by Van ©2012
was not having a good
time. None of them were, not Dana, Jane, or Kate.
She wasn't sure how they all "decided" to try and make a beeline
for the alarm clock and the wall of windows. One direction
was as good as the next, and their gags certainly put a damper
on any discussion of the matter. They were surrounded by a
wide circle of different handcuff keys suspended from the
ceiling by clips and lengths of fishing line and held aloft by
melting ice. Eventually they'd drop, swing down, and
dangle within reach, but not
from where they'd all regained consciousness. They had to
get under the edge of the circle. The ice in the direction
of the windows might
be melting a little faster than the rest, but it was difficult
to be sure.
Anyway, one or more of them started squirming towards the glass
wall and Olivia had gone along—literally, as they were all
cuffed together with multiple pairs of handcuffs—and by choice. She
was actively participating in the snail-paced journey.
Slowly, carefully, they extended various hands, knees, elbows,
feet, shoulders, or hips the few inches allowed by the tangled
chaos of their naked captivity, and eased themselves towards
their goal, rolling or sliding very carefully. They had to
do some rolling, otherwise the same parts of their bodies would
take all the punishment. Olivia had to be careful not to
plant a body part where it might be crushed by her fellow
captives, to not let the metal cuffs cut her wrists or ankles,
and to spare herself from rug burns as much as possible, but
none of them were going to come out of this unscathed.
Oh by the way... knees were sliding against thighs, gagged faces
were squashing breasts, elbows were poking crotches, arms were
gliding across tummies, feet were jamming into armpits, buttocks
were bumping together, etc., etc. All the bodies involved
were becoming increasingly flushed from the exertion, and while
the resulting sweat was aiding their locomotive efforts, the
involuntary intimacy was... disturbing. Their predicament
was like an involuntary, kinky, and inept four-way. All
that was missing was erotic intent—and Olivia was doing her part
to keep things professional by thinking non-erotic
thoughts. She liked Kate, Jane, and even her boss, Dana,
but not that way.
Meanwhile, the ice blocks keeping the keys overhead had melted
into tiny ice globs
and would soon melt completely. "All" they had to do was
wiggle their way from dangling key to dangling key, find which
key fit which handcuffs—and they'd be free! In this case,
"free" meant being naked, silenced by identical ball-gags
secured by rubber-clad, heavy-duty cable-ties that could not be removed by hand, and
locked in a vacant office in a Manhattan skyscraper.
However, it would be a vast improvement over being cuffed
together in a naked pig-pile on the floor.
All of which assumed the keys suspended overhead actually fit
their cuffs, of course, and this wasn't a joke even more elaborate and cruel
than being abandoned in the multi-cuff, naked tangle.
The keys began to fall. By happy circumstance, one of the
first to drop down, swing like a pendulum, then dangle just
above the carpet was in their path and they were already most of
the way there. After more squirming and wiggling the key
was finally in hand, specifically, in Jane Rizzoli's hand.
She fumbled to fit the key into each of the cuffs in reach—a
maddeningly slow and awkward process. Then, with a gagged
squawk of triumph—"Mrrfk!"—Jane found a pair of cuffs that
accepted the key! Locks turned, ratchets clicked, and the
cuffs fell the couple of inches to the floor, freeing Kate's
right wrist from Olivia's right ankle. Of course, Kate's
right wrist was still cuffed to Dana's left ankle and Olivia's
right ankle was still cuffed to Jane's right ankle—but it was
Olivia felt a little
better. At least the
The next two hours were a sweaty, intimate, exhausting ordeal fraught
with frustration, but progress continued. They squirmed
their way to key after key, and pair by pair removed the
cuffs. By the time the sixth pair was removed, all the ice
had melted and all the keys had dropped. Each set of
joined bracelets that fell away granted a modicum of freedom and
made the quest for the next key just a little easier, but
sometimes it took many, many tries before the right key was
fitted to the right cuff. Sometimes the only possible
angle for the only captive positioned to wield the key was
awkward and difficult, but they persevered.
By the time the last of the cuffs was unlocked it was late in
the afternoon. The street far below was already completely
in shadow and the increasingly low-angle light reflected off the
upper stories of the neighboring skyscrapers was beginning to
take on an orange tint. Sunset was coming.
The prisoners—and they were still prisoners—took stock of their
scrapes, bruises, and abrasions. Olivia noted the ligature
marks on her wrists and ankles and the angry rug burns on her
right hip, left elbow, and both knees. Okay, the burns
angry. Olivia was the one that was angry, and she could
tell the others were the same, both with regard to their easily
ignored minor injuries and
The greatest source of Olivia's irritation was her lack of
recall. She could remember being on a serial kidnapping
case, Executive Assistant Director Scully showed up to
participate, they went someplace... together... and that was
it. She knew Jane Rizzoli from Boston, but could not remember where, when,
or how she came to know Kate Beckett... but she did know her,
and she liked her.
