things come to an end, and so did Jade's naked, bound, gagged,
and uncomfortably cramped rolling journey to her next
The lid of the laundry cart popped open and her muscular,
amazonian housekeeper/handlers reached in and lifted her out and
plopped her on her stomach on a padded table. They then
buckled a wide, woven nylon belt across her arms and back and a
second across her thighs. She heard a zipping/ripping
sound as the belts tightened, and Jade was now in zero danger
of rolling off the table, either by accident or design.
She lifted her head and found she was in a large space with
tiled walls and floor and the general ambiance of a food
preparation or laundry space. In reality, however, it was
quite obviously a processing facility for naked female captives!
Two kinds of women were present: (1) Naked captives (like
Jade, herself); and (2) cat-suited, hooded, and masked
handlers. The two muscular amazons in housekeeping
uniforms who had delivered her were leaving the chamber, taking
the laundry cart with them.
Jade focused on the remaining handlers. Like the departing
housekeepers, all were muscular and tall. Their cat-suits
were black, skintight spandex, or some similar material, but
they evoked some sort of protective garb and uniform, not
dancers' leotards. They wore matching, skintight hoods
with oval face-masks of wire mesh, like the protection worn by
fencers. Between the masks, hoods, cat-suits, gloves, and
boots, not a single square-inch of skin was exposed to the air
and Jade had no clue as to any given individual's hair or skin
color. Jade was a scrapper, but by their heights,
well-developed musculature, obvious physical strength,
and the graceful way they moved, she knew any one of them could
take her in a fight, without question.
As for the captives, all were naked, female, fit, curvaceous,
and varied in age from 20-something to... older. Every
race and hair color was represented, all had attractive
features, all had their wrists bound behind their backs with
rubberized handcuffs, and were either ball-gagged or
It was something of an industrial operation, designed to see to
the captives' hygienic needs and get them bathed, fed, and out
the far door as efficiently as possible. The dozen or so
captives stood in an orderly line and patiently waited their
turns to be "processed" through each of four stations:
Bound in Dominique Payne's cruel cord bondage and strapped to
her padded table, Jade watched as captive after naked captive
was serviced. It all went smoothly. The captives
were all compliant, allowing themselves to be hustled from
station to station and processed like submissive
livestock. Fight, dammit! Jade silently
fumed. At least try. Granted, the handlers
were all giant amazon warriors and the captives were
periodically free for only very brief intervals before
being once again restrained, but do they have to be so
damn... docile? Jade resolved that if, or more
probably when, it was her turn, she would show
the cat-suited, She-Hulk handlers that Jade Porter was made of
- Personal hygiene. A handler led the next
captive in line to the next available of five chair-like,
stainless steel frameworks mounted to the floor over steel
commodes. She released the captive's wrist-cuffs and
clamped her to the frame in the sitting position by her
wrists and ankles. The handler then threw a lever and
the "chair" canted forward. There was a brief pause
while she removed the sterile packaging from a blunt plastic
probe, snapped it to the end of a narrow hose dangling from
an overhead reel, then inserted the probe into the captive's
anus. They get enemas! Jade realized. A
quart-sized, clear glass reservoir up near the ceiling
gurgled and emptied... and the handler removed the
probe. The bottle began to refill, the handler once
again threw the lever, and the "chair" returned the captive
to her original fully upright and seated position. The
captive was left to do her business while the handler
detached the used probe and dropped it in a small trash
container. Finally, the handler moved down the line to
the captive who had been sitting on her "throne" the
longest, released her, and led her to the next station.
