"That position does *not* look comfortable... not all night, anyway."
The B-Files
T H E     B O N D A G E     I S     O U T    T H E R E
by Van ©2009
___ ___

Chapter 9

The see the actresses I would cast in B-Files THE MOVIE, follow the link below and use your browser's "Back" feature to return.



Scully was more angry than scared.  In fact, she was hardly scared at all.  Nervous, yes; but not scared... much.

After all, it wasn't like this was her first experience as a helpless captive.  She'd been bound and gagged in the trunk of a car for two very uncomfortable days—bound, gagged, and almost decapitated and eaten by an entire town of cannibals—duct-taped to a chair and rescued within seconds of receiving an icepick lobotomy—and she'd been bound and gagged by a serial rapist/killer, twice, the second time in this very apartment!  And that didn't even count the times she'd been handcuffed, drugged, slimed, knocked around, and abducted by various people and... things.  Sometimes Scully felt like she'd clocked more damsel-in-distress time than Lois Lane, but she knew her experiences had more to do with being Fox Mulder's partner than anything else... only this time Mulder wasn't involved.

Anyway, her previous experiences had been terrifying—but not this time.  She was certain Bondarella and her gang wouldn't harm her, and neither would Claudia, for that matter.  No, Scully wasn't afraid... just pissed off!

She was also hungry.

Apparently, Claudia Bosco was a very good cook.  Working with skill and flair (as far as Scully could tell), the Italian turncoat had produced what by all appearances (and aroma) was a spectacular meal: caesar salad—oven roasted eggplant and squash—penne pasta with sausage, artichokes, and sun-dried tomatoes—flank steak in a red wine sauce—and for dessert, a berry and peach crisp with amaretto cookie topping.  This dirtied virtually every pot, pan, and utensil that Scully owned, and they were now piled on her counter and in her sink.

Throughout, Scully remained roped in her chair in a sitting hog-tie, with her bare feet inches off the floor, her ankles lashed to the chair's back rail, and her wrists crossed behind her back in a semi-reverse-prayer.  Her white cotton blouse was unbuttoned and open under the web of hemp binding her arms to her sides, and her suit skirt was hiked up, exposing her rope-dimpled thighs.  The brown leather and green rubber ball-gag (with chin strap) was still in place.  Scully was a helpless, disheveled, and angry captive, glaring at her captors and trying (without success) to control the drool oozing around the translucent sphere filling her mouth.

As Claudia set the table—with only two settings, of course—Bondarella strolled into the bathroom and returned with Scully's hairbrush.  "I'm going to straighten those pretty titian locks," her masked kidnapper announced, and proceeded to do just that.

Scully stared straight ahead as the bristles tugged and slid through her hair.  What was the point in trying to resist?  It was a strange experience... being bound, gagged, and pampered.

Grooming complete, Bondarella tossed the brush into the living room and reached into a jacket pocket.  She produced a rolled strip of dark jade silk, which she let fall open in her gloved hand.  It was about a yard in length, tapered at both ends, and had a shallow notch cut in one side, at its center.

It was a blindfold.  Scully sighed and stared at her captor.

"I'll be much more comfortable if I can enjoy Signorina Bosco's cooking without my mask," Bondarella explained, "so I'm afraid that means you'll need one.  I came prepared."

A green and brown gag, supposedly selected just for me, Scully thought, and now a color-coordinated blindfold.  She did come prepared.  Scully held her head steady as the notch in the silk bandage settled over the bridge of her nose and the ends were wrapped around her head, twice, from either side, and then cinched and knotted behind her head.  Again, there was no point in resisting.

Her captors, the Master Kidnapper and the Traitor, enjoyed a leisurely meal, chatting in Italian.  Scully could understand very little, no more than the occasional word.  From the tone, she got the distinct impression that Bondarella and Claudia were comfortable in each others presence, but, blindfolded and only able to listen, she could be sure of nothing else.  Her stomach grumbled.  The food smelled delicious and her captors seemed to be enjoying themselves...which included their appreciation of the spectacle of a bound and gagged "dining companion", no doubt.