Olivia had noticed the one door in the large space not secured
by a locked clam-shell cover over its doorknob, and apparently,
so had the others. As if by formal agreement, they all
started across the room at the same time. Kate got there
first. She turned the knob and pulled open the door.
The space beyond was a small coat closet. A clutter of
shoes was on the floor, three pair of boots and one pair of high
heels, and hanging from the horizontal rod were four sets of
clothing on hangers. Olivia recognized the boots and
pantsuit she'd worn to... wherever she was going before her
memory blanked out.
Jane gave another gagged squawk—"Mrrfk!"—and lifted a pair of
heavy-duty ratcheting cutters from the shelf above the clothing
rod, just the thing to cut thick cable-ties. Olivia parted
Kate's hair and Jane carefully snipped the tie securing her gag. They
did the same for Dana, Kate and Jane did the same for her, then
Kate took the cutters, Olivia parted Jane's hair—snip—and they were all free of the hateful,
mouth-filling, jaw-stretching gags.
"Arrr," Jane gasped as she pulled the ball from her mouth.
"I think those are my clothes and boots," she said.
"Same here," Kate said.
Olivia had already lifted the hanger with her clothes from the
rod. "And here. It looks like we're all going
Dana shrugged. "Won't be the first time."
Olivia noticed the quizzical glance exchanged by Kate and Jane,
and smiled. "Executive Assistant Director Scully, allow me
to introduce Detective Jane Rizzoli of the Boston Police and
Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD."
"Please, call me Dana," Scully said, smiling and shaking their
"Executive Assistant Director?" Jane asked. "Uh, pleased
to meet you, ma'am."
"That's 'Dana-ma'am' to you," Dana chuckled and they all
laughed. Shared naked adversity trumped great differences
They began dressing, and soon were in their respective blouses
or tops, pants, and jackets. Only Dana was in a skirt and
heels. The others were in boots and pants.
"I've got my ID," Olivia announced, pulling her ID/badge case
from her jacket pocket.
"Same here," Jane confirmed.
"And here," chimed in Kate.
"And here," Dana added, "and,
I've got my phone." The phone in question was in a
foil-lined plastic bag. She pulled it from the bag and
turned it on. The screen lit. "I'll go to the window
and try and call for some help. They should be able to
ping the GPS. Agent, Detectives, why don't you confirm
that the other doors actually are locked."
"Yes, ma'am," Olivia answered, and the others nodded.
"When you're done, may I call my captain?" Kate asked, and Dana
nodded. She already had the phone to her ear and had
turned and was walking towards the window-wall.
"I guess I better call my lieutenant," Jane sighed, "or, if we
can get one of those windows open, I can jump. It would be
quicker and less painful."
|rizzoli & beckett
had to wake up. She wasn't sure what, but something had
happened, something that was wrong, and she had to wake
And then there was the hand slapping her face. Smack! At least it
felt like a hand, her eyes were closed and she couldn't be
sure. One thing she was sure of, however—Smack!—hand or no, she
wished it would stop and she said so. "Stop." At
least she thought she was the one speaking. Smack! "I said
stop!" Yes, that was her voice, but she sounded like she
was asleep. Oh, that's
right... I have to wake up. Helen opened her
eyes. She was in the secure lab... still in the secure lab,
She was strapped to the examining table! The leg supports
and stirrups were locked in the gynecological exam position,
with her knees bent and legs splayed apart. Her back was
reclined at a comfortable angle and her arms straight out to
either side. "What's the meaning of this?" she demanded,
tugging on the leather straps and cuffs securing her in
place. She was still wearing her paper scrubs, but her
slippers had gone missing. There was no one in
sight. She glared at the closest HD camera, noting the red
light that signified it was on. "Henry, you bloody well
get down here this very
instant and release me or I swear I
shall—M'mpfh!" A pair of strong, feminine hands had
reached from behind the headrest, stuffed the foam and rubber
plug of a panel-gag into her mouth, and were buckling the strap
at the nape of her neck. The front panel was of thin
rubber, and Helen realized it was the same gag Rupandra had been
wearing in the transport capsule.
Helen's captor was Rupandra, of course, and the still naked
Incufumara stepped around the table, leaned close, and buckled
the gag's chinstrap, smiling an infuriating smile at her glaring
captive. "Your lab is remarkably well equipped for my
purposes, Dr. Magnus," she said, "with a few notable
Helen struggled against her bonds as Rupandra wheeled over a
steel stand supporting a tray of medical instruments.
