Kitty Wynter

  A Kiss Before Tying by Van ©2014

  Chapter 3



Kitty followed in the footsteps of her partner, taking the subway to Helena's building.  The smiling security drone manning the lobby desk checked her ID and explained that Helena had already called down to clear her visit.  She flashed a dazzling smile and thanked him.  Either Bertie or herself would be working with the staff when they got around to checking the entire building, so she might as well turn on the charm.  Kitty could practically feel the guy's eyeballs on her leather-clad rump as she headed for the elevator.  No big deal.  She knew she was hot and was used to being ogled.

The elevator doors opened on Garrett's floor, she sauntered down the hallway to the appropriate apartment, and rang the buzzer.  Seconds passed... then the door opened to reveal a tall, stunning blond in an expensive black dress.

"Detective Wynter?" the blond inquired.

Kitty nodded.  This wasn't Helena Garrett.  From her research Kitty knew their client was a brunette with glasses.

"Please come in," the blond said, stepping back and making a welcoming gesture.  "I'm Ms. Garrett's associate."

"I see," Kitty said, took a few steps into the apartment—and froze.

Across the room, Bertie was sitting on a couch to the left of an unknown Goth female with black hair.  And on the Goth's right sat Helena.

Helena was fully clothed in a power suit and high heels, tape-gagged, and bound hand and foot.  Microfoam tape, Kitty noted, Plasti-cuffs on her ankles, and hands behind her back.

Bertie, on the other hand, was naked.  She was also tape-gagged and bound hand and foot, but her rigger had gone a little bat-shit with the bondage.  Silver duct-tape banded Bertie's body from just below her boobs to her ankles and feet.  The coverage was thorough but well short of mummification, as there was a great deal of Bertie skin on display; however, there was a bondage-for-bondage's-sake vibe to her condition.  Bertie's tape-gag was also duct-tape, but was unlike Helena's single strip of Microfoam in that the little Brit's gag completely encircled her head, covering her lower face from just below nostrils to under her chin.  Her flushed and freckled cheeks bulged above the tight, silver tape and her blue eyes were locked with Kitty's.

The Goth, smiling a gloating, infuriating smile, was holding a compact Taser against the side of Bertie's skull.  The threat was obvious.

"Hands up, Detective," the blond ordered.

Kitty turned her head—her muscles tensing as she prepared to strike—and she froze, again.

The blond had taken a couple of steps back and to the side, just out of spin-kick range, and had a G26 Glock trained on Kitty's torso.  From the way she handled the compact handgun, Kitty surmised she was familiar with firearms.

"I misspoke earlier when I said I was an associate of Helena's," the blond purred.  "I'm actually her kidnapper."

"Hey, me too," the Goth said with mock petulance.

"Of course you are, darling," the blond laughed.  Her eyes never left Kitty.  "Allow me to introduce myself.  I'm Doctor Bondage, and this is my charming and beautiful assistant, Suki."

"Doctor Bondage?" Kitty drawled.  "Where's your costume?"


"Every supervillain needs a costume," Kitty explained.  "Otherwise, she's just a crook with delusions of grandeur."

"I think she just insulted you, Dr. B," Suki chuckled.

"I choose not to take offense," Dr. B purred.  "Toss your piece over there," she ordered, pointing to the floor between herself and the couch with her free hand.  "Slowly, using two fingers."

Kitty lifted the back of her jacket and eased her Glock from the holster, between her thumb and forefinger, then tossed it away as ordered.

"And now your backup piece," Dr. B ordered.

Her left arm raised, Kitty slowly crouched until she could reach her boot, eased the compact handgun in question from her right boot top, and tossed it next to her Glock.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Detective," Dr. B said.  "I know my assistant would hate being forced to zap your delightful partner in her clever little brain."

Suki frowned.  "I would?"  Her smile returned.  "Oh yeah, I would."

"Strip," Dr. B ordered.

Kitty stared the proverbial daggers at the gloating blond.  "Strip?"