Eventually, the meal was over.  Scully could hear her captors moving around her apartment, but, as her blindfold remained in place, she had no idea what they were actually doing.  However, she was sure they were not cleaning up after themselves.  When all this was over, whenever they finished doing whatever they intended to do to her and she was finally released—together with her missing team members, she hoped—Scully fully expected to return to a kitchen cluttered with pots, pans, utensils, dinnerware, plates, and wine glasses encrusted with dried food.  She sighed and let her head loll.  What a silly thing to worry about, she chided herself.

Minutes passed... and turned into hours... probably.  Bondarella and Claudia continued chatting in Italian.  At one point they may have gone into Scully's bedroom and done... something.  Scully might have heard a little heavy breathing and moaning.  Again, she couldn't be sure of exactly what was happening.

Eventually, Scully actually dozed off—then snapped awake when she realized her captors were untying her from the chair—but only from the chair.  From knees to shoulders, her hemp bonds remained intact, as did her gag and blindfold.  Her ankles were untied, and remained untied.

A pair of shoes slid onto her feet, and she was hauled from the chair.  A pair of pumps with low heels, Scully realized.  Probably my pumps.  They were too comfortable to be anything else.

"We're going for a ride," Bondarella purred in Scully's ear.  "The street is dark and completely deserted, and all your neighbors will see, should they be awake, is Scully and a couple of her friends driving away.  No one will realize you're bound and gagged."

Claudia spoke into Scully's other ear.  "And just to be sure..."

Scully felt something—a jacket—settle over her shoulders.

"You're going to be a good girl and cooperate, of course," Bondarella said.  "The alternative is a kiss from my taser, and you get to ride in the trunk, as cargo.  And so, you're going to cooperate, agreed?"

Been there and done that, Scully fumed, and nodded her gagged and blindfolded head.

"Good girl," Bondarella chuckled.

Sandwiched between her captors, Scully was led from her apartment, down her front walk to the street, and into the back of a car—she assumed it was the back of a car.  She was pushed through a door and onto the floor, with someone climbing in after her.  Scully tried to rise, but a pair of boots settled on her butt and pushed her back down.

"Now, now," Bondarella chuckled, "let's keep you low and out of sight, shall we?"

Scully sighed and squirmed for comfort.  The boots were Bondarella's, obviously.  It wasn't too bad, despite the hump in the floor.  It was better than the trunk, of that she was sure.

The driver's door opened, someone climbed behind the wheel, and the door slammed.  The engine purred to life and Claudia (the driver, Scully could now confirm) rattled off a phrase in Italian.

Bondarella laughed.  "She asked me to please fasten my seatbelt," Bondarella said, for Scully's benefit.  "A pity there are no belts on the floor.  I'll just have to use my boots to keep you safe."

Scully squirmed in place.  A couple of comedians, she fumed.

The car pulled into the street and drove away, into the night.
The B-Files
Chapter 9
Wherever they were going, the trip was no more than fifteen minutes.  Of course, at this time of night (or more correctly, of morning) even the Washington area streets were virtually empty, so, they could have made it to almost anywhere inside the beltway in that time.  They pulled into an enclosed space (a garage?) and rolled to a halt.  Car doors opened, Scully was hauled out of the back, and the doors slammed.  Still bound, gagged and blindfolded, she was hustled down a hallway.  The sound of their tapping heels echoed from what was probably a concrete floor, but Scully had no other clue as to the nature of their surroundings.

There was a pause while a door was unlocked, then, Scully's jacket was removed and she was pulled forward and forced first to her knees, and then onto her stomach.  She was on some sort of padded surface.  Her pumps were pulled from her feet, and then her captors began untying her bonds.  She assumed they were still Bondarella and Claudia, but they worked in silence.  Scully tried to struggle, as more and more of the ropes melted away, but her handlers remained in total control.

Her wrists were untied, together with the ropes pinning her arms, but were immediately pulled down to the small of her back, held together, and retied.  Her blouse was pulled off her shoulders, her bra unhooked, and the garments pulled down around her wrists and hands.  Then, her arms were pressed together until her elbows touched, and some sort of broad, elastic tape was used to bind them together.  Her wrists were untied, again, and her blouse and bra were stripped away.  Then, her hands were held palm-to-palm, and more tape was used to mummify her wrists, hands, thumbs, and fingers.

