said in a teasing manner.
Liesl tugged on her steel bonds and gazed up at Arabelle, then closed her eyes and delicately shuddered as Arabelle caressed her abdomen... then began kneading her breasts.
"Naughty, careless little fox," Arabelle cooed, continuing her massage. "Look who followed you home!"
Kitty and Bertie exchanged a confused look. 'Followed you home?' Kitty wondered.
Continuing her teasing caresses (while Liesl continued to squirm), Arabelle gazed at Kitty. "You know that I'm aware that you're a detective, of course." She nodded at Bertie. "You and your charming partner. Once a few of my many friends informed me that you were snooping around, looking for Fraulein Zirner and sticking your pretty noses into my business..." She spun in her chair, opened a drawer in the credenza, and produced a photograph. It showed Kitty and Bertie walking down a city street, casually unaware that they were under surveillance. "I commissioned one of your competitors to do a little counter-snooping."
Kitty and Bertie exchanged a glance, again. They both remembered the occasion of the photo, and it was less than a week in the past.
"I was hired to look for a missing person," Kitty huffed, "not take down Arabelle Consulting Services."
Arabelle smiled. "I see. And Fraulein Zirner is missing... because?"
"Uh..." Kitty swallowed, nervously. "That wasn't in the file. I assumed I'd find out, once I found her. Her boyfriend was unavailable for an interview."
"You mean he's hiding behind a phalanx of lawyers. So, you don't know the reason for Liesl's supposed disappearance?"
"No," Kitty admitted. "I have the missing person report and the police case notes and that's it. The job was just to find her."
"Allow me to enlighten you," Arabelle purred. She returned the photo to the drawer, then smiled down at Liesl and resumed caressing her pale, freckled skin. "Liesl found herself in an abusive relationship. The so called 'boyfriend' fancied himself a Top, but from what my little liebschen has told me, he's just a narcissistic bully."
"This is hardly a women's shelter," Kitty noted.
Arabelle laughed. "Not in the conventional sense, but it's my establishment, and if I choose to take a talented and beautiful young lady under my wing..." Her left hand slid down Liesl's spreadeagled body, through her scarlet bush, and between her splayed legs to caress her pussy.
"Mrrrrf!" Liesl quaked in her bonds, and began to writhe.
"You know better than that, my little Füchsin," Arabelle chuckled. "Don't you dare cum without permission." She continued her massage of Liesl's pussy.
"Okay, so the boyfriend is an asshole," Kitty conceded. "All I wanted to know was if she was safe, and..." Kitty gazed at Liesl's naked, captive, writhing body. Very hot. "She seems to be in good hands."
"Good one," Arabelle chuckled. "Liesl and I hoped all of this would simply blow over, without incident; but the asshole in question seems determined to have his play-toy back." The frigging continued. "We've decided Liesl will go to the police, herself—with legal representation, of course. Mr. Asshole will soon find himself a lot less popular among the city's social elite. He may even find himself facing charges for filing a false police report. And Mrs. Asshole will probably file for divorce, taking him to the proverbial cleaners."
"Well..." Kitty squirmed in her bonds. The straps melding her to the chair creaked, ever so slightly. "I guess my work here is done."
Arabelle's smile turned slightly sinister. "Not quite. In the future, should similar circumstances arise, I want you to feel free to ask for an interview so we can politely discuss whatever topic is at hand. Understand?"
"Uh, yeah, sure... Mistress," Kitty conceded.
"I may be well connected and keep my finger on the city's pulse," Arabelle said, "but I'm not a trafficker in young women, Kitty, and I'm slightly offended that you should treat me like one."
"Okay," Kitty responded, "but in my defense—" She nodded at Bertie. "In our defense, we had no idea what was going on here—" She focused on Liesl's writhing form. "—with respect to Ms. Zirner. We knew about all the B-and-D stuff, of course." Kitty blushed. Arabelle was enjoying her discomfiture. "That's stating the obvious. Anyway, we certainly didn't know you were sheltering her. And you do have a reputation for zero tolerance of people messin' with your operation, not for gangster stuff. Discretion seemed... prudent."