Tight, padded cuffs bound Helen's wrists and ankles, and equally
tight straps crossed her forearms and upper arms, her torso,
above and below her breasts, her waist, thighs, and just below
her knees. The tan leather medical restraints were
heavy-duty, designed to control a struggling abnormal with
superhuman strength. Helen knew she wasn't going anywhere.
"I found your Jennings and Whitehead mouth-spreaders," Rupandra
continued, "and a drawer with several rolls of medical
tape. I prefer the white to the flesh-tone Elastoplast, by
the way, but that's a matter of taste, isn't it? However,
I found nothing recreational. No ball-gags, bit-gags,
penis-gags... So, I rinsed off the gag Irena loaned me and
we'll use it." She selected a pair of light bandage
scissors from the tray. "Also, no vibrators of any kind,
and not a single feather. Really Helen? No
feathers? And we'll have to use forceps and hemostats as
nipple clamps. Don't you realize how easy it is to
over-tighten those things? At least you have a decent
selection of specula, blunt probes, and a Wartenberg pinwheel."
Helen continued fighting her bonds and glaring at the TV camera.
Rupandra noticed the direction of Helen's angry gaze. "Oh,
don't worry about your friends," she chuckled. "I don't
mind them watching. I don't mind in the least, and we've
already reached an understanding. I'll explain later, but
Helen watched in horror as Rupandra used the scissors to cut the
left side of her paper trousers. She started at the cuff
and worked her way up the outside of her leg to the
waistband. She had to make horizontal cuts to free the
paper fabric from under the calf and thigh straps, but didn't
have too much difficulty. She then stepped around the
table and did the same to Helen's right leg. She severed
the waist band, then pulled away what was left of the ruined
scrub pants. The short-sleeved top was next, and Helen
could do nothing to stop her. All too soon, Helen's scrubs
were gone and her clothing reduced to her underwear; a bra and
"Delightful, Helen," Rupandra sighed, trading the bandage
scissors for a slightly heavier pair. "This is going to be
delightful. You see, I need to feed... a lot. Any
human aura would serve my purposes, but you'll do wonderfully. In any
case, there don't seem to be a lot of options." Her smile
become quite feral. "Yes, you'll do quite nicely, Helen,
and I understand from Irena you possess unusual strength and
stamina. You're going to need both, Helen, because I'm starving."
"Nrrrf!" Helen tugged on her bonds as Rupandra severed the
bra at the shoulder straps—snip,
snip—and between the cups—snip. Rupandra then pulled away the bra
and her breasts bounced free.
"Magnificent," Rupandra sighed, then exchanged the heavy
scissors for the lighter pair and snipped the sides of Helen's
panties on her left hip—snip-snip-snip—then
"And now, the final unveiling," she purred, and jerked the cut
panties from under Helen's rump. Rupandra sighed. "I
was hoping you'd have a fluffy bush. I've never been a
great fan of shaved pussy." She leaned close, between
Helen's splayed legs, and gave her pubic thatch a delicate
sniff. "I love the way aromas linger on the delicate
curls. And your scent is delectable, Helen."
Helen jerked her torso and shoulders from side to side,
struggling with all her strength to escape what she knew to be a
totally inescapable system of humane restraint. All she
accomplished was to make her breasts sway and bob.
"You naughty tease," Rupandra chuckled, then knelt between
Helen's legs. "I know you're confused and alarmed. I
can smell it. I'll explain what's happening later, as I
said. I'll also deliver a message from Irena... after I've
fed... a few times."
Helen's eyes popped wide and she shivered in her bonds.
Rupandra had delivered a slow, wet lick down the length of her
labia, sending titillating, electric sensations through her
body. Instantly, her mind flashed on the last time she'd
served as a meal for an Incufumara. Lisbon! Then, the
pleasure took her.
|rizzoli & beckett
huge television/computer monitor in the Sanctuary's main library
was displaying all that was happening in the containment lab far
below, in high-definition and multiple windows, each depicting a
different angle. Dr. Helen Magnus, the Sanctuary's
Director, was naked, gagged, and strapped to the lab's
examination table in a very
vulnerable position. She was struggling against
inescapable restraints and mewling through a tight gag.
Her nostrils flared and bosom heaved as she took deep, rhythmic
breaths. Her blue eyes were wide and staring and her
smooth, tan skin glistened with sweat. Rupandra was
kneeling between her legs, her head bobbing as she licked,
sucked, probed, and teased Helen's genitals with her tongue,
lips, and teeth.