Next, something was pulled up and over her arms, some sort of sleeve, probably of leather.  Its end cupped Scully's tape-wrapped hands and fingers, like a tight mitten.  Then, a broad strap tightened around her wrists and was secured with three buckles.

Scully was lifted onto her knees, which were still bound together, and a pair of leather-clad legs closed around her head and shoulders.  She was trapped, bent forward at the waist with her captor's thighs clamped around her neck.  A pair of hands began doing something with the sleeve, and it began to grow progressively tighter.  She heard and felt slithering sounds, and surmised laces were being threaded through grommets in the sleeve and tightened.  This continued until the sleeve was virtually skintight, then (apparently), a knot was tied.

Scully's head remained trapped between Bondarella's thighs (she assumed it was Bondarella) and her other handler (Claudia?) clutched her right breast, stretched it down, and pulled it through some sort of smooth, rounded metal ring or hoop.  Her breast was released and her left breast received similar treatment.  Next, a connecting strap was tightened and buckled, and then a pair of straps that yoked her shoulders.  The straps were all linked to the sleeve, and anchored its top and pinned her arms to her upper torso.  The metal rings incorporated in the straps acted as a sort of bra, lifting and supporting her now bulging breasts.  Another strap was tightened, this time around her waist and the forearm portion of the sleeve.  It also had a metal ring; but this one was smaller.  It framed her navel and the strap was tight enough to dimple her flesh and press the cool metal ring into her tummy.

Next, Bondarella opened her thighs and released Scully's head, and she was pushed back down onto the padded floor.  Her skirt was unbuttoned and unzipped and pulled down her legs, and her panties were cut and ripped from her body.  Then, one of her handlers knelt on her upper body, with her knees to either side of her hips.  She surmised it was Claudia, from the feel of smooth pantyhose and a wool-blend skirt against her bare skin.  Her other captor, the leather-clad Bondarella, knelt on her legs.  Scully mewled a complaint through her gag and tried to squirm, but she was effectively immobilized.  All she could do was shake her head and point her feet.

Scully felt a cool pad, probably an alcohol swab, glide over her lower back, near her right hip.  It was over her tattoo of the Ourboros, the serpent swallowing its own tail, that she'd allowed to be needled into her skin at what she now considered to have been a moment of inebriated stupidity.  Air blew over the wet area, and she felt a chill.  Next, a soft point of some sort began sliding over the same patch of skin.  It was over in less than two seconds, only a matter of a few strokes of... a marker of some sort?  There was another pause, then a hissing sound, and a cool vapor settled over the same area.  Seconds passed... and Scully became aware of a slight fishy taste on the back of her tongue.  Dimethyl sulfoxide! she realized.  DMSO is a powerful solvent, and has the property of carrying dissolved chemicals through the skin.  What the hell is she doing to me?  Scully tried squirming free, again, with the same ineffectual result.  More cool air passed over her skin, and the fishy taste faded.

Scully's captors finally climbed off her body, but they weren't finished messing with her.  Rolling and lifting her, as required, they pried her thighs as far apart as her knee bonds would allow, and slid a cylindrical object of some sort, probably a dildo (!), into her vagina.  It wasn't particularly thick or long, and it was lubricated, thank god.  A narrow strap followed, threaded through a slot in the base of the intruder and buckled through the ring in front that framed her bellybutton.  Scully squirmed and struggled, and found that the crotch-strap was anchored to the back of the broad wrist-cuff incorporated in the sleeve.  Her efforts caused the strap and dildo to slide and move.  It was... unsettling... and humiliating.

She was hauled to her bare feet, and then her captors released her, completely.  Scully gave a tentative twist of her shoulders, and took an awkward step, encumbered by her bound knees.  The sleeve was virtually welded to her torso, and her efforts tugged on the metal hoops trapping her breasts and the strap cleaving her crotch.  And, once again, her struggles caused the thing lodged in her most intimate place to move.

Scully growled through her gag.  She couldn't help herself.  It was humiliating, frustrating, and infuriating to be treated in this manner.