Arabelle smiled (and Liesl writhed). "Let me be clear. I'm extending the hand of friendship, Ms. Wynter, to you and Ms. Finch. But first, I'm afraid we have to balance the books." She shifted her gaze to Liesl. "You may cum, liebschen."
Liesl moaned through her gag—"Mrrrrf!"—and went rigid in her bonds. Her muscles flexed and her smooth, freckled skin glistened with sweat. She shivered, and quaked—and finally relaxed against the polished granite. She panted through flaring nostrils, her pert breasts heaving and her hazel eyes smiling at Lady Arabelle.
Arabelle smiled back. "My little Füchsin," she purred, then reached out and peeled the Elastoplast from Liesl's lips. They locked eyes—then Arabelle leaned close and they kissed.
Kitty and Bertie locked eyes, as well, and shared a shrug.
The kiss went on and on, with Liesl tugging on her steel bonds, again. Then, Arabelle leaned back, stood, and produced a key from her cleavage. She walked around the desk, pausing at each corner to unlock a steel shackle.
Finally, naked and free, Liesl sat up on the desk.
"Go take a shower and get dressed, liebschen," Arabelle purred.
Liesl climbed off the desk, smiled at Kitty, then shifted her ever-so-slightly predatory gaze to Bertie. "May I play with them later, Mistress?" she inquired. Her English was perfect, with only a hint of an accent.
"Greedy little fox," Arabelle chuckled, and gave her rump a playful slap. Whack! "We'll see. Go."
Liesl giggled, scampered to the side door, and made her exit.
"In case it's not clear," Arabelle told Kitty as she stepped close to her chair, "Fraulein Zirner is that rarest of treasures, a talented Bottom and Top."
Kitty smiled. "The Chosen One? The one prophesied to bring balance to The Force?"
Arabelle laughed. "I like you, Kitty." She leaned close, until their lips were inches apart. "You're brave and feisty and very beautiful."
Kitty's heart was pounding. Arabelle's perfume was intoxicating. And then their lips met, and a thrill rippled through Kitty's crotch and up her spine. She glanced to the side and noted the amazed (and jealous) expression on Bertie's gagged face. Sorry, Bert.
Arabelle broke the kiss, stepped behind the chair, and the ball was back in Kitty's mouth. She tightened the strap, then stepped back in front and smiled down at Kitty. "Now, as to balancing the books... I know Dominique has already expressed her personal disappointment, so that only leaves my personal disappointment."
Kitty swallowed behind her gag, glanced at Bertie, then back to Arabelle.
"You'll both be going home tomorrow," Arabelle purred (much to her guests' relief), "but first... the books." She strolled to the side door. "As you said, I do have a reputation, and it must be maintained. You've abused my hospitality, Kitty. I want us to be friends, but debts must be paid. My accounting staff will be in, shortly."
Kitty and Bertie watched the door close, locked eyes, and sighed in unison.
|Bondage, My Sweet|| Chapter 6
Arabelle's "accounting staff," in the form of Dominique and one of the brunette Tops, appeared in a couple of minutes, as promised.
Kitty was unstrapped from the chair. Her bonds were now the same as when she entered the office, with the exception of the absent blindfold. Her handlers were allowing her to see where she was about to be led.
As for Bertie, she was released from the chair, but retained sufficient rope bondage to completely illustrate a rigger's how-to manual. Horizontal and diagonal hemp bands encircled her naked body from shoulders to toes. This required her to be carried on the shoulder of the unnamed brunette Top, who was more than up to the "challenge." With the little Brit's head to the rear, legs to the front, and naked, dimpled rump facing up, Bertie and her carrier led the way from the office.
Kitty was next, mincing along on her toes, and Dominique brought up the rear. After a few twists and turns, they arrived at their destination, yet another playroom.
Bertie was lowered into a steel cage. About three by four by three feet, it was what is known in the trade as a "puppy cage." There was a cushion on the floor, but the cramped dimensions forced Bertie to lie on her side in a near fetal tuck. The lid closed and a fist-sized, high security padlock clicked through the hasp.
Kitty was concerned for her partner, but most of her attention was focused on the middle of the room.
It was occupied by a sybian, a padded, barrel-shaped object with a palm-sized rubber saddle. This particular model was perched on a heavy wooden column and its overall height was something like three feet. The saddle featured ribbed pads and a thick, vertical, two-inch phallus.