"Every stitch," Dr. B confirmed, "and slowly.  Try anything and—"

"Zap-zap!" Suki giggled.

"Sidekicks shouldn't interrupt," Dr. B purred.

Kitty eased out of her jacket and tossed it away, in the opposite direction from her weapons.  There was always a chance she could somehow turn the tables on their captors and didn't want to find herself groping for either weapon under a pile of clothing.  "Minion," she stated.

Dr. B raised an eyebrow in question.

"If you're a supervillain, she's a minion," Kitty explained as she pulled her top over her head.  "Superheroes have sidekicks.  Supervillains have minions."

"Point taken," Dr. B chuckled.

Kitty unzipped and eased her boots from her feet, first the right, and then the left.  They were her most weapon-like articles of clothing, but Dr. B was on full alert.  Trying for a shoe throw wouldn't work.  Kitty tossed the boots aside, then unzipped and pulled down her leather pants.  She peeled them down her legs, stepped clear, and they joined the pile.  Only her thong and tank-top remained.  Kitty removed both—slowly, as ordered—and she was completely nude.

"Hubba-hubba," Suki chuckled.

"Indeed," Dr. B agreed.  "Put your hands atop your head and give us a slow, graceful pirouette."

Kitty heaved a sigh.  She couldn't help herself.  Glowering in anger and humiliation, Kitty spun on her heels, slowly, as ordered.

"Magnificent," Dr. B sighed.

"I'll stick with hubba-hubba," Suki said with a grin.

Dr. B took a step to the side, picked up two coils of hemp rope draped over the arm of an easy chair, and tossed them to the carpet at Kitty's feet.  The Glock 's aim never wavered.  "Ankles crossed," she ordered, "and make it tight.  Then bind your arms to your sides, also tight."

With her ankles crossed and arms pinned to her sides, table turning would be virtually impossible, but Kitty had no choice but to obey.  She sat on her butt, picked up one of the coils of rope, and set to work.  She noted it was conditioned, six-millimeter, three-twist hemp, with the ends whipped with cotton thread.  The good stuff, Shibari grade.  Kitty glanced at Bertie, and the little Brit sighed through her gag and rolled her eyes in exasperated resignation.  Kitty rolled her eyes as well, then crossed her ankles and set to work.

Kitty doubled the rope, found the center, and tightened a lark's head loop around her ankles.  She expended about two-thirds of the remaining rope with followup wraps, cinched the rest between her ankles a couple of times to tighten everything down, then tied off the ends with a square knot.  She then found the center of the second coil, dropped a doubled loop over her shoulders and arms, tightened the loop with the rope below her breasts and above her elbows, pulled out the slack, flipped another turn over her head and shoulders, and pulled it taut as well.  Tying the ends off with her upper arms pinned to her sides was difficult but far from impossible.

Having finished rendering herself semi-helpless, Kitty dropped her hands to her sides and gazed at Bertie, again.  The adrenelin rush of her capture having passed, Kitty reflected on their collective situation.  They'd both screwed the proverbial pooch and were in for a bad time, and how bad of a time she strongly suspected they were about to find out.
A Kiss Before Tying  meow
 Chapter 3
Nikki Braslow, Detective, NYPD, was sitting in her car in the parking lot of One Police Plaza.  She pulled out her phone and speed-dialed her sister.Nikki Braslow

Kirsten answered on the third ring.  "Hey, sis.  What's up."

"I'm on my way back from the RTCC," Nikki explained.  "I called in a favor and one of the analysts did an intel sweep on everything we've got on your lawyer friend's case.  As I feared, there's not enough to work with."

"Oh, just as well," Kirsten said.  "I talked Helena into hiring Kitty Wynter.  Sorry, I meant to call you."

"You meant to call me," Nikki muttered in exasperation.  "I stroll into the Real Time Crime Center, swinging my hips and batting my eyes, and agree to have drinks with a geek who's been trying to get in my pants for a year, and you've already foisted this time waster off on your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Kirsten huffed.