"Perfect," Bondarella purred.  "Everything fits perfectly.  Thank you, bella," she added, apparently addressing Claudia.  "Your active role in this operation is over."

Scully heard the sound of a long, wet kiss... and then she was embraced, and a kiss was planted on her right cheek.

"It has been a pleasure working with you, Dana," Claudia whispered in her ear, in an infuriatingly teasing manner.  "I hope we have a chance to spend more time together, in the future."

Scully squirmed and tried to pull away, but Claudia held her close.  She squealed through her gag as Claudia scraped her nails across the taut, bulging flesh of her right breast, including her now very sensitive nipple.  The hand slid down her stomach, pausing to trace the ring framing her navel, then caressed the strap cleaving her labia and anchoring the dildo.  Scully clenched her thighs, shivered, and tried to ignore what the traitor's smooth hand was doing to her.

"There are many, many things I would like to show you, Dana," Claudia continued, then licked Scully's neck, above the gag's strap and under her left ear.

Scully whined in disgust and frustration, then Claudia released her hold.  Scully stutter-stepped in place and fought her bonds.  She heard the sound of heels tapping away, and a door opening.  "Arrivederci!" Bondarella called.

"Ciao!" Claudia replied, then Scully heard the door close.

Scully flinched as Bondarella grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her several paces to the side.  Her bare feet left the padded surface and she stepped onto a cool, hard floor that felt like concrete.

"Stand still," Bondarella ordered, and began untying her blindfold.  The silk slithered and fell away—and Scully blinked in the sudden light.
The B-Files
Chapter 9
Scully found herself standing before three full-length mirrors, staring at her own reflection in full-front and left and right profile.  Bondarella was a pace behind her, and now her features were covered by a full mask, similar in style to the half-mask she's worn back at the apartment.

The leather sleeve buckled and laced around Scully's arms matched the brown color and subtly distressed finish of the straps of her gag.  The buckles, the over-sized rings of her "bra", and the ring framing her navel also matched the gag's bronze hardware.  In an added refinement, much of the leather of the sleeve was tooled in a Celtic knot pattern.

"A truly beautiful ensemble, don't you agree?" Bondarella inquired.

The question was rhetorical, when asked of a gagged captive.  Scully glared at the reflection of her masked captor.

Bondarella chuckled and pointed to Scully's right hip.  "And look," she purred, "I've given you something to remember me by."

Scully's tattoo... "improved".Scully did a quarter turn, focused on her tattoo—and her eyes popped wide.  The Ourboros serpent on her lower back now encircled a capital "B"!

"Don't have a cow, Agent Scully," Bondarella purred.  "It isn't permanent.  I used a henna-based pigment.  My autograph should start to fade in about a month, and it should be completely gone in... six to eight months?"

Scully would have stomped her feet in frustration, and certainly would have tried to kick her infuriatingly smug kidnapper, but the hemp binding her knees continued to make this impossible.

"I have another present for you," Bondarella said, and held up a circular metal band of antique gold.  It was perhaps an eighth of an inch thick, a half-inch wide, something like six inches in diameter, and was engraved with Celtic knots, like the tooling on the sleeve.  She stepped forward and opened the band.

Scully was very angry, but not to the point of uncontrolled rage.  She "let" Bondarella close the thing around her throat.  Eventually, she hoped to have an opportunity to fight back, when she wasn't bound and her actions would count for something.  The band clicked closed with an authoritative snap, and hugged her neck with the snug fit appropriate of a choker.

"It appears to be gold," Bondarella purred, "but is actually a very hard titanium alloy with gold electroplating.  It locks with interlocking, spring-loaded titanium pins, and it's on to stay, I'm afraid."

Scully stared into her kidnapper's blue-green eyes, framed by the openings of her mask.  On to stay?

"Oh, don't fret, beautiful," Bondarella chuckled.  "I'm afraid you'll have to use a diamond saw to remove your pretty new collar, but I'm sure someone in the FBI's famous crime lab will be willing to help... once I let you go."

