| FROM THE CASE FILES OF
| by Van ©2014
|OUR STORY CONCLUDES
AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
SOMEPLACE IN NORTH AMERICA
The chamber had started out as a basement
storeroom, twenty feet by thirty feet with an unusually
generous ceiling height of twelve feet. After a thorough
cleaning, the concrete walls and ceiling were sealed and
painted flat black. Then, acoustic panels covered in
black fabric were installed to absorb sound. Next, a
grid for track lighting was bolted to the ceiling. The
chamber already had electrical power, but the service was
upgraded. Likewise with heating and air
conditioning. Finally, the floor was leveled and sealed
with epoxy, for ease of cleanup.
Suki had done most of the work herself, between kidnapping
operations and over the course of several months, finishing
more than a year ago. When practical, depending on the
task at hand, she'd labored either completely nude or in a
full bodysuit of skintight latex... and in chains, almost
always in chains. Why? Because it pleased her
Mistress, of course.
Actually, Dr. B considered the use of "slave labor" for
purposes of home renovation to be theatrical and rather
cliché, but obviously it pleased Suki to please her with
displays of her Captive Subservience (with a side of Brave
Defiance and a dash of Tragic Ennui), so who was she to say
no? Besides, the sight of Suki laboring nude in chains,
especially when her fair, smooth skin was all sweaty and her
black hair in damp disarray, a pout on her lips and batting
her big blue eyes... Cliché be damned! She was
Anyway, all of Suki's hard work (with Dr. B pitching in for
the heavy lifting) was to provide a suitable setting for the
star of the show: The Evil Chair of Doctor Bondage!
The chair in question had begun life as an adjustable surgical
couch designed to support patients in a variety of positions
for different surgical procedures. It was a bit of an
antique, dating to the fifties or sixties, and Dr. B had
gotten it for a song at auction. She cleaned and sanded
the steel frame, then sprayed on gunmetal-gray epoxy
paint. Ratcheting gears and worm-drives controlled by
small handwheels allowed for the repositioning and fine
adjustment of the chair's various elements, and the mechanisms
were all cleaned and lubricated. Finally, the chair's
padding was replaced by modern gel-pads covered in a
breathable, washable, dark brown fabric.
The final result was classic Mad Scientist, with none of the
Sci-Fi ambiance of most modern medical furniture. It was
also decidedly sinister, thanks to the plethora of medical
restraints and straps dangling from the chair's seat, back,
leg supports, foot stirrups, armrests, and headrest. All
were butternut leather with white leather padding.
Another Evil Villainess/Mad Scientist/Depraved Doctor might
have gone with black-on-black-on-black, but Dr. B liked the
look of classic butternut restraints on a naked damsel, and it
was her chair, her lair, and her choice.
And speaking of naked damsels...
Suki was comfortably reclined on her back in the chair.
Its various elements were locked in "Gynocological Exam" mode,
leaving her legs lewdly splayed with her knees bent and her
bare feet in the steel stirrups. Padded cuffs were
around her ankles, and straps buckled tight just below her
knees and across her thighs. More straps secured her
waist and passed above and below her breasts. Her arms
were raised and bent at the elbow with her wrists in cuffs and
straps securing her forearms and biceps. Finally, a
padded collar encircled her neck and a narrow strap crossed
her forehead. Together they pinned her head to the
headrest. A ball-gag with a butternut strap and a
two-inch sphere of white silicon rubber filled her mouth and
was buckled tight enough to make her cheeks bulge. All
the straps were tight enough to dimple her pale flesh and all
the buckles incorporated spring-loaded catches that required
the use of two hands to release.
Sensor-pads with long, thin wires trailing away into the
darkness were adhered to Suki's temples, both sides of her
throat, over her heart, and over her femoral arteries.
Spotlights bathed her pale, glistening skin in white
light. The air was humid and hot, but that wasn't the
only cause of her sweaty, flushed condition. Her eyes
were squeezed tightly closed and her mouth grimaced as she bit
into her ball-gag. Her nostrils flared, and her breasts
heaved as much as her stringent bonds would allow. There
was a cause for all of that as well.
Mounted on a wheeled pedestal clamped to the chair frame and
running in a metal track on the floor was a machine. It
had a dozen or so tongue and finger-sized pads, all clad in
translucent latex and mounted to the ends of articulated,
robotic steel arms. Some of the pads were studded with
rounded bumps and some with soft bristles. And at the
moment, several of the pads were pressed and vibrating against
Suki's upper thighs, lower tummy, and pink, moist labia.