- Bathing. The captive was handed off to a
second handler who restrained her in a four-point, standing
spread-eagle. The "bath attendant" removed her gag and
doused her from head to toe using a hose dangling from
a second ceiling-mounted reel. After her charge was
dripping wet, the handler scrubbed her glistening body with
a long-handled brush, repeatedly dipping it in a bucket of
soapy water. After a final, very thorough
rinse, the captive was released and hustled off to the next
- Feeding. A third handler secured the captive
to one of another five stainless-steel frameworks in a
kneeling position with her head back and clamped in place by
a rubber-padded posture collar. The handler thrust a
spring-loaded clamp into her mouth, propping it wide open,
then, what Jade could only characterize as an "automatic
feeding machine" was positioned above the captive's
involuntarily open mouth. A switch was thrown, and the
machine periodically dropped dollops of... something
into her gaping mouth. Jade best guess was that it was
oatmeal, but she had no way to be sure. Jade was
relieved to see that the captive was somehow managing to
swallow her "breakfast." Eventually, the feeding
machine beeped, signifying the end of the "meal." The
handler released the captive, then handed her off to a
- And out the door. The fourth handler cuffed
the captive's wrists behind her back, once again, and led
her towards an open doorway. Here, a row of steel
chains with attached steel collars dangled from a track
mounted in the ceiling. The handler clamped the next
collar in line around the captive's neck, pressed a button
on the wall, a motor hummed, and the chain began traveling
down the track and out the door, taking the collared captive
with it, of course. Where she went from here, Jade had
Suddenly, there was trouble in paradise. The next in line
to be processed was a late 30- or early 40-something brunette
with a tan, voluptuous body, firm, large breasts, narrow waist,
broad hips, a very pretty face, and flashing blue
eyes. She was naked and with her wrists cuffed behind her
back, like the other waiting captives, and was gagged by a strip
of ivory-colored, medical-style tape; however, as soon as the
handler peeled the tape from her lips—
"There's been a mistake!" the captive gasped. "Yesterday
was my last day. Today, I'm supposed to be released."
"Unlikely," the handler said.
"No." The captive tugged on her wrist-cuffs. "I'm
supposed to be set free. Check for yourself."
"Very well," the handler chuckled, "but you know the
rules. If you're being difficult—"
"Yes, yes, I know," the captive interrupted. "Just check,
The handler took a firm grip on the captive's left arm and led
her to a small screen set in the wall at head height.
"Smile for the camera," she said, "and for the facial
The captive attempted a smile, the screen flashed, and a photo
appeared. It was a head and shoulders portrait of the
captive, only she was clothed and her smile was decidedly more
genuine. The distance was too great for Jade to read the
text displayed underneath, but clearly the captive could, and it
wasn't making her happy.
"Plus two? Who the hell gave me two extra days?" She
tugged on her wrists-cuffs, again, and tossed the brown hair
from her face. "It has to be a mistake."
"Why a mistake?" the handler drawled through her mask, "because
you don't like it? Someone with the required clearance
gave you two additional days 'vacation' from your executive
duties, and that's all there is to it."
"No! It's a mistake!" The captive continued
struggling. Finally, the handler decided she'd had enough,
pulled the captive close, and clamped a gloved hand over her
"Silly creature," the handler purred. "I was willing to
let your petulant display pass, but now it's plus three,
and you'll serve the third day in the staff's Shibari
The captive squirmed and continued struggling. "Mrrrf!"
"Four days," the handler chuckled. "Would you care to try
The captive heaved a sigh, then relaxed in the handler's grip.
"I'll take that as no," the handler purred and released
her hand-gag. "Now," she continued as she removed the
captive's rubberized cuffs, "get your ass over to the commode
like a good little sex-puppet."
The captive said nothing as she was led to the hygiene station,
secured in place, and "processed." Even from across the
room, Jade could see the tears welling in the captive's sad,
blue eyes and dripping down her tan cheeks. It was
heartbreaking... not to mention completely bonkers.
One-by-one, over the course of the next hour, the captives were
processed, tethered to collars, and padded out the door—until
only Jade remained. Her resolve to fight, once the amazons
untied her, was unchanged. Jade Porter was nobody's
"sex-puppet." However, when the moment of truth arrived,
Jade found a total of five giant, muscular, cat-suited
handlers surrounding her table and gazing down at her through
their anonymous wire masks—five of them.
As the belts pinning her to the table melted away and gloved
fingers began untying her silver cord bonds, Jade relaxed and
heaved a sigh through the rubber ball filling her mouth and the
tape sealing her lips. Sometimes, discretion is
the better part of valor, but Jade hadn't surrendered.
