by H. A. Kotys
First the hat, then the glasses were stripped off and handed to the man, interrupting him counting his pay. The scarf was unwound and the coat ripped away as Katarina’s new Mistress sought to assess her purchase in person for the first time. An almost imperceptible nod confirmed acceptance and the man removed the uniform that had deceived all in the station, spun and scurried away.
Teetering in her impossible heels, Katarina steeled herself for her fate. She stood erect, the only show of defiance she could offer. Her Mistress closed the gap between them so they were toe to toe, breasts lightly meeting, separated only by layers of leather and latex. A leather gloved hand gripped Katarina's jaw, forcibly turning her head slightly left, then right. The posture collar bit harshly into her neck as Mistress Raven coldly analysed her new toy.
“You will follow me, girl.” Katarina saw her lips move and this time, a woman's voice commanded through the earphones. She had access just as Immelmann had. This was all scripted. She was still a puppet to his intricately directed play.
The leash she clipped to the collar left Katarina no option but to follow her newly appointed Mistress. The first tug unbalanced her in the sky-high ballet heels, and despite pulling back, she teetered inexorably forward, bending in an enforced stoop of deference that crushed her ribs.
A dark van with blackened windows drew up to the curb right on cue. The side door slid back and Mistress Raven confidently stepped inside without the merest pause to her fluid moves, drawing the leashed Katarina in behind her.
The tyres squealed as the driver gunned quickly away, the sudden motion causing Katarina to fall onto the van's side bench, drilling the butt plug deeper inside. A belt was drawn across her lap, anchoring her in place. Her head was drawn up by the leash now doubled around a hook in the roof. Immobile, she was being sped to her fate.
Left ... right ... left ... a bridge, or was it just a rise in the road ... left and quick left again, or at least she thought it was but couldn't now be sure. The vibrations from the engine were stirring the benwa balls into an almost frenzied activity within. Slowly, Katarina slipped to distraction, growing more disorientated as her aroused body again demanded the attention of her mind. Left … oh … straight … oh God!
Opposite what remained of Katarina, sat her Mistress, watching her as a hawk would a mouse. Her eyes didn't wander, didn't deviate, as her prey started to lose herself to the perpetual motions within. A hint of a smile played across her lips. There was torment within her new girl whose eyes were now closed to focus on a screaming need.
Difficult as it was to track the moves through darkened windows, the self- preserving priority to concentrate on the route flickered before finally giving way to an entirely different need as her body built towards an irresistible crescendo of carnal climax.
“Good girl, let go,” Mistress Raven soothed through the earphones. “Make the most of it. It’s the last time you will be allowed without my explicit permission.” And as silence folded around Katarina again, her world melted behind an orgasmic veil.
CHAPTER VII - The Rigger
A metallic grating startled Katarina as the door of the van was roughly hurled back. Opening her eyes, she looked straight into those of her new Mistress as the leash was taken from the hook and lap belt released. Without a word, the woman spun on her high heels, yanking the leash to have Katarina follow. Katarina had slept - more like passed out - and with that all hope of tracing the route had gone. As it was dark now, they could have driven for hours for all she knew. She was lost, along with another element of hope.
The leather stretched tightly over her rounded ass as Mistress Raven stooped to exit the van. Even under two layers of leather and who knows what else secretly concealed beneath, Katarina could tell this was a lady in fine shape. Tall, confident, elegant, stunning. All the characteristics of a photo fit Domme.
With a tug of the leash, Katarina slipped to one knee then tried to struggle to her feet, heels sliding on the van's steel floor. An impatient yank urged her forward.
At this time of year, Katarina had expected to be struck with the chill of night but the air was comfortable and still. Looking around, even through the unlit gloom, she could now work out that they were in a building. The van had been driven inside and the building’s doors shut tight, leaving no chance for her to get her bearings. It could have been day or night, summer or winter. All she knew was that she was here – she just didn’t know where here was.
Katarina stood upright when the pressure from her leash stopped. Not wholly dark, she could make out Mistress Raven ahead of her, waiting. A door cracked open on what she could now see was a truck loading dock. Light spilling from the opening, a shadowy figure first emerged, then approached.
Petite and feminine, as the girl drew close, Katarina could discern elfin features. Stopping a short distance away, the girl dropped to one knee before Mistress Raven, lowering her head in deference to what was obviously her dominant. The girl nodded courteously, apparently receiving instructions, then kissed the offered leather clad hand and rose to her feet, eyes cast low, head remaining bowed.
Katarina closed her eyes, focussing inwardly on her predicament. She hadn't felt her arms since entering the station and her insides felt like they'd just boxed twelve rounds. Hunger pangs gnawed at her stomach. She wished she'd taken the chance of snacking on the food laid out at the shoot but no, she was a model and had to watch her weight. Had she really been a model? She doubted now she ever was.
That seemed like a lifetime ago, though it could have been no more than a few hours. Two? Three? Four? She had no idea as the sleep she'd plunged into in the van had robbed her of even that touch point. She didn’t feel refreshed but that didn’t mean anything, who could feel refreshed bound as she was, no matter how long they’d slept?