Other pads, also vibrating, were in motion, slowly caressing
the pale skin between the stationary pads. It was a
complex mechanical dance, with the arms and pads shifting
positions and changing roles. Sometimes only a few of
the arms were in gliding motion, and sometimes only a few were
pressing against Suki's sweaty, quivering flesh.
There was no penetration.
Suki's panting moans and the quiet whirring of the machine
were the only sounds in the chamber.
Suddenly, all of the tiny robotic arms retracted into their
housings with a series of quiet clicks and clacks. Then,
the entire machine pulled back, rolling away from the chair
about four feet and locking in its track with a click.
The chamber's steel door opened and Dr. Bondage entered.
Suki gazed at her Mistress and heaved a gagged sigh.
Dr. B had been poolside, basking in the sun in a very skimpy,
peach-pink string bikini and sipping a mojito, but she'd taken
the time to don sandals and a white lab coat before coming to
visit her beloved Suki. The coat was unbuttoned,
revealing the evilly smiling doctor's underlying costume, as
well as a great deal of tan, smooth skin shining with
sunscreen. She smiled down at Suki for several seconds,
letting her gaze travel over the helpless prisoner's heaving,
glistening breasts and erect nipples, flat tummy, black pubic
thatch, pale thighs, and rosy-pink labia. She then
released the forehead strap, followed by the ball-gag.
Dr. B hung the gag on a convenient hook mounted on the side of
the headrest, then strolled to the area between Suki's splayed
legs and the retracted machine. "Well?" she
inquired. "That's two hours."
Suki licked her lips before answering. "I think it
actually works," she croaked.
"Hold that thought," Dr. B chuckled, then went back to the
hallway and returned pushing a stainless steel lab cart.
Among the many things on the cart, most of which Suki couldn't
see very well from her reclined position, was a large
laboratory beaker holding a bottle of sports drink nestled in
crushed ice. Suki smiled as Dr. B opened the bottle,
then held it to her lips so she could drink. "Thanks,"
Suki sighed. "Anyway, it works."
Dr. B and her assistant had an ongoing research project in the
science of doing nasty but pleasurable things to helpless
naked women. Suki wanted to call the field "DiDology,"
the scientific study of Damsels-in-Distress, but Dr. B argued
that term was far too general and at the very least they
should use "Applied ErotoDiDology." However, she didn't
really like that either. It was sufficiently pompous,
but she didn't like it.
Suki's other two suggestions had been (1) "Diddlology," which
had made Dr. B laugh and earned the little Goth a
spanking, and (2) "Gwendolinology," which was far too
inside-the-game. What they needed was just the right
Greek or Latin translation of the Damsel-in-Distress
concept. They agreed they would kidnap an attractive
female classicist at their first opportunity. Anyway,
the naming of the new discipline was a work in progress.
The main work in progress, however, was the development of a
machine that could diddle a damsel for extended periods of
time without bringing her to orgasm. In other words, an
Engine of Frustration, or "EoF." Of course, it was more
a System of Frustration. Several things had to
come together to insure the damsel didn't cum.
Specifically, sensors had to collect data on the damsel's
state of arousal, the vibrating pads on the robotic arms had
to do arousing things, and software had to coordinate
everything. And to make the EoF really work, an
artificial intelligence capable of machine learning had to be
in charge. It was not a trivial task, and they'd been at
it for some time.
The Sybian they'd used to "entertain" Helena Garrett had been
a stripped down version of EoF 1.0, without biometric feedback
sensors and with a thrusting dildo and simple vibrating
pads. It relied on extended rest periods to frustrate
its subject. That said, the software coordinating the
action of the shaft and vibrators was rather sophisticated,
and Suki was the code-monkey responsible.
Their latest EoF—the machine at the end of the floor-track
between Suki's legs and patiently waiting to get back to
work—included the fearsome Mechanical Beast-of-Many-Arms,
Suki's fully mature control code, Dr. B's latest biometric
sensor refinements, and Suki's third generation coordinating
"Seriously," Suki sighed. "It works. I didn't cum
once. As soon as I come close, pun intended, the machine
"And it didn't just repeat the same subroutines over and
over?" Dr. B asked.
"No," Suki answered. "And I was looking for that.
The combinations of pad activity, intensity, and duration
never seemed to repeat. I need to study the session
logs, but I think it works!"