Give me half a chance, she resolved, and somebody's
gonna get their butt kicked!
continued struggling, kicking, and tugging on her bonds, but her
only accomplishment was the loss of her left shoe. The
modestly priced, red, high-heeled pump fell from her squirming
foot, onto the table, then clattered to the floor. She
remained spreadeagled on her back on the glass-topped, lighted
table, her wrists and ankles bound in padded medical
restraints. Bonnie didn't bother trying to force any
comments and/or complaints about her treatment past the strip of
tape, adhesive film, or whatever was sealing her
lips. In the first place, there was no one present to hear
(and probably ignore) said comments and/or complaints. And
in the second place, Bonnie was too scared and frazzled for
Her surroundings were somewhat ominous... not that Bonnie could
see all that much. Between the blue-white light shining up
from the table below and the yellow-white light shining down
from the spotlights above, any details about the glass-fronted,
stainless steel cabinets lining the walls and their contents
were more-or-less lost in the glare. Given the clinical
ambiance, Bonnie imagined all sorts of ominous... medical stuff.
Better not go there, Bonnie decided, and settled in to
wait. All of this—her capture/arrest and current
restrained condition—had to be some sort of
misunderstanding. And the naked woman in bondage she'd
glimpsed during her "escape?" That was some sort of
fluke, she decided (rationalized), probably something
to do with one of the pre-production operations.
Bonnie had no knowledge of (nor had she heard any gossip about)
a PAYNECOM movie or TV production with naked, bound, and gagged
cast members, but that didn't mean one didn't exist. Maybe
the naked woman was on her way to a costume fitting.
Suddenly, the door whisked open, heels tapped on the linoleum
floor, and a diminutive, woman in a white lab coat strolled into
the light and smiled down at Bonnie. She had brown hair,
fair skin, attractive but quirky features, and sported a pair of
large, dark-rimmed glasses. Nerd, was Bonnie's
instant assessment. It wasn't a criticism. Bonnie
had nothing against nerds. In fact, in the opinion of
certain "mean girls" from Bonnie's high school days, she was
a nerd; but Bonnie thought of herself as "charmingly awkward," a
byproduct of her lanky frame and limited repertoire of dance
moves, not as a nerd.
"Miss Schnupp," the woman (short nerd) said, "I'm Dr. Folke,
Human Resources Research Fellow with the Payne Foundation.
I'll be conducting your interview."
Bonnie blinked in surprise and tugged on her restraints.
"Mrrrfh?" Interview? she wondered, and we
can't do that in your office? ...with you behind your
desk and me in a comfortable visitor's chair and sipping a
nice cup of coffee?
"Now," Dr.-Folke-the-Short-Nerd continued, "you've been
implicated in allegations of certain, shall we say, irregularities,
including security violations and the unauthorized accessing
of proprietary corporate data, so we'll have to clarify the
situation before you can return to your duties."
Bonnie continued blinking and weakly struggling. That
sounds reasonable. "Mrrrf?"
Dr. Folke smiled. "All in good time."
Bonnie watched as Folke strolled into the relative shadows and
began opening drawers and cabinets and loading objects onto a
stainless steel lab cart. She couldn't see what the
objects were, but she did see the occasional glint of
polished metal. Folke turned and wheeled the cart close to
the table, Bonnie lifted her head—and her blue eyes popped wide
in alarm. Her worst "medical" fears were confirmed!
An array of scissors, sheers, and clippers, all
stainless-steel—some with blunt tips and some wickedly sharp—and
ranging in size from delicate to heavy-duty—lay on a jade-green
cloth atop the cart!
Still smiling, Folke selected a pair of heavy, ratcheting shears
with a blunt tip, ignoring Bonnie's tape-muffled inquiry.