Watching this spectacle were the only two members of the
Sanctuary staff currently in residence (not counting the
Director, of course). Bigfoot, aka "Big Guy," was slouched
in a comfortable wing chair and Henry Foss was standing
nearby. Both were reading hard copies of the protocol
Helen had developed for shepherding Rupandra through her
change. Actually, the binders were open in their hands,
but their eyes were on the screen. After all, they were
only human—or not. Big Guy was actually (and quite
obviously) an abnormal. In fact, he was what some people
call a Yeti. Henry was also an abnormal, a lycanthrope,
and was currently in the form of a rather hairy and slightly
Big Guy uttered one his characteristic grunts. "Urh."
"I know," Henry said. "She's gonna kill us, but what
choice do we have? The redhead has to feed, and she has,
uh, particular tastes. What can we do, recall Kate from
her assignment? Go across the street to the Starbucks and
ask the female baristas if they'd like to volunteer?" The
Kate in question was Kate Freelander, a Sanctuary
colleague. The baristas in question were uniformly cute
and perky, but knew nothing of the Sanctuary other than it was
"the big creepy place across the street that probably used to be
"Urh. Magnus kill you,"
Big Guy responded. "She'll only be mad at me... for a
They both continued to stare.
"Helen needed to get
her ashes hauled," Henry said. "She's been working too
hard for too long, and she won't take a vacation."
"If Will was here," Henry continued, "and he had the guts to
admit he's crazy about her, he could do it."
"Urh," Big Guy grunted. "Magnus will make you erase the
Henry nodded. "She'll keep one encrypted disc for the
research archives. She'll make me wipe the backup files,
and will probably find and erase my 'secret' copies." He
winked at Big Guy. "Most
of my secret copies. I'll burn you a blu-ray disc... and
one for Will."
On the screen, Helen had gone rigid in her bonds and was holding
her breath. Her eyes were clenched tightly closed.
Rupandra continued feeding.
"Fifth time?" Henry asked.
"Urh," Big Guy answered. "Hard to tell. First time
"Also much-much," Henry added. "You hungry?"
"Me neither," Henry muttered.
Down in the lab, Helen was breathing again, and Rupandra was still feeding.
|rizzoli & beckett
they come," Jane said. The others moved to the window-wall
and followed her gaze down to the street far below.
Several tiny, black SUV's and NYPD patrol cars with flashing
lights had pulled up to the building. Night had almost
fallen and the blue, red, and white strobes flashing on the
vehicles were making quite a light show. They watched as a
couple of dozen ant-sized Agents and uniformed officers rushed
into the lobby.
"I wish we could give them more than an estimate of which floor
we're on," Olivia said, and the others shrugged.
"I suppose we're gonna be debriefing all night," Kate sighed.
Dana nodded. "At the New York Field Office, and probably
for most of tomorrow. Also, the medics and shrinks will
want to work us over. We need to sort out this memory loss
thing and compare notes."
Kate sighed, again. "May I borrow your phone again,
Dana smiled. "Only
if you start calling me Dana like I asked."
Kate managed a sheepish smile as she accepted the phone.
"Thanks, Dana." She tapped out a number and held the phone
to her ear. "Ryan, it's Kate," she said. "Do me a
favor and..." Kate smiled and twisted a strand of hair
around the index finger of her free hand. "Oh, that's so sweet.
Thanks. I'm fine, really. Listen, I need you and
Espy to go to Katz' Deli and get four pastrami on rye with
yellow mustard, fries, and creme sodas. Bring it to the
FBI Field Office and tell them it's for Executive Assistant
Director Scully's party. You got all that?
Excellent, and don't take no for an answer. Yes, four
complete orders. Thanks. 'Bye."
"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Jane purred as Kate
handed the phone back to Dana.
"Creme soda?" Olivia asked.
Kate shrugged. "It's traditional."
|rizzoli & beckett
was exhausted. She was still cuffed and strapped to the
examining table and still in the gynecological exam position,
but the gag was out of her mouth and hanging around her neck,
the chinstrap dangling loose, and the main strap buckled on its
last hole. Her skin was flushed and dripping with
sweat. Rupandra held a paper cup to her lips, gently
lifted the back of her head from the headrest, and helped her
drink the contents. It was cool, clear water. Helen
swallowed until the cup was empty, then licked her lips and
locked eyes with Rupandra. "Release me," she demanded.
"You're welcome," Rupandra chuckled as she crumpled the cup and
tossed it in the non-medical waste bin. She stretched her
nude body with arms extended straight up. "Ahhh."