Bondarella reached out and turned Scully's new choker one-hundred-eighty degrees.  Scully watched in the mirrors as the closure came into view, revealing a one-inch ring dangling from a small swivel-mount.  "Actually," Bondarella continued, "if you keep the choker turned and this ring hidden under your hair—"  She lifted the ring and gave it a gentle tug.  "—you'll simply be making an ethnic fashion statement, so why hurry?  Give it a chance.  You might decide you like it."

Scully stared at her reflections.  Bulging through the metal rings of the bra strap, her breasts were flushed a peachy shade of pink.  As she watched, a string of drool dropped from her chin and landed on her left breast.  Disgusting.  She had to admit the brown, richly textured leather and the bronze hardware did complement her hair and complexion.  I'll have to find a leather coat like this... afterwards.  She sighed through her ball-gag.  And why the hell am I thinking about that at a time like this? she wondered.  She knew the reason.  It was a defensive mechanism, a way for her mind to find a focus on something other than rage... or despair.

Bondarella turned Scully around and snapped the clip of a braided leather leash to the choker's ring.  "There's more to your ensemble," she said, "in the main room."  She straightened Scully's hair with her gloved fingers.  "And I have some very interesting things to show you."
The B-Files
Chapter 9
Scully shuffled along at the end of Bondarella's leash, encumbered by her knee bonds and trying not to stumble.  She tried to ignore the sensations caused by the dildo that moved and quivered in her vagina with each abbreviated step.  The damn thing seemed to vibrate and throb, and she suspected it might have some sort of mechanism incorporated in its interior, perhaps a stack of free-moving steel balls sliding and pinging together inside a frictionless channel.

She followed her captor down a narrow hall.  The walls were drywall painted a dull white.  The marginally adequate lighting was provided by a row of fluorescent fixtures in a drop ceiling, and the floor was stained and sealed concrete, as she'd suspected.  They came to a curtained doorway, and Bondarella parted the panels and led Scully through.

The space beyond was large and open, with a high ceiling.  The central area was brightly lit by a system of track lighting, but whatever was beyond was lost in gloom and shadow.  A square carpet, perhaps ten yards on a side, was directly under the lights.  At the nearest edge of the carpet an electric winch was bolted to the floor, and across the other three sides, tall, standing screens of dark cloth stretched in metal frames hid whatever was behind.  In front of each of the three screens, Scully could see what appeared to be a pair of joined pet bowls, the kind that were one unit, stamped and molded from a single sheet of aluminum.

"It's exposition time," Bondarella said, and led Scully onto the carpet and towards the center screen.

The carpet's pile was thick and soft under Scully's bare feet.  It was a blend of sage and olive-green hues, woven in a subtle, swirling leaf pattern.  They approached the screen, and Scully could see that the joined bowls were bolted to the floor, through the carpet.  A small copper disk was in the bottom of each bowl, and insulated copper studs were flush-mounted on each rim, evenly spaced around each bowl's circumference.  Finally, an electrical cable emerged from the far side of the bowl unit and passed under the screen.

"Allow me to explain," Bondarella said, gesturing to the bowls.  "If you were lying on your stomach on the carpet, squirmed forward, and squashed your breasts into the bowls, and I mean really squashed them into the bowls, to the point that they were more-or-less filled to capacity, your nipples would trigger the pressure plates—"  She indicated the copper disks.  "—which would close a circuit.  I'll tell you why you might want to do that shortly, but first..."

Leaving Scully standing in place, Bondarella grabbed the edge of the screen's frame and gave it a shove.  It rolled away on squealing wheels to reveal—

Scully's eyes widened and a moan escaped her gag.

"The first installation in my little gallery," Bondarella purred.
The B-Files
Chapter 9
The "first installation" was Gracie Hart!