"Like any diligent intern," Folke purred, "I'm sure you're aware
of the provision in your contract for replacement of personal
property damaged or destroyed in the course of business-related
activities. Endorsement by a senior manager or executive
is required, and I'm pleased to reassure you that I have that
"Mrrk?" Bonnie froze in her bonds. Folke was using
the clippers to slice through the right sleeve of her
jacket! Smiling her slightly quirky and (given the
circumstances) disturbing smile, Folke worked her way
from the jacket's cuff to the shoulder-seam, then along the
shoulder-seam to the collar, and then through the collar.
Bonnie resumed squirming and mewling as Folke walked around the
table... then sliced her way down the left sleeve,
shoulder-seam, and collar. Folke released the jacket's
front buttons, then sliced her way up the left side of Bonnie's
Bonnie's business suit was not only ruined, but the remnants
were lying open on the glowing table!
Folke returned the clippers to the cart, selected a
medium-weight pair of bandage scissors, and began slicing open
Bonnie continued squirming and tugging on her padded leather
bonds, Folke continued ignoring her mewling complaints, and
continued destroying one of Bonnie's best and most favorite
business ensembles! Okay, it wasn't all that new and
wasn't her actual best jacket-skirt-blouse combo, but she
liked it—or rather, she used to like it. Now, it
was so much useless cloth, fit only for recycling.
"Blouse-ectomy" complete, Folke pulled the sliced garments from
under Bonnie's struggling form, having reduced her costume to
bra, panties, pantyhose, and right shoe.
Folke dropped the ruined clothes in a large, royal-blue
recycling bin, then replaced the medium bandage scissors with a
Bonnie shivered in her bonds. The ruination of her
nude-colored, Hanes® Natural Lift Wireless bra required only
three strategic snips, then it joined her outerwear in the bin.
Destructively removing Bonnie's "Nude," L'eggs® Sheer Energy
Active Support Leg pantyhose was a somewhat more involved
process, but Folke was up to the task. She removed
Bonnie's right heel and dropped it in the bin, then stooped and
retrieved her left shoe and it joined its red, high-heeled
mate. Bonnie squirmed as the blunt side of the scissors
slid down her right leg from hip to ankle... and then her left
leg. Finally, Folke freed her feet and toes from the
clinging nylon fabric and tossed the desecrated pantyhose into
Thanks to to the glare reflecting off her glasses, Bonnie
couldn't see the good doctor's eyes, but from her continuing
smile, the diminutive doctor seemed to be enjoying her
work. Bonnie's "Toasted Coconut," Vanity Fair® Body Caress
Ultimate Bikini Panties required only two snips, and now she was
nude, as in naked, as in strapped down in a loose spread-eagle
without any clothes!
It was embarrassing, not to mention mortifying, humiliating,
frightening... and a little cold... or cool. Now that her
bare skin was getting used to it, the air temperature was
actually a little warm. However... naked!
"Well now," Dr. Folke purred as she gazed down at Bonnie's
naked, writhing body, "excellent muscle tone, low body fat
index, flat tummy, 'innie' bellybutton, smooth skin, and a solid
two on the Fitzpatrick index. Not especially large
breasts, but nicely shaped." She lifted a pair of latex
gloves from the cart and snapped them on with practiced
ease. "Let's begin your physical examination, shall we?"
"Nrrrff!" Bonnie objected, but apparently Folke's question had
been rhetorical, she didn't require Bonnie's consent, and
considered her opinion irrelevant.
Much to Bonnie's distress, and with firm but gentle pressure,
Folke began pressing and probing her abdomen with her latex-clad
fingertips. "Mrrrpfh!" Apparently (obviously) when
Folke said "physical examination," she meant it! It didn't
exactly tickle, but Bonnie couldn't help but squirm.
Folke's gloved hands continued gliding and gently probing along
Bonnie's body, including her arms, legs, neck, thighs, and bare
Next, Folke did something truly despicable (in Bonnie's
nonobjective opinion): she tickled the sole of Bonnie's left
foot with the latex-covered digits of her right hand!
'Eeeeeeeeem!" Bonnie squealed through her tape-sealed
lips, squirmed, shivered, and tugged on her bonds with all her
strength, but she couldn't escape from the leather cuffs or Dr.
