by H. A. Kotys
Katarina winced to the sudden shot of pain but just as quickly forgot it as the gloved hand of Red snatched at her hair and held her head tight against the bars. She could only watch as the woman known as Amber unlocked the cage door. One leg trapped under her, Katarina’s other long-bent leg sprung straight as the door was swung open and burning muscles stretched to seek comfort. In vain, Katarina willed herself to kick out, to demonstrate the newfound strength reawakened but her tired and aching body remained deaf to any command.
Craning to see beyond the cage door, the fingers entwined in Katarina’s hair wrenched her head back, slamming it against steel. A moan behind her. Raven was not the only one who revelled in inflicting pain. “Mistress Raven is your life,” purred a menacing reminder beside her ear. Her mind spun back to the box, to how she’d fought for air and an unwelcome pulse of gratitude momentarily flushed through her, invoked by the words.
A clank. Steel struck against steel. Anguish flared as metal grips closed around her throat, abbreviating her pleasure. Katarina lashed out but only struck metal. Her scalp burned, gripped by it as she was. Through narrowed eyes she caught a glimpse of the long metal rod that connected to the calliper now closed around her neck. Slowly it drew Katarina forward as the clutch on her hair eased and she was guided out of her cage.
Katarina gripped the rod, trying to ease the pressure, fighting for breath. There was no option but to follow and as she unfolded herself from the cage, blood raced back into the aching muscles of her limbs. Sore beyond belief, Katarina barely noticed a second device close on her neck.
Held from two sides, neck circled in metal, Katarina slowly rose. Her hands gripped the rods, as much to help her rise as to protest against control until, finally, she was fully upright, held on her toes by a duet of steel. Never had she felt as exposed as now. She was part-stood, part-hung at the foot of the imposing bed, held naked between two leather clad women, displayed like meat before the primary predator.
Katarina looked straight ahead, she could not look away. A used up Mela lay curled in a foetal position to one side. There though, in the centre, draped across silken pillows, lay Mistress Raven. One leg raised, the other straight with toes impatiently twitching, her silk gown gaped open despite the sash loosely tied around her waist.
A glint of metal told of nipple piercings as she absentmindedly circled a finger around the aureole. Hair somehow immaculate, eyes deep and dark, a smile caressed Raven’s lips as she saw the body presented. Fingers laced into the hair of the girl curled beside her and tightened possessively as Raven surveyed the display at the foot of her bed.
She looked from the disappointingly conservative Amber via her new toy before finally settling on the tall leather clad form of Red. Raven remembered the command of her Master, that she shouldn’t harm the new girl. Her eyes danced though to the tune of the idea that formed in her head. With her ambitious adulation, Red would be useful. That fire, that desire to please and the willingness to venture deeper, ever-deeper could be exploited.
“Take her to the gymnasium,” she issued and as Raven watched, the women steered their captive out of the grand double doors while Mistress Raven stretched her legs wider, drawing the slave girl back into her place of service.
A compelled tongue reached forward. A first exploratory touch then more. Attentions so sweet. Raven’s head eased back, basking in the fluid warmth of the sensation. Her fingers curled deeper into the girl’s hair, clamping her in place. She’d come a long way and yes, times were good, very good. With a moan as the tongue probed just there Raven pressed the girl tighter. A deep breath and the liquid honey of Mela’s attentions prompted an ever ready fire to grow toward the inferno of climax.
CHAPTER XXII – Clear & Present
Katarina could only stumble as she was led away, wanting to help but powerless to ease the grip that the malicious Raven had on poor Mela. Held up uncomfortably high, her thoughts had to turn to relieving the choking strain on her neck as the double doors closed on her uncomfortable night.
The trio descended deeper into the bowels of the building. The metal rubbed and chafed uncomfortably around Katarina’s neck. Thoughts of kicking out in protest had to be pushed aside - even if the women could be reached, she knew it wouldn’t do much good and would only be answered with more discomfort. So, with little option, she allowed herself to be guided, gripped between the two unyielding steel bars.
Household staff scurried by, heads bowed, avoiding the harsh gaze of the two women and the pleading look of the third held between them in elongated pincers. It should have registered as bizarre, in need of questions, a deeper investigation. But not here, not in this house. Here the bizarre was normal and Katarina swiftly realised any help would only come from herself.
A large room expanded before them. A fitness room, well stocked with the obligatory equipment and flanked with a mirrored wall, reflecting progress to those within it. A bar ran along its length. Once a dance studio perhaps?
Steering the middle woman between the equipment, the trio entered a small ante-room, hidden behind the glass wall. She couldn’t turn her head, but Katarina’s peripheral vision told her it was one-way glass, looking back into the exercise room beyond.
One of the pincers was relaxed but still gripped as she was, Katarina’s only option was to remain in place. With a smirk, Red tilted the steel pincer she held this way then that, gouging the metal into the soft neck of the woman she controlled. “It would be so easy, girl.” She had no need to say more.