A model. The word replayed in her head as if taunting her. Her dream had crumbled. Life's rollercoaster had built her up from the depths only to really hurl her down this time.
“My slave will prepare you.” Mistress Raven's voice broke in on Katarina’s thoughts. Her eyes snapped open in time to see the slender woman sashaying away while the tug on her leash told her she was under the command of yet another.
The elfin girl couldn’t be much more than five feet tall and yet, bound as she was, Katarina could do nothing but be led. Up the ramp she stuttered, toward the show of light cast from the door. She knew she should be resisting but what was the point? The bite from her imperious heels was beginning to agonise anyway and it was task enough just to walk.
Reaching the door, without pause they entered. The bright neon lights of the room seared Katarina’s eyes before they adjusted to the harsh, almost surgical, glare. Slowly she took in her new surroundings. Clinical white tiles covered both floor and walls, broken only by a central grate and a single door on the far side. A chain hung in the centre of the room and immediately, Katarina guessed her destination.
The tiles gently sloped to the single grate. They were slippery, or at least it seemed so as she slithered and struggled to stay upright. There was scant patience in the elfin girl though and she dragged Katarina to the centre point of the room with little thought for her difficulties before finally unclipping the leash.
A raised finger silently told her to stand still as the girl crossed to the wall and slid aside a panel. Returning, Katarina felt the girl fumble with her collar but, with her head held erect by the stiff leather, she could only guess at her work as the chain suspended from the ceiling danced before her eyes.
Back to the wall panel. Katarina’s eyes followed the girl as she busied herself then turned to check her handiwork. In her peripheral vision, Katarina could see the cute girl bathed in the brilliant white light of the room but try as she might, her neck refused to turn in the collar’s firm grasp. She seemed to look like the average attractive girl you'd pass in the street. Tidily made up, yet not stunning in the way of Mistress Raven. She could be your friend, your sister, the flirty office girl that everyone loved. A
nd yet there was something else. Something different, something deeper. The thick buckled collar around her neck named her as Mela and told knowing eyes enough.
A hint of something was dancing in Mela’s eyes. Malice perhaps? That at least would fit the bill but Katarina couldn’t be sure. Still effectively deafened, Katarina didn't hear the whir of a motor. It was only when it started to reel in the chain that she knew of it with a pull on her neck. This was different to being led. Mechanical, the winch had no consideration for its effect and Katarina's eyes widened as her tired body was stretched upward. Straightening her legs, then back and straining as best she could, she made a desperate attempt to ease the pressure on her neck.
Pleadingly, Katarina looked at the girl, who returned the look with a devilish smile. Higher. Higher. The motor wound in the chain until Katarina could stretch no more and even her hellish heels barely brushed the floor. She could barely touch the ground to ease the pressure. Katarina would soon choke.
Satisfied and with perfect judgement, the cute devil abruptly stopped the motor. Katarina was left barely supported, able to stretch one leg, but not both, to the floor to temporarily lessen the pressure on her neck
The strain eased as the motor reversed and feelings of relief washed over Katarina who relaxed into a less stringent stance. The relief was short-lived. The girl punched the button and Katarina was drawn once more precisely to her fully stretched height. Her eyes pleaded an acknowledgement - she was held there at the whim of the girl.
A third time. A fourth. The girl repeated the process, revelling in the control of another she was seldom allowed. Finally, she settled the chain length at a midpoint. Not immediately uncomfortable, both Katarina and the girl knew she would not hold the position so firmly upright for long. The discomfort would build. Slowly at first, Katarina knew in time even this would be as harsh as the stretched position. The anticipation of that discomfort would make it all the more severe, mercilessly playing on both body and mind.
Apparently satisfied now, the girl returned and brandished a small brass key into Katarina’s field of vision, smiling impishly before disappearing again below her line of sight.
Katarina started as she felt the girl fumbling between her legs. ‘Oh God, no, not again,’ her head screamed in protest as she felt fingers active in areas already tenderised and inflamed. A shock came in feeling the taught latex peel back as the zip was drawn upwards, exposing her to the tormentor. She thought her humiliation could not increase but she was wrong. Very wrong.
A white piece of paper was held up before her eyes. It said just one word, 'PEE'.
She couldn't do it. She wouldn't. This was too much. Too far. The sign was withdrawn and a moment later held before her afresh. 'PEE - LAST CHANCE'. There was little choice. Who knew when she would get the chance again. Face flushing scarlet with embarrassment, Katarina forced her bladder to relax before the stranger and with the flushing away of any last vestige of pride, she peed on command.
CHAPTER VIII - Rigged
Her humiliation had pitched her to a new low and the reward for it was a pat on her flank as the petite girl again worked below Katarina's eye line. The drawing of the zip knitted the latex back together, restoring the pressure encircling her pelvis and adding a new one between her legs. Back. Completely locked in the catsuit again. What the hell was that? What the hell next?