Folke's fluttering fingers.
"Very responsive," Folke chuckled. "I thought you
looked the type." Next, she stepped to the mid-point of
the table, reached down, and cupped Bonnie's crotch.
Bonnie froze in her bonds, her heart hammering and her breasts
heaving as she panted through her flaring nostrils. Still
smiling and with her eyes still hidden behind the glare from her
glasses, Folke began a slow, gentle caress of Bonnie's
labia. "Mrrrf!" Bonnie shivered and squirmed, but
could do nothing to make her examiner stop massaging and thereby
stimulating some of her most sensitive and private
nerve endings. The massage continued... Bonnie continued
moaning through her tape-gag and tugging on her restraints...
then Folk slid her fingers between Bonnie's labia and into her
Folke slid her latex-clad fingers in and out of Bonnie's
pussy... slowly... repeatedly. Then, Folke withdrew her
hand and examined the tips of her fingers. "Hmm... no
clear evidence of arousal," she purred. "I seem to have
landed something of a cold fish." She patted Bonnie's flat
stomach (and her "innie" bellybutton). "Not to
worry. We can help you with that."
'That?' Bonnie silently demanded. What
'that?' And what 'help?'
Folke cupped Bonnie's breasts with her gloved hands and gave
the modest globes a gentle, simultaneous squeeze.
"Mrrrpfh!" Bonnie shuddered and squirmed, but Folke
continued her examination.
"An adequate handful," Folke purred, "and firm." She
massaged Bonnie's nipples, and they became flushed and
erect. "Normal response," Folke assessed. "I think
we can work with these."
'Work?' Bonnie was anything but reassured, of
course. She continued squirming, but her struggles were an
attempt to release nervous energy. Bonnie knew she was
Just then, the door opened and Marina, Folke's statuesque and
muscular Latina receptionist entered the room. "Excuse me,
doctor," she said, "but you have a call from the top floor on
Folke sighed, frowned, then removed her gloves and tossed them
back on the cart. "How can I work with these constant
interruptions?" She gazed at Bonnie and indicated her
naked, tape-gagged, spreadeagled, and embarrassed form with a
flip of her right wrist. "Moisturize, shave, and get her
ready for questioning in..." She focused on Marina.
"I believe room nine is free, doctor," Marina answered, her
smiling brown eyes on the blond captive writhing on the glowing
table. "Is that shave her completely, or just her
legs and armpits?"
Folke gazed down at Bonnie's obviously, very worried,
tape-gagged face. "Hmm... you know how I hate it when hair
gets caught in the machinery. Give her a close
trim." With that final pronouncement, Folke turned and
left the room. The door whisked closed behind her.
Bonnie continued struggling as she watched Marina wheel the cart
back to the cabinets, put away the scissors and shears, and
replace them with new items from various cabinets and
drawers. She returned to the table (and Bonnie) with a
cart laden with a plastic pump-bottle of Olay® Silky Berry Body
Lotion, a can of Pure Silk® Raspberry Mist shave cream, a
stainless steel safety razor, a compact electric trimmer, a
stack of white cotton towelettes, a two-liter bottle of water,
and a stainless steel basin. She watched as the Latina
splashed some water into the basin, then wet a towelette.
Bonnie had questions—so many questions—and foremost among
them (at the moment) was exactly what Folke had meant
by her assertion that she hated it when hair got caught in the
machinery! What machinery??
the worst part of being "processed" was the humiliation—being
handled like a squirming toddler—getting her first ever
enema—being spreadeagled and bathed—being force-fed what she
could now confirm was warm, plain oatmeal. It was
humiliating. It was all humiliating.
She fought, squirmed, struggled, and, once her gag was removed,
swore like the proverbial sailor, but her outraged resistance
was pointless. Jade was convinced even one of the
giant, cat-suited, musclebound amazons could have handled
her—albeit with some degree of difficulty, unless Jade
got in a spectacularly lucky punch. Two of them
could have handled her with trivial ease. So, why did five
of the anonymous She-Hulks feel the need to share the task
of processing feisty little Jade? The only logical
explanation was that they got a collective charge out
of her futile, pathetic, ineffectual struggles.