“Lift,” the instruction came. Guided by the blonde’s smile and a tap on the ankle, Katarina lifted her leg to feel it squeezed as it was guided into latex again. Tugging, yanking, stretching, the clear garment was pulled halfway up her leg before the process was repeated on her other side. The material soon warmed to match its new wearer but only just covered her knees. She was guided to the far corner of the room and forced downward.
“Go while you can, whore.” The gritty command of the redhead was such a contrast. This wasn’t a time for rebellion so on command, Katarina peed, a fresh humiliation squeezing her chest.
Barely finished, she was guided back upright, immediately feeling fumbling hands between her legs. One intrusion, then the other, were quickly presented back and front. “It will be easier if you relax honey,” a soft antipodean accent encouraged.
Compassion? It could almost be mistaken for that. Katarina relaxed as best she could feeling a hand guiding the first rubber phallus to enter her from the front. Gentle prodding to her butt and the plug was pushed irresistibly past her sphincter, entering her rear. Full. There was no other word to describe it. Was nothing sacred to these people? The twin invaders jostled for mutual accommodation while Amber returned to her task of yanking up the clear rubber.
Hauled past Katarina’s thighs, the latex suit snapped tightly against her butt, cradling the insertions, sealing them within. “Arms in.” The guidance was firm and Katarina balled her fists, plunging each arm in turn into sleeves held ready. A now familiar tightness closed around her as the zip was drawn higher.
A pause and soft hands carefully tucked in her breasts. Did that take longer than necessary? The evidence was starting to mount up. The steel embrace remained tight around Katarina’s neck, the redhead at the end, stony-faced and cold.
Though zipped up to her neck, a vague sensation of weight still hung from the rear of the suit. Katarina’s heart pounded, watching intently for any slip they made.
She should have known none would be there. They were too careful, too skilled and she would have to bide her time if she was ever going to win her freedom.
Slowly pressure from Red via the steel around her neck compelled Katarina to sink to her knees. As she folded, Katarina felt familiar plugs being prodded deeply into her ear canals, sealing her from extraneous sound. They were thorough of course and when done and the putty set firm, she was deafened to any input they didn’t plan.
The second calliper returned, circling Katarina’s
neck high, just below her chin. Not as tight as the first, it was nevertheless inescapable. The first released. Red stepped forward and pressed her toned body against her. A hand buried itself between Katarina’s legs, whose own hands shot instinctively down to preserve any shreds of dignity she could still cling on to. “That’s right whore, fight me. Go on.” The words were a challenge but this wasn’t the time and the redhead was not to be toyed with. She grabbed Katarina’s fingers and painfully bent them away.
Katarina’s free hand edged aside to rest subserviently against her own tummy, the other was shoved there.
Red released her painful grip and switched her focus to pushing the phallus deeper before allowing Katarina to relax, then pushing up again. Over and over, the redhead pressed the phallus. She was being fucked but held as Katarina was, there was nothing she could do. Curling her fingers, she fought her urge to intervene. Nothing would come of it. Nothing could stop it. Endure. Survive. The two words were the hooks she hung on.
“We don’t have time,” warned the Australian woman. Her partner shot her a look. There would be an argument later and probably more. Three more thrusts were a statement. Pre-eminence proven, Red ceased her assault, tugging the top of the catsuit further up Katarina’s neck.
Satisfied, Red stepped back. Picking up the steel pincer, she again grabbed Katarina’s neck. Amber released her own. Katarina was always controlled, always beyond arms’ length of at least one. Time. Patience. Endure. Survive. Thrive could come later. Or so she hoped.
Strands of hair were yanked out by the roots but finally, all were tucked away safely under a hood. The face was open, Katarina’s only exposure and the heat in the room was already causing her to perspire. She guessed whatever they had planned would not be pleasant.
A tap on her ankle and Katarina lifted her foot obediently, it was better that way. She soon felt it being inserted. Where murderous heels had been expected, the shoe was instead soft.
Her confusion grew. Comfortable. More comfortable than she had ever felt before. Even lacking a heel, laces drew the training shoe tight. The other was added while Red ran a bead of glue down along the catsuit’s zip.
“You are to be left unbound, whore,” the Californian Red explained, “but sealed.” Katarina felt naked as the eyes burned their way down the transparent length of her body. “You are watched though,” she continued, nodding to the camera high in the corner. “Attempt to escape and the pleasure will be all mine.” The harsh twist of a rubber-clad nipple emphasised her point. Pleasure was always in the eye of the beholder.
“Mistress Raven requires her whore to be fit enough to endure her attentions. You’ll work hard.” Twisting the rod, Red ensured Katarina looked in turn at a treadmill, step machine, exercise bike and more.
“You are timed and targeted on each piece.” Red’s amused expression hinted at what was to come. “Failure will be punished.” Her words oozed her own pleasure. “Succeed? Well, perhaps you will find out.”
Katarina could already guess what that meant. Their methods were becoming familiar. Do what they want? Good. This usually meant something sexual. Fail? Well, that usually just hurt.
This time there was no demonstration though, they would leave the threat hanging. It was her choice whether to risk sampling failure. Was knowing somehow better or worse?