"You didn't cum?" Dr. B purred, "not even once?"
"Not even once," Suki sighed. "That cusp-of-cumming
biometric saddle-point you talked about seems to be
real. It really could tell when I was close."
Dr. B smiled. "Excellent. Well, I guess we've had
a successful trial." She turned to face the lab cart,
snapped on a pair of latex gloves, then turned back to the
chair and spritzed alcohol on Suki's crotch. She then
used a small white towel to scrub the test subject's labia,
thighs, and lower tummy, including her pubic bush.
Suki gasped at the sensation of the cool alcohol, sighed as
Mistress cleaned her nether region, then watched Dr. B turn
back to the cart. "If you'd just let me go I could take
a shower," she suggested with a grin. She knew that
wasn't going to happen, but asking was part of the game.
Her eyes popped wide and the grin disappeared when Dr. B
turned back with a small aerosol can in one hand, a stainless
steel safety razor in the other, and a truly evil smile
curling her lips. "Beebe!" Suki complained. "You
just shaved me!"
"Three months ago," Dr. B chuckled. "You've grown back
completely." She nodded towards Suki's pubic
thatch. "I could tie bows in that stuff."
Suki tried her most pitiful pout, even though she knew it was
pointless. "I thought you liked my curlies," she whined.
"Oh, I do," Dr. B admitted, "but I've found this new shaving
cream... with menthol and pepper oils."
Suki's eyes popped even wider. "P-pepper oils?"
"Five varieties of pepper oil," Dr. B confirmed as she
spritzed a generous clump of cream onto her left palm.
"It's a new product by a small company that specializes in
essential oils and perfumes. Their chief research
scientist shares many of our interests." She smiled at
the fluffy mass of cream. "Look, it's pink. It
must have a lot of pepper oil." She shifted her
smile back to Suki. "She warned me not to get any of it
on sensitive skin."
"Beebe!" Suki whined, squirming in her inescapable bonds.
Dr. B's smile turned even more evil. Suki only used her
real name, Beebe, when she was really upset... or aroused.
"Nooooo!" Suki gasped. Dr. B had applied the cream to
her pubic area, including her labia! "Beebe!" She
watched as Mistress used the towel to clean her glove, then
strolled to the head of the chair. "It burns," Suki
"But only a little," Dr. B purred, "correct?"
"It's not too bad," Suki admitted, then shivered in
distress. "W-wait! It's getting
wrrrz—Nrrrf!" The ball-gag was back in her mouth and Dr.
B was buckling the strap as tight as before.
"Mrrrf!" Suki continued complaining and squirming as
Mistress buckled the forehead strap in place, pinning her head
in place, once again.
"Yes," Dr. B chuckled as she strolled back to the area between
Suki's legs, "it takes a minute or so for the full intensity
to develop." She pulled the razor from her lab coat
pocket. "I better get that nasty stuff off of there,
don't you agree?"
Suki's wide-eyed distress and violent struggles suggested she
very much agreed.
Dr. B set about shaving Suki's crotch with slow, methodical
strokes, using the towel to wipe cream from the razor as she
worked. She knew that some of the oils in the pink fluff
would remain behind on Suki's pale, smooth skin. She'd
already tested the cream on herself before using it on her
precious partner. She hadn't shaved herself, of
course. Personally, Dr. B preferred a clearly defined
but luxuriant pubic bush. However, she had let a
generous dab of cream sit on her labia for a full hour.
It had burned, of course, but it wasn't that bad. The
burning sensation quickly became a slowly fading tingle
something like a sunburn. The last remnants of the burn
were with her still—even as she carefully dragged the
exquisitely sharp razor across Suki's quivering flesh—even
though she'd wiped the cream from her own labia hours ago,
well before before she buckled Suki to the chair for their
"I also have a vial of the same mix of oils," Dr. B announced
as she used the towel to brush away the last of the cream from
Suki's defoliated crotch. "If you don't mind, I'll paint
a layer on your nipples. Then, we'll see if you can go
two more hours without cumming."
Suki screamed through her gag and fought the chair's bonds
with all her strength, but it was pointless.