"I've got real cases waiting at the precinct, remember?" Nikki said.  "Next time, call your girlfriend before you call me, okay?"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Kirsten snapped.

Nikki's smile returned.  She loved rattling her big sister's cage.  "Are we still on for Sunday after next?"

Kirsten sighed.  "Yes, but who knows, even that far out.  I'm buried in work."

"Tell me about it," Nikki chuckled.  "I'll bring the wine.  Red or white?"

"Red," Kirsten answered.  "I'm making pot roast.  Have fun with your horny analyst geek.  Bye."

The phone went dead before Nikki could think of a snappy comeback.  Big sister liked rattling her cage as well.  She hoped the P.I. had better luck with the Garrett case than she'd had.  "At least Kitty Wynter will get paid to spin her wheels," Nikki muttered to herself as she backed out of the space.
A Kiss Before Tying  meow
 Chapter 3
It was obvious this "Dr. Bondage" chick knew her way around a hank of rope.  In fact, Kitty strongly suspected she was an experienced Shibari mistress.  It was noteworthy, a line of future investigation for after Kitty got free and together with Bertie could start doing whatever it took to put this supervillain wannabe and her cute little minion behind bars.

The blond had unzipped and removed her dress, draped it over a chair, then kicked off her heels.  Kitty surmised this was for freedom of motion.

Now wearing nothing but a lacy black bra, panties, garter belt, and nude nylons, she walked a slow circle around Kitty's naked ankle and arm-bound form, like a painter eying a blank canvas or a sculptor studying a block of marble.  Kitty eyed her back.  Adversarial relationship aside, she had to admit the blond was easy on the eyes, very easy on the eyes.  Dr. B then carried a black nylon duffel behind Kitty's back, dropped it on the carpet, unzipped the main compartment, and pulled out a coil of hemp.

Over the next several minutes, Kitty's wrists, arms, and torso were tied up—an understatement worthy of Bertie at her most English.

Dr. B executed an elaborate box-tie of the reverse-prayer variety, leaving Kitty's crossed wrists pinned against her spine just below her shoulder blades.  Multiple horizontal bands passed above and below her breasts, replacing the rope Kitty had used to bind her own upper arms at her sides.  More rope formed a diamond harness that further pinned her arms and created an elaborate, symmetrical, very tight web from her shoulders to her crotch.  And speaking of Kitty's crotch, an equally elaborate hip harness encircled her waist and upper thighs and crisscrossed her lower tummy.  All of the elements—box-tie, diamond harness, and hip harness—were a unified whole, with various strands hitched together and periodically anchored with decorative rosette knots.  All of the free ends of all of the rope coils expended were tightly wound around the various vertical runs and knotted, leaving no excess rope and no knots even remotely within the reach of Kitty's fluttering, useless fingers.

Kitty was impressed—and helpless.  Another understatement.

Curiously, in Kitty's opinion, the hip harness didn't included a true crotch-rope.  No hemp strands, knotted or otherwise, cleaved or squeezed her labia.  Also, except for her self imposed ankle bonds, Kitty's legs were otherwise free.  It was strange.  Why go all artsy-schmartsy from the hips up, but do nothing with my legs? Kitty wondered.  'Less-is-more' is all well and good, but Dr. B strikes me as a 'more-is-more' kind of rigger.

Dr. B rolled Kitty onto her back and bound arms, then straddled her body and settled a portion of her weight on Kitty's lower tummy.  Eyes locked with Kitty's, she addressed her minion.  "Suki darling, I think you know what I need."

Suki was still on the couch between Helena and Bertie.  All three had watched Dr. B's Shibari demonstration with rapt attention.  "Right away, Dr. B," she answered, leaped to her booted feet, and headed for Helena's bedroom.  Helena and Bertie watched her go, then turned back to the floor show.

Dr. B smiled as she used her fingers to comb Kitty's tousled hair from her glowering face.  "You're very beautiful, Detective Wynter," she purred.  "Your exquisite body is toned and athletic, and you have equally exquisite features."  She cupped Kitty's breasts and gave them a firm squeeze.