Gracie was nude, and her upper body was bound with white silk rope in Bondarella's signature style—the crossed-wrist, reverse-prayer box-tie.  She was straddling an upright metal post, sitting on a tiny metal saddle.  Her bare legs were not bound in any way, but the height of the saddle required her to stand on tiptoe.  A diamond-studded (or more probably rhinestone-studded) tiara graced her brow, and her hair was piled high in an elegant, formal coif.  Tasteful (albeit heavy) makeup enhanced her features, and her lips were painted a bright, ruby red around the ball-gag filling her mouth.  The gag's narrow leather strap was dyed metallic silver, and its rubber ball was clear, with a faceted interior that suggested a huge diamond.  A pair of diamond pendants dangled from her earlobes, and a second, much larger pair dangled from silver clips clamped to her nipples.  A white banner hanging between two posts behind her read:


Scully and Gracie locked eyes.  This was hardly a happy reunion, but Scully was relieved to see that she was "okay".   Gracie's surprise and dismay at finding Scully a fellow prisoner was evident, but so was her unbroken spirit.  She examined Scully's bondage (and nude body), then shifted her gaze to Bondarella's mask and growled through her gag.

"Miss New Jersey's perch incorporates a dildo, of course," Bondarella explained to Scully, "which is why she doesn't simply hop down and stroll away.  And don't worry that her tootsies will get tired and she'll harm herself.  Taking her full weight on the saddle would be somewhat painful, but it will carry her.  She won't be impaled.  Also, if you look closely, there's a thin wire stretching from her wrist bonds and up to an eye-bolt in the ceiling.  It will keep her upright, even if she should pass out.  It's also another reason she won't be going for a walk any time soon."

Scully and Gracie locked eyes, again, and sighed.

"Now," Bondarella continued, "pay close attention, Agent Scully."  She reached over and patted Gracie's lower tummy, just above the compressed lips of her shaved sex.  "Agent Hart's penetrating friend is electrified, and it's also a vibrator.  It can entertain and punish."  She pointed down, towards a light-rope, a tube of clear plastic containing LED bulbs.  It was stretched across the front of the "installation" and tacked down to the floor.  "Those bulbs will light in sequence, one after the other, providing a countdown.  And take note of the pair of large, red and green lights at the very end."  Her hand now indicated the aluminum dishes at Scully's feet.  "If the white lights reach the end of the string before someone—yourself, for example, Agent Scully—hasn't planted her tits in the bowls and closed the circuit I mentioned earlier, the red light will illuminate.  That will mean a series of electrical shocks are pulsing through Agent Hart's dildo.  I imagine she'll provide additional evidence that this is happening, of course.  Anyway, the pulses will continue for sixty seconds, and after they're over, the voltage will reset, one increment higher, and the next round of the game will begin.

"However," Bondarella continued, "if the circuit is closed before the last white light shines, the green light will illuminate, and Agent Hart will experience five minutes of pulsing vibration.  A much more pleasant prospect, don't you agree?"

Scully could see fear in Gracie's eyes.  Whatever she'd been through since her capture, she seemed to have learned to take Bondarella's "games" very seriously.

Bondarella retrieved the end of Scully's leash and gave it a tug.  "There's more," she said, "but I'll explain after we complete our tour of my little gallery.  She led Scully towards the screen to the left.

Scully looked back over her shoulder at Gracie.  This is crazy and cruel, she thought, but I can't do anything but play along.  Her head swiveled back to the front as Bondarella slid aside the second screen.

"Installation number two!" Bondarella exclaimed.
The B-Files
Chapter 9
Behind the second screen was Megan Wheeler!

Scully wasn't really surprised, and she was relieved to find that Megan was "okay", like Gracie; however...

Megan was nude, and was tied to a steel support column with hemp rope—a lot of hemp rope.  Her hands were tied behind the column, and hemp bands yoked her shoulders and bound her torso, elbows, waist, thighs, knees, and ankles, both together and to the column.  Additional rope strands cleaved her crotch and criss-crossed her body from shoulders to ankles.  Everything was tight enough to dimple her fair, freckled skin, and it was obvious she could do little more than squirm under the hemp's tight embrace.

She was gagged with white cloth.  It had been stuffed in her mouth and held in place with a mouth-cleaving bandage, then, more cloth was used to cover her lower face from just below her nostrils to just above her chin.  The crisp linen was as tight as the strands of hemp, tight enough that the outlines of the cleave-gag and the wad of stuffing could be clearly seen.

"Sometimes less is more," Bondarella purred.

Less?? Scully wondered, staring at the yards of elaborate bondage.

"You may not recognize the reference, Agent Scully," Bondarella continued, "but this is an homage to Maestro John Willie."