It was humiliating.
Finally, squeaky clean (in and out) and her tummy comfortably
full of oatmeal, the amazons cuffed her wrists behind her back
and her ankles together with a second pair of rubber-clad cuffs,
then stuffed a ball-gag in her cursing mouth and buckled it
tight at the nape of her neck. Naked and squirming on the
floor, Jade watched as the handlers debated which two of them
would complete the task of carrying out the next stage of their
instructions (the details of which they didn't feel the need to
share with her). A round of rock-paper-scissors
ensued, followed by one of the two victors lifting Jade onto her
shoulder in a fireman's carry, and the second leading the way
out the door.
Face down, her cuffed, kicking feet to the fore, and her
thrashing head behind, Jade watched the tiles give way to carpet
as they transported her down the hallway. There wasn't
much to see, other than featureless walls, the receding
corridor, and her handler's black leather boots and black
spandex-clad legs and back. They didn't pass any other
pedestrians, nor handlers (with or without naked captives over
their shoulders), nor business men and/or women in suits, nor
naked captives dripping wet from the Aqua Lounge.
Their destination was a large room with a high ceiling,
rubber-clad walls, and textured rubber matting on the
floor. The tasteful color scheme was more-or-less the same
as the hallway, but clearly the place was designed for ease of
cleanup—which Jade found to be somewhat ominous. The
handler eased her off her shoulder. Then, with the second
handler's assistance, she replaced her bonds with wide,
well-padded wrist cuffs attached to steel chains that traveled
up to motorized winches running in a track set in the ceiling
and matching ankle cuffs connected by more chains to rings set
in the floor.
Jade was now in a standing spread-eagle, the same position in
which she'd received her "bath" back in the tiled chamber.
Her feet were flat on the rubberized floor, but she had very little slack in her
chains. She tugged on her bonds and glared at her
handlers' backs as they made their exit. "Mrrrrf!" You
better run! she fumed. The door whisked closed, and
Jade heaved a gagged sigh.
Minutes passed... and turned into an hour. Jade stood
impassively in her bonds. She didn't have any other viable
options. She couldn't take a nap, even if she'd been able
to calm her mind enough to relax. Hanging from the
wrists-cuffs would be unpleasant, if not painful, and after
being bound and gagged and rolling on the floor of her "new
office" most of the night, her muscles and joints were already
Finally, the door whisked open, there was a brief, dramatic
pause, then Jade's eyes popped wide—"Mrrrf?"—as two women
entered the rubber-clad room.
One was the Evil Queen, herself, Dominique Payne! As
usual, she wore one of her hideously expensive, custom tailored
little-black-dresses. A chilling smile curled the
thin, pale lips of the Ruler-of-the-Tower.
The other woman was naked, leather-bound, and hooded by a loose
sack of black cloth. Jade had no idea who she was, other
than a fit, curvaceous, White woman with good muscle tone,
smooth skin, a tan complexion, firm breasts, and a flat
tummy. The hood's fabric appeared to be light-tight, so as
far as Jade could tell, the woman was effectively
blindfolded. Her arms were folded behind her back and
encased in a tight, black leather arm-binder from armpit to
armpit. In addition, a black leather body-harness of thin
straps yoked her shoulders, pinned her upper-arms to her torso,
encircled her waist, anchored the arm-binder against her back,
and dove between her legs, cleaving her dark pubic bush and
labia. Her long, tan, toned legs were completely bare.
Dominique smiled at Jade but said nothing. She led her
anonymous prisoner by a leather leash clipped to the center of a
light steel chain connecting a pair of spring-loaded clamps
squeezing the captive's nipples.
"Down," Dominique ordered, "and cross your legs." The
captive planted her feet, tested her inescapable leather bonds,
and shook her hooded head—"Nrrrf!—but a callous jerk on
the leash changed her mind. She settled to the rubber
matting and crossed her legs in a semi-lotus. Dominique
stooped, looped the leash around the captive's ankles, then
pulled out the slack until the nipple-clamp chain snapped taut
and the prisoner was forced to lean forward in a crunch.