She came down off her toes and smiled. "That will hold me
for the moment, but I'm going to require regular feeding
sessions for the next two or three days, before I enter a coma
and begin the actual change. Maybe four. I'm really hungry."
Helen focused on one of the TV cameras. "Henry!" she
yelled. "Get down here and—M'mpfh!"
Rupandra had her right hand clamped over Helen's mouth.
"Now, now. If you don't want to be civilized about this,
the gag goes back in and will stay there except for meals.
I've already placed our breakfast order, by the way. Funny
how satisfying one appetite can create another, isn't it?"
She took her hand away.
Helen locked eyes with her captor. "I want to help
you. Release me."
"Oh, you are helping,
Helen," Rupandra laughed. "I need to feed, and if not from
the delicious and delectable Dr. Magnus, then from whom?
Do you have any female friends or acquaintances you'd like to
invite over? I insist they be young and attractive, of
Helen continued to stare, then sighed. "You can't keep me
strapped to this table for two or three days."
"Actually, I can," Rupandra purred. "As I feed, my saliva
will repair and restore your body. However, I have no
intention of leaving you like this. Your friend Henry has
placed a next-day rush order for 100 meters of conditioned jute
rope—six millimeter, five-strand twist, the good stuff."
She pointed at the ceiling. "A little low for Shibari
suspensions, but there are several hard-points for mounting
equipment I can use as lashing points and a motorized
winch. We'll make do."
100 meters? Helen
thought. "Henry would never
agree to such a thing," she huffed.
"Your protocol specifies meeting all reasonable requests for
special food, drink, or miscellaneous items that will make my
stay more comfortable," Rupandra countered, then leaned close
and whispered in Helen's right ear. "Besides, I think he
wants to watch. I could hear it in his voice while we
Helen focused on the TV camera, again. "I'll deal with you
later," she promised in an even tone.
"Now," Rupandra continued, "soon I'll restore your gag so we can
both take a nice nap." She gestured towards the patient
bed/hyperbaric chamber. The medical restraints had been
removed and formed a tangled heap of tan leather on a nearby
worktable. "I'll take the bed and you can remain where you
are. But first, I suppose I might as well deliver that
message from Irena and the Clan Elders I mentioned."
Helen continued her We-are-not-amused stare. "Very well."
Rupandra smiled and cleared her throat. "Ahem. Dr.
Magnus, while the Five Clans understand your scientific
curiosity, applaud your moral stand on the rights of
'abnormals,' and appreciate your technical assistance, even
benign interference in the affairs of the Incufumarae will not be tolerated.
There will always be a price to be paid for meddling with our
kind, however good your intentions. And on a personal
note, Lady Irena looks forward to reinforcing this lesson at
your earliest convenience, or, whenever her Ladies get around to
kidnapping you, whichever comes first."
Helen sighed. There were worse fates than being schooled
by Lady Irena. But first she had to survive serving as
Rupandra's final meal—meals, plural—before her change.
Rupandra slid the gag into Helen's reluctant but accepting
mouth, then buckled the main strap at the nape of her neck,
under her hair, and the second strap under her chin. She
then lifted the first of several rolls of wide, flesh-colored,
elastic cloth bandages from a nearby tray and began stretching
and wrapping the fabric around Helen's head. She made pass
after tight pass, across Helen's gagged mouth and nose, but
leaving her nostrils free for ease of breathing, then across her
forehead and from under her chin to the crown of her head.
Two more rolls were consumed, and eventually, Helen's entire
head, including her hair but excluding her eyes, had disappeared
under multiple overlapping layers of wide, tight bands of
Rupandra smiled into Helen's blue eyes as she reached for two
thick pads of cotton and a fourth rolled bandage. "If you
were susceptible to my scent-of-control," she purred, "I'd order
you to have sweet and very
wet dreams of the wonderful adventure that awaits. But as
susceptible, all I can do is wish you a good night... and feed
upon you, one more time." She placed the pads over Helen's
eyes, then used the bandage to keep them there, completing the
mummification of Helen's head.
Helen lay in helpless darkness, slowly testing her restraints,
restraints she herself had designed and tested and knew to be
completely escape-proof. Suddenly, a pair of
hands—Rupandra's hands—gently squeezed her breasts... toyed with
her erect nipples... then slid down her abdomen, through her
pubic bush, and parted her labia. There was a pause...
then a warm, soft, wet tongue—Rupandra's tongue—began licking
and probing her tingling pussy, yet again. Helen moaned
through her gag and shivered in her bonds.
The things I do for Science,
she thought as once again waves of unendurable pleasure engulfed
|rizzoli & beckett