She was right.  Scully didn't recognize the reference.  Maestro who?

Bondarella dropped Scully's leash, stepped forward, and caressed Megan's left breast with a gloved hand.  "Hi ho.  In trouble again.  Really Megan, you're quite hopeless.  I think it's about time you had a lesson.  I'm going to leave you like that while I... find someone else to play with."  She took a step back.  "There, homage complete."

Scully frowned.  What the hell is she talking about?  Is it important?

Bondarella's hand slid down Megan's rope bound body to her crotch.  "Isn't she beautiful?" she sighed.  "Those girlish features?  Gorgeous green eyes?  Pert breasts?  Those millions of pretty freckles?"  She scratched her fingers through Megan's pubic bush, straddling the tight, vertical strands of the crotch rope.  "And just look how the color of her charming, tomboyish crop matches these auburn curls.  One of my companions wanted to give Megan a shave—"  She nodded towards Gracie "—like she did with Miss New Jersey; but I couldn't bare it, so to speak."

Bondarella stepped to Scully's side, put an arm across her shoulders, and hugged her close.

Scully squirmed and mewled through her gag as her captor used her free hand to scratch her strap-cleaved pubic bush.

"You're both treasures," Bondarella purred.  "You span the range of Celtic beauty—from copper-red to auburn locks—from clear to freckled skin.  A veritable rufous Riverdance of Gaelic glamor."

Scully and Megan locked eyes.  Both would very much like to demonstrate another well-known attribute of redheads, their fiery tempers.  However, neither was in a position to deliver the beat-down their captor so richly deserved.  The captives sighed, and endured.

"It isn't entirely obvious," Bondarella said, gesturing towards Megan, "but Detective Wheeler has an intimate friend of her own.  It's also dual purpose, and is wired to the bowls at your feet, with the same arrangement used with Agent Hart."

Scully gazed at Megan's rope-cleaved crotch.  There was an electrical cable running from the base of the column to the twin bowls, and there was another light-rope with red and green lights at one end.

Bondarella pointed to a horizontal banner draped a couple of feet above Megan's head.  It was similar to the banner behind Gracie, but this one read:


"I had hoped to make Detective Wheeler's rescue a game for our lower-tier subscribers," Bondarella explained.  "They would log in and entertain her by passing the link to various blogs, message boards, and forums.  As her audience grew, the intensity of her 'entertainment' would gradually build.  Eventually—and after several crashing and humiliatingly public orgasms, no doubt—someone would feel obligated to notify the authorities, the server would be traced, and 'Weeping Wheeler' would be rescued."

She focused on Scully.  "I'm afraid I underestimated the talent and diligence of you and your team, Agent Scully, and so I've decided to cut this entire operation short and fold the final scenarios into one."  She pointed to the bowls at their feet, again.  "Originally, this game would have been between yourself and whichever of my targets I happened to capture last, and after the first had already been rescued; but I decided to enlarge the game.  Luckily, the additional components required were easy to procure and the fabrication of two additional 'boobie-bowls' took very little time.  And as I always use modular software design, modifying the control system was a trivial exercise."

Bondarella retrieved the end of Scully's leash and led her towards the third screen.  "Let's meet our third participant," she purred, "so the game can begin."

As she had with Gracie, Scully looked back at Megan.  To her surprise, as she shuffled along in Bondarella's wake, Megan actually winked at her.

She's so strong, Scully marveled.  With all she's been through (the details of which Scully couldn't even guess), she's trying to reassure me!

They approached the third screen.  Who would be revealed?  Had another of Scully's team been captured?

Bondarella slid the screen aside, and Scully frowned in puzzlement.
The B-Files
Chapter 9
The "third participant" was a stranger.  Scully couldn't be absolutely sure, as the newcomer's head was covered by a hood of skintight black leather, but she didn't recognize her.  She certainly wasn't Veronica, Lindsay, or the traitor Claudia, hood or no hood.

Hazel eyes gazed at Scully through a pair of exotically slanted openings in the hood, and a topknot ponytail of long, raven locks spilled out of an opening in the top.  A bulge over the mouth area could only be caused by some sort of mouth-filling gag.