"Nrrrf!" Mistress had returned the towel to the lab cart
and was dipping a small paintbrush in a clear vial of ruby-red
liquid. Suki knew she was really in for a hard time, and
there was nothing she could do about it—and her pussy
continued to smolder. She was almost surprised there
wasn't steam and/or smoke drifting into the hot, humid air
from between her legs. "M'mmmmmpfh!" Her pathetic
struggles were useless, both physically and as interpersonal
When Beebe is in one of her moods, the Prisoner of the
Chair mused, there's no reasoning with her.
still wearing the same bikini and lab coat. As she
entered her home office (which Suki referred to as her "Lair
of Lairs"), the shaving of Suki's crotch and anointment of her
nipples with titillating oils was an hour in the past.
She settled into her very expensive and comfortable executive
office chair, kicked off her sandals, then leaned back and put
her bare feet up on the desk. She then stretched,
lifting her arms over her head and pointing her
toes—"Eyaaah!"—then leaned forward and retrieved an iPad from
She tapped and slid her finger across the iPad and the
sixty-five inch, wall-mounted touch screen across the office
glowed to life and displayed an orderly array of folders and
icons. She tapped an icon and several windows
popped. The largest was a live video feed of Suki on the
Evil Chair. The EoF was doing its thing between the
flushed, sweaty, squirming, and helpless test subject's
splayed legs, halfway through the second two hour session the
Evil Doctor Bondage had promised before abandoning her to the
mercy of the machine. Neighboring windows displayed
graphs and tables of scrolling numbers. If the oils on
Suki's crotch and nipples were still having any effect, Beebe
couldn't tell from the raw data. She'd have to ask Suki
herself, later. The pattern recognition programs they
used to analyze their data might shed some light as well.
Beebe smiled. Suki was a sight to behold. When her
bonus session was over, Beebe would take the precaution of
locking a steel chastity belt around the little Goth's waist
and between her legs. This particular model incorporated
steel thigh bands connected by a short chain that prevented
the wearer from separating her legs and reaching under the
margins of the pussy-shield. It was an outstanding
countermeasure for unauthorized masturbation. Just what
the Doctor ordered.
And tonight, after dinner and a "relaxing" evening of reading,
movie and/or TV watching, and Suki eating her Mistress' pussy
a few times, Beebe would remove the belt and return the favor,
and Suki would finally get to cum. Beebe's smile
broadened, Suki was always such a grateful little bunny when
that happened. That was why Pussy-on-a-Diet was one of
their favorite games—although, at this very moment, she knew
"favorite" was probably not the way Suki would describe the
Beebe tapped the iPad and the video and data windows reduced
in size and migrated to form a vertical stack on the left-hand
margin of the giant screen. More tapping and gliding
followed as Beebe checked her email and text messages,
monitoring the various buffered data streams by which she
communicated with her professional (meaning criminal)
She learned that the matter of Charles Carson was now before a
federal grand jury. The man was an idiot. She'd
told him there was always a possibility Helena Garrett might
be rescued early, and he'd agreed that she'd be paid in full,
That said, Beebe knew she had made serious mistakes—at least
three: (1) She underestimated by half the amount of time
it would take for Bertie to free her partner. (2) She
assumed they would call the police immediately, which would
have added the complication of bringing the authorities up to
speed, canvasing the building's residents, talking a judge
into issuing search warrants, etc. That alone should
have more than compensated for the early escape of the
detectives. (3) She also underestimated Kitty and
Bertie's intelligence. Their rapid discovery of the safe
room dungeon was remarkable.
Beebe called up photos of Helena, Kitty, and Bertie
Bondage delighted in turning beautiful women into
Damsels-in-Distress, and that included inescapable bondage,
but her sense of sport required there being more than a
glimmer of hope that they'd escape. In this case, the
delicious little Brit had been the designated escape clause
for the coterie of captives.
She focused on Bertie's image. She must have been
magnificent, Beebe thought, squirming around the
apartment, looking for Suki's gift, the knife that was their
only chance to get free before being discovered hours, if
not days, later—not knowing I'd be sending a message
to the police to come rescue them and the four-eyed lawyer
the morning of the third day. Magnificent.
Anyway, lesson learned. Next time—not that any future
operation would be a copy of the past—Beebe would insist on
tighter control of all elements of the timeline.
Hmm... we could have left the knife overhead,
Beebe mused, suspended from a string with a classic melting
ice release mechanism. That way, all the
detectives could have done would be to squirm in their
bonds, stare up at the dripping ice... and wait.
Delicious. She opened an iPad app and made an
entry, reminding herself to design an experimental protocol
for the development of a reliable ice-timer.
It was a pity they couldn't have brought either Bertie or
Kitty back with them for more fun, but Dr. B never, ever
brought damsels to any of her several lairs. Her
kidnapping escapades were already dangerous.