Enough is enough! Kitty fumed. There's no way I'm letting them put me on that thing! I may be bound and hobbled, but I can still squirm and throw my weight around and—EEYOW! She'd forgotten about the nipple clamps.
Dominique had not. An infuriatingly smile curled her lips and the clamps' connecting chain was hooked in her right index finger. "Kitty is going to be a good slave." It was a statement, not a question.
Kitty nodded, blinking her eyes. The jolt of pain had faded, but her nipples still throbbed. She watched as the brunette Top opened a small tube and dribbled some lubricant on the stubby phallus. Dominique led Kitty to the sybian. The brunette knelt and released Kitty's hobbling chain, then put her arms around the captive's waist, hugged her tight, and and heaved her over the saddle.
At the same time, Dominique released the nipple chain, leaned close, and used both hands to part Kitty's labia. The brunette lowered Kitty the rest of the way onto the saddle and the phallus, then both handlers took a step back. "There," Dominique purred, crossing her arms over her chest. She watched as her colleague secured Kitty's ankle cuffs to rings set in the floor, then secured a vertical chain to the back of her harness, just above her shoulder blades.
Kitty was now perched atop the sybian, her legs splayed at full stretch and her upper body held erect. The phallus was inside her pussy and the pads cupped her labia, with one of them nudging her clitoris. The ankle cuffs prevented her from rising, and the vertical chain prevented her from slumping forward. She scowled at Dominique, not even trying to disguise her smoldering anger.
"Temper, temper," Dominique chuckled, then reached for Kitty's right nipple clamp. "Off they come. Brace yourself."
Kitty did just that. She knew about clip removal from experience—from both the nipples and fingers sides of the equation. Clip removal was always bad. Ouch! And this time was no exception. Despite her preparations, her eyes glazed and she flinched. Then, she locked eyes with Dominique. The left clamp was released—Ouch!—and this time Kitty controlled her reaction. Bitch! At least the clips were gone. Thanks... Bitch!
The other brunette left the room and Dominique pulled a flat, rectangular object from a slot in the front of the sybian. It was a touchscreen remote control, a little bigger than an iPhone. Kitty watched as Dominique tapped the screen—"Urk!"—then the captive flinched in her bonds, again.
The phallus was slooooowly sliding up and into her vagina, and both it and the pads of the saddle were delicately vibrating. It paused at full extension—something like six or seven inches, for six or seven seconds—then slooooowly slid down. And then it did it again... and again... and again... and showed no sign of stopping.
Kitty growled through her ball-gag, glared at Dominique, and continued shivering in her bonds.
Dominique grinned. "Over the next five or so minutes, that will gradually build to a nice, satisfying pussy-pounding—which will last for a full minute—and then stop." She slid the remote back into its slot. "A rest period of somewhere between a half-hour and an hour-and-a-half will follow. More than enough time for you to take a catnap, don't you agree, Kitty-cat?"
Kitty stared at Dominique and shivered in her bonds as the sybian did its work.
"And after your rest period," Dominique continued, "it all begins again. Lather, rinse, repeat." She spun on her heel and strolled to the door. "See you in the morning, Kitty... Bertie." The door closed, the lock turned, and most of the overhead lights clicked off.
A weak spotlight shone down on Bertie and her cage. A similar light illuminated Kitty and the sybian.
Kitty continued squirming and quivering. She wasn't fighting her bonds, she knew there was no point in that, but she found she couldn't not move. Bertie was gazing at with her with sad, blue eyes, reclined on her side, the shadows of the cage's bars striping her bound body. The junior partner was probably getting the better end of the deal, bondage-wise, but she was being forced to watch what was happening to Kitty.
Both captives heaved a sigh through their respective gags... then settled in for the long, uncomfortable wait for morning—and their promised release.
Kitty knew she probably wouldn't be getting much sleep... or Bertie, either.
The rate of penetration and intensity of vibration continued to build, as promised. Kitty stoically willed herself to ignore what was happening between her legs... with limited success.
I should have charged double for this job, Kitty mused.
|The End of...
|Bondage, My Sweet||Chapter 6|