Returning to the wall, the girl took what looked like a remote control from the recess and holding it before Katarina's eyes, punched the red button.
Katarina's world exploded in shards of pain as a current lanced around her groin. Her knees buckled, loading the weight abruptly onto her collared neck. The excruciating strain was too much to bear. Leaning on nothing more than instinctive self-preservation, she quickly regained enough sense to stand straight on her toed boots, enduring while it subsided.
Again, the remote was held before her. Green this time apparently. Green was clearly the colour of Katarina's reward. Gentle vibrations of the pads placed around her thighs, butt and more sensitive parts, slowly and pleasantly stimulated her. Muscles quivered in grateful receipt before it abruptly halted as the girl slipped into the next room unnoticed, out of range of the remote device.
Could this get any worse? Could she be more objectified? Katarina’s answer was to come quickly but the method was not immediately apparent. The slave girl wheeled a shiny black metal frame into the room. Katarina could do nothing but watch as the frame was first brought towards her then to her left, out of her restrained field of vision.
She strained to turn her head, darting her eyes left and right, hunting for clues. She was desperate to see what the girl was busying herself with now but the thick, high posture collar kept her facing forward while the earplugs deafened her to any other hints. The gag in her mouth remained Katarina’s only comfort and she sucked on it, trying to extract even a meagre degree of security from the now empty cylinder within.
The first clue came as a hand gripped her calf. Already burning from unknown hours under the strain of the locked ballet boots, the fingers bit deep, causing Katarina to buck and try to twist away. The strain on her neck quickly limited her attempts at avoidance but a swift kick to the back of her knee caused her to buckle and momentarily hang by the collar, showing Katarina her place.
Her plaintive mewling went ignored as her leg was lifted and placed on the low platform of the stand. Levering herself up, Katarina felt a moment's relief as she was able to rise, reducing the pull of the collar. She quickly lifted her other foot to gain two extra inches of slack so she could ease the strain on her breathing. Respite was needed and to hell with the consequences.
The girl once again reappeared in Katarina's sight and flashed a grinning thumbs up. Her perfume drifted lazily across Katarina's nose, a heady musk that suggested wealth and promised no little lust. It struck Katarina as a dichotomy that a girl that openly portrayed herself as a slave would wear sure a seemingly confident scent. That thought was soon despatched though as the girl dived down again and gripped Katarina’s latex clad leg above and below the knee. She pushed it further back, hands lingering. Was that more than just precise positioning?
It felt like ice as Katarina’s body came into contact with the cold titanium frame. Her latex hid her modesty but did little to protect Katarina from the frigid metal. She instinctively tried to jag away, kicking out, and was rewarded with the feeling of the toe of her boot striking home.
The hands snapped away and the girl rose quickly into view, rubbing her newly bruised thigh. A glare painted her portrait of dissatisfaction. The red button was punched to confiscate the slack given to the chain and the sudden wrench on Katarina's neck emphasised her captor’s ire.
Almost unbearable, Katarina stretched as far as she could, desperate to relieve the chafing. She felt one leg lifted and hooked over the shoulder of the girl who now knelt at her feet. Balanced on a single slender heel and toe, Katarina could now do nothing but hop backwards as the girl pushed again until she was happy that Katarina had settled where she wanted against the waiting frame.
Cold against her calf was followed by the same above and below her knee, then across her thigh until Katarina was one with the frame. Narrow black titanium bands, barely distinguishable from her outfit, fixed her leg in place. Her other was soon embraced in the same unforgiving way. Unable to move. Locked in place as if welded still.
The girl rose and again passed behind Katarina, whose fear was rising with every act. Numbed as they were, she didn't notice as the girl forced her heavily restrained arms away from her body to allow a telescopic pole to be extended up between her shoulder blades.
A new chill, this time against her spine, hinted to Katarina though. The pole having reached the desired height, a fumbling felt through the collar added the footnote that her neck was now also attached, holding her head up high. Strain on her shoulders was the epilogue to her incarceration. The girl locked the ring at the base of the armbinder low to the frame, forcing Katarina’s arm
s down. All done, all tight.
Arms folded, head cocked slightly to one side, the girl smiled as she assessed her handiwork. She reached forward. Katarina's eyes pleaded with her to stop. Whatever she was about to do, just stop. A palpable sigh even managed to escape around the edges of Katarina's lip-crushing gag as the girl unclipped the ceiling chain, finally detaching the torturous machine. No slack was regained though, no comfort returned as the vertical titanium rod at Katarina’s back held her rigid, her limbs bound.
'SQUIRM' the sign held before her said. Katarina needed no more encouragement and with all her strength she fought the metal bonds. Delicate but undeniably strong, her efforts only served to drain her strength and her hope as they held her inflexibly, rendering her totally immobile. The despair of immobility caused her muscles to twitch and the desire to flex them gnawed away at her. Her legs though may as well have been removed as she stood there, the frame holding her, positioning her, denying her.