Transporting bound and gagged women great distances, then
making sure they were released unharmed with absolutely
nothing in their memories or on their bodies that might lead
the police back to the lair in question? That was too
great a risk. The kidnappings themselves were enough of
an indulgence. In any case, Kitty Wynter was far too
dangerous to keep as a pet, and she could tell it would have
crushed Bertie's spirit to be separated from her
partner. She closed the windows with Helena. Kitty, and
Beebe's gaze returned to the still active video window of
Suki's suffering. The EoF might actually be working at
long last, as Suki claimed, but the pale little Goth was a
sample of one. Beebe herself would be the EoF's second
"victim" sometime next week, but they'd agreed that additional
test subjects were required.
For that reason, the next phase of their research protocol
would be to develop an easily portable version of the
Beast-of-Many-Arms, perhaps with fewer robotic arms and with
clamps and suction cups so the device could be mounted to a
chair, table, or any convenient hard surface and easily
removed after diddling (meaning not quite
diddling) a test subject. The sensors were already
portable, and the control software and A.I could be run in
whole or in part on a powerful laptop or over the
internet. Yes, field trials were the answer, and Dr. B's
clients need never know their revenge plots were aiding
And speaking of clients...
Beebe opened a
series of folders, popping windows that displayed summaries of
proposals sent to Dr. Bondage by various brokers and
contacts. None were time sensitive and all would pay
handsomely. Prominent in each window was a photo of the
proposed kidnap victim. All met Beebe's most important
criteria: (1) they were beautiful, (2) they were over
the age of eighteen, and (3) they were beautiful.
first file was that of a Chicago lawyer, the wife of
a corrupt politician. She was a brunette with
brown eyes. Beebe tapped the iPad and the
window became a slideshow of surveillance photos of
the lawyer in question. According to the file
summary she was as strong and intelligent as she was
beautiful. Yes, she'd be quite a catch, but
Beebe had had her fill of lawyers... for the moment.
closed the file.
next file was another brunette, and she was
beautiful, indeed. A former NCIS agent, she
had both Israeli and American citizenship and was
currently living in Israel... which was a
problem. Conducting an operation in the state
of Israel was possible, but risky. Getting in
and out of the country could be difficult.
Beebe started the slideshow of different images of
the target... and smiled. A juicy target, to
be sure. Maybe she'd return to the states at
tapped the iPad, flagging the file for future study.
was a forensic anthropologist on the staff of the
Jeffersonian Institute in D.C. She was the
wife of an FBI agent and together they'd sent quite
a few criminals to prison. She was a certified
genius, the unquestioned leader in her field, and a
bestselling author. The file also mentioned
that she was something of a nerd, absolutely
stunning, but socially awkward. Beebe
smiled. The prospect of "entertaining" a
fellow scientist, especially one so beautiful, was
intriguing. She might appreciate the
brilliance of Beebe's EoF research—on an
intellectual level, anyway.
anthropologist's file was also flagged.
then there was the Chief Medical Examiner of the
state of Massachusetts. She had honey-blond
hair, a round, laughing face, and dancing
eyes. Her best friend was a Boston P.D.
homicide detective, and the client would pay a
handsome bonus if they were taken together.
Beebe found a photo of the friends side by side at a
crime scene and her smile widened. Both women
Yes, this file had definite
possibilities. It was also flagged.
Beebe heaved a sigh. There was no shortage of either
potential clients or kidnap victim/test
subject/playthings. She closed all the folders and
returned the video of Suki and the scrolling data to full
prominence. "Later," she muttered under her
breath. I'm on vacation, she reminded
herself. I'll worry about the next case later.
Suki squirmed and writhed in her bonds. By this time,
her pale skin was dripping with sweat and she was panting
nonstop, with her breasts heaving between the straps.
Her shining, gagged, gorgeous face grimaced in
Beebe considered either cutting the second session short or
making a visit to hydrate the test subject with more sports
drink. No, she decided. Suki would never
forgive her if she interrupted the session. Besides,
Suki would have her revenge when Beebe was the one strapped to
Smiling at the erotic spectacle on the screen, Beebe slid her
hand under her bikini bottom, and slowly, gently, began
stroking her pussy—even as the Beast-of-Many-Arms continued
stroking and vibrating Suki's pussy—as it had for the last
three hours—as it would for a fourth and final hour.
|The End of...
|A Kiss Before Tying