The stranger was naked—apparently the only one wearing clothing in the entire building was Bondarella, now that Claudia was gone—and she was bound in an upright, full spread-eagle to what could only be described as a spider's web of taut, thin, steel chain.  The radial spokes and connecting strands were stretched inside a framework of steel pipes, and the captive was bound to the web with countless cable-ties of milky plastic.  They dimpled her pale, ivory skin every couple of inches, and even the splayed fingers of her outstretched hands were captured in their tight embrace.

Draped across the top of the frame was a third banner.  It read:


"Normally," Bondarella purred, "I'd hesitate before using narrow zip-ties for a longterm, semi-suspension like this.  They can cut the skin, or, at the very least, leave unsightly marks.  However, by using about a thousand of the things, one can evenly support the subject's weight without any lasting, deleterious effects."

Scully gazed at the spreadeagled prisoner.  Her skin was smooth and fair, the classic "Snow White" complexion.  Her breasts were large and full, but were not what you would call huge.  Her figure was trim and athletic, and her black pubic patch had been partially shaved, leaving only a narrow, vertical strip.  The end of a dildo emerged from between her labia, and was cable-tied to the web to hold it in place.  An electrical cable, periodically secured with yet more cable-ties, trailed from the dildo to a control unit on the floor, and a second cable linked the unit to the third pair of metal bowls.  There was also a third light-rope and red and green lights.

Bondarella nodded at the splayed captive, then pointed to the bowls at their feet.  "Do I need to explain?" she asked.

Scully glared at her kidnapper.

"I thought not," Bondarella chuckled, then turned and strolled towards the electric winch bolted to the floor at the fourth side of the carpet.  The leash snapped taut and Scully had no choice but to follow.
The B-Files
Chapter 9
As they approached the winch, Scully beheld a light steel chain emerging from a hole in the metal casing, and a pair of leather cuffs were attached to the chain's terminal link.  The cuffs were thick, broad, and well-padded with lambswool fleece.  The leather was the same brown color and texture as the rest of Scully's restraints, and used the same bronze hardware.

Bondarella forced Scully to her knees, and then onto her stomach.

Scully winced as her breasts touched the carpet.  The pile wasn't stiff or scratchy, but her breasts were overly sensitive, thanks to the compression of the bronze hoops of the "bra strap".  She looked over her shoulder and watched Bondarella secure her ankles.  The cuffs enclosed each ankle in a separate band of leather and fleece, then a pair of straps bound the ankles together.  Next, Bondarella untied the rope binding her knees; but she immediately replaced the hemp with brown leather straps around Scully's thighs, above and below her knees, and around her shins.  She then coiled the rope and tossed it into the shadows, unclipped the leash from Scully's collar and tossed it away, as well, then stood.

Scully lay on her side and gazed up at her captor.

Bondarella pulled a PDA from her jacket pocket and tapped its screen.  The lights over Gracie, Megan, and the stranger dimmed.  "Let's conduct a system check, shall we?" Bondarella inquired.  "Punishment mode," she announced, and tapped the screen, again.

Scully watched as the lights above the other three prisoners began to strobe.  Simultaneously, Gracie, Megan, and the stranger began writhing and struggling against their bonds and screaming through their gags.  Scully screamed in sympathy, then glared at Bondarella.

"This is medium intensity," Bondarella explained, watching the captives' distress, "the level that will be reached after you've failed to trigger the bowl circuits for several rounds.  The current is randomly spiking, and only occasionally at the 'medium intensity' peak I mentioned.  Even at full intensity, the program is designed to insure they'll remain conscious.  After all, what's the point in entertaining a damsel-in-distress if she isn't awake to appreciate it?"

Scully screamed through her gag, again.

Bondarella's mask focused on Scully.  "Excuse me?  Oh... very well."  She tapped the screen.  The lights stopped flashing and Gracie, Megan, and the stranger relaxed in their bonds.  "Continuing our test..."  Tap.

The lights brightened, and Scully's fellow-captives began struggling, again, but this time their restrained efforts were better described as shivering and shuddering, rather then writhing.

"Pleasure mode," Bondarella purred.