The large screen in the corner flashed into life. The soundtrack connected directly to the phones pushed deep into her ears. Katarina’s head snapped round, the steel simultaneously released from her neck. Text appeared at the foot of the screen. ‘Cycling. 10km. 15 minutes. Begin.’ A machine again, oh joy.
The exercise bike was bathed by a spotlight. The clock already began to count down. She understood now why her feet were free of the heels. The target, though just about possible, would be tough. Her spinning classes would work in her favour, though had been taken in a previous life. She didn’t doubt she would do it but, hurrying to start her circuit, she was checked by the recording which started to play on the screen.
It was her. It was the day of her taking. They had recorded it. Recorded it all. Her wide eyes were stuck to the screen. Morbid fascination maybe but Katarina had no choice but to watch, rushing to the bike, mounting and driving against the pedals as the clock continued to tick down.
CHAPTER XXIII – Circuitry
The slender saddle pressed the twin insertions deeper inside. Katarina was alone now and dropped into her zone. Legs pumped pedals. She lacked the vigour she would normally drive into her spinning classes but then her body already buzzed with fatigue.
The screen was now showing the station, the unsteady shot hinting at the camcorder used to capture the scene. A soundtrack played in her ears. It was vivid, a graphic narration of the day that changed her life. Somehow it already felt so long ago.
On and on she drove, pumping the pedals, settling into a cadence with her eyes now screwed shut. She needed to concentrate and ignore the intrusive reminders of her place, and she tried to shut out the painful reminder that replayed on screen. A glance showed she had caught up and managed to offset the time but in that glance she had also seen the images and couldn’t escape the story being told through the earphones, much as she wanted them gone.
She was winning, pushing herself on. The last kilometre approached. Lactic acid started to scorch her thigh muscles. She was rocking slightly now to aid her efforts. Onward. The butt plug and phallus were nudging together, not helped by fatigue which now heeded her to rock, tenderising her insides. Endure. Push on. Pedal. Win.
Katarina opened her eyes. There was a countdown of distance and time. The scene displayed her in the preparation room, shot from a security camera high in one corner. It was close. She had slackened her pace in the last kilometre but it was clear she would do it.
With ten seconds to spare, the distance ticked to zero. The phallus buried deep inside surged. “Mistress Raven is your life.” The recording recited a well-worn phrase and Katarina twitched in pleasure even though panting her recovery.
Sagging against the handlebars, the vibrations continued. Katarina’s breathing deepened as she sucked in air around the gag which still hampered her breathing. She needed it. Her heart was racing from the exertion and the twinges of pleasure in her groan didn’t help.
“Thirty seconds of rest period remaining.” An electronic voice toned in her ears. Rest period? Katarina sat bolt upright. The text on the screen confirmed the message and continued the countdown.
The zero came up all too quickly and text flashed up with a new instruction. “Run. 5km. 15 minutes. Begin.” The inner vibration stilled and the scene on the display segued to show Katarina as part of the controversial window display.
She looked around. A machine was picked out in lights. The treadmill - that must be it. Rushing over, Katarina jumped on and started to run. She hated running. She had ever since she’d been forced to run cross country as a child, running and running until she vomited. While the cycling was her forte, this was anything but and not once had she seen a happy jogger.
Sweat started to bead beneath the impervious latex suit, prickling her with its own discomfort. Katarina pounded forward, striving to beat the clock, to win again. She could just stop, see what they did but she knew that wouldn’t end well. Anyway, the work out felt good, a rare pleasure in a punishing world, so Katarina pushed herself on.
The toys within her bounced but she ignored them, she wanted to win. She needed to, it was her middle finger to them. The thirty seconds of pleasurable vibrations was also an aim though Katarina was loathe to admit it. Her body still hadn’t come back to base camp from that, not with the plugs bouncing inside. It split her focus and she had to keep her eyes open to avoid stumbling. Those eyes followed what happened on screen while the video looped back to the start.
There must be something she could use, some mistake. Her mind raced, brow furrowing in concentration but her pace slowly slackened without her mind driving her on. She was becoming distracted. Pleasant sensatio
ns assaulted her. Katarina’s legs burned along their length now, calves joining thigh muscles in protest.
Almost too late, she remembered the countdown and looked at the distance remaining. Her horror was immediate. She had let herself drift, eased down too far. Katarina sprinted, she had to. The inserts within bounced wildly, constantly confirming their wicked presence. All style gone, she just ran, reaming herself in the process.
== ~ ==
Behind the mirrored wall a satisfied smile spread across lavishly painted lips. The girl was trying and trying hard, pushing herself to her limits to avoid a punishment she didn’t even know existed. Her training was proceeding well and she appeared to have the stamina to provide lengthy amusement. Her body was already toned. It had been well cared for, that was eminently clear as her muscles rippled visibly through the smoky transparency of the latex catsuit. She must be hurting now, the cycling and what was now sprinting would see lactic acid burning painfully.
A moan of satisfaction greeted the grunts of effort from within the room as the clock ticked down and the distance closed to zero. The scene on the screen was reprising the day of the girl’s taking again, now showing the street on her difficult journey to the railway station.