The "exquisite features" in question telegraphing simmering anger, Kitty squirmed under her captor's weight and shrugged her rope-yoked shoulders as best she could.  "Keep your hands to yourself," she growled.

"No, I think I'll keep them right here," Dr. B chuckled.  She continued kneading Kitty's breasts and toying with her now erect nipples.  "Simply beautiful," she sighed.

Suki returned with two pairs of panties dangling between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand.

Dr. B favored her minion with a wry smile.  "Dirty?" she inquired.

"From the bottom of the hamper," Suki confirmed.  "I don't like her."

"You're just jealous," Dr. B chuckled.  "How sweet.  She's a plaything, darling.  Nothing more."

Suki shrugged, dropped the panties on the carpet, then slid the duffel closer and knelt with her knees on either side of Kitty's head.

Kitty didn't bother protesting or making pointless threats, and she certainly didn't beg.  However, she did resist, and Suki had to clamp her nose and chin and pry her jaws far enough apart for Dr. B to stuff the panties into her mouth.  They were a tight fit, but once the bulk of the first pair was past her lips, the grinning blond could force the second pair and tamp the protruding folds of lace and whisper-thin fabric in place without difficulty.  Kitty's oral cavity was more or less filled to capacity.  Next, Suki gathered and held her hair while Dr B's right hand made sure the panties remained in place.

Working in concert, the smug blond and equally smug Goth used a narrow roll of cotton gauze to cleave Kitty's overstuffed mouth.  Next, a broad strip of Microfoam was stretched and plastered over her cleaved and bulging mouth.  Then, a compression bandage was wrapped tightly around Kitty's head, effectively mummifying her lower face.  This was followed up with band after tightly wound band of the same silver duct-tape binding and gagging Bertie.  Suki had continued holding Kitty's hair during most of the process, and few if any of the brown strands were trapped under the layers of her gag.  Finally, Dr. B and Suki both sat back and smiled down at their victim.

Kitty stared back, still angry and defiant.  She didn't need to try forcing a scream through the panties and multiple layers of tape to know she was well and truly gagged.  It was what Bertie referred to as an Über-gag, and was about as effective a means of enforcing silence as existed, short of numbing her vocal cords with drugs or knocking her out.  Kitty was glad she had a weak and easily controlled gag reflex, like Bertie, because otherwise, Über-gags could be dangerous.  Their captors weren't fooling around.

"Enough indulgence," Dr. B purred, then shifted her smiling gaze to Helena, climbed gracefully to her feet, and took a step to the side.  "Get this one on the couch and let's move on to the main attraction."

"Sure thing, Dr. B," Suki chuckled.  She lifted and dragged Kitty to the couch, with only slight difficulty, and plunked her down between Helena and Bertie.  "Your turn, Four-Eyes," she said, then lifted and dragged Helena to the center of the room, to the same spot where they had just dealt with Kitty.

Writhing and fighting her bonds for all she was worth and mewling through her gag, Helena flopped and kicked, her eyes wide with fear behind her glasses.  Finally, she surrendered to the inevitable and relaxed in her bonds, her bosom heaving and nostrils flaring above her gag.  She turned her head to Dr. B, and her eyes popped even wider.

Still dressed in her sexy ensemble of stockings, garter belt, panties, and bra—with obvious professional skill and experience—Dr. Bondage was filling a syringe from a small vial.

Kitty and Bertie watched with equal horror.  They exchanged a look, then began struggling against their bonds.  They had to save their client!  They had to try, anyway.

"That'll be enough of that," Dr. B said absently.  Her eyes were on the syringe as she tapped its side, then depressed the plunger to eliminate air from the needle.

"Seriously," Suki said, smiling at the naked, bound and gagged detectives.  "You should save your strength... for later."
The End of...
A Kiss Before Tying  meow
 Chapter 3

Chapter 2
meow Chapter 4