Dominique took another turn around the captive's ankles, tied a
saddle-hitch, then stood.
Jade could tell the prisoner was in something of a
predicament. The nipple-clamp chain and leash enforced a
crouched position that had to be uncomfortable and would no
doubt become increasingly so as time passed.
Still smiling at Jade, Dominique clutched the top of the sitting
captive's hood and jerked it from her head.
The prisoner shook a curtain of long, brown hair from her face,
blinked her eyes, then focused on Dominique and glared in
anger. She then shifted her gaze to Jade, her eyes popped
wide, and she screamed through the ball-gag strapped in
her mouth. "MRRRPFH!"
"NRRRM!" Jade screamed back through her ball-gag.
The cross-legged, naked, uncomfortably and involuntarily
crouching captive was none other than Audrey Klein,
Dominique watched the gagged exchange, if you could call it
that, between the studio head and her intern with obvious
glee. Both prisoners tugged on their bonds... then both
turned to glare at Dominique.
Dominique focused her evil, gloating smile on Audrey.
"Yes, I know all about your little plan," she purred. "I
know about your efforts to force a vote of no confidence in the
next PAYNECOM board meeting and have Sorcha replace me as
CEO. There's no use denying it. Sorcha, herself, as
well as several members of the board informed me of your
Audrey shifted her now clearly alarmed gaze from Dominique to
Jade and back.
"I don't yet know Miss Porter's involvement in your pathetic
scheme," Dominique said, "but rest assured, Dr. Folke will
ferret out all the details. At the moment, she's
busy interviewing another possible member of your conspiracy,
but then she'll turn her full attention to Miss Porter. In
the meantime, I might as well indulge myself."
Audrey and Jade watched as Dominique turned and strolled to the
rubber-clad wall, thumbed a button, and the hidden door of a
large, built-in cabinet opened. An interior light winked
on, revealing a neat row of whips, crops, floggers, and canes
hanging from hooks.
Audrey and Jade reacted simultaneously and with the same
Dominique selected a flogger with twenty or more long, pliant
tails, kicked off her Italian, custom-made, high-heeled pumps,
then positioned herself behind Jade's back. "I find
disloyalty to be an especially egregious shortcoming in
a business associate," she said as she flexed her arms and
twisted at the waist in what was obviously a warm-up
exercise. The tails of the flogger fluttered and came
together with a dry rattle as she pumped her arms. "I have
nothing against Miss Porter, and a thorough flogging is a very
poor reward for her loyalty, but you know what they
say about breaking eggs to make omelets." She focused her
smile on Audrey. "This is your fault, Ms. Klein,"
she purred, drew back her right arm... and struck!
"MRRRF!" Jade screamed as her back exploded in
pain. Blow followed blow as Dominique worked over her
back, buttocks, and upper thighs. It was painful, but more
on the order of a series of mild bee stings than agony. It
was unpleasant, to be sure, but again, the humiliation was the
worst part. Jade couldn't help but flinch each time the leather
thongs slapped her skin, but found she could take it.
Audrey, on the other hand, took her intern's undeserved
punishment not at all well. She squirmed and strained
against her bonds, which Jade thought probably caused her boss
as much pain as Dominique's flogger inflicted on her back.
The clamps pinching Audrey's nipples tightened and tugged as she
struggled. Tears streamed down Audrey's ball-gagged face
and Jade found her expression to be quite heartbreaking.
Jade locked eyes with her boss and tried to reassure her that
all would be well, but her own eyes welled with tears, making
her blink, and the ball-gag seriously compromised her
communication skills. Also, she had no idea what was
really happening. Apparently, she'd stumbled into the
realm of executive intrigue at the highest level, and things
were playing out with a generous helping of kinky, not to
mention felonious, shenanigans.
Dominique continued wielding the flogger, Jade continued
flinching and bravely enduring her ordeal, and Audrey continued
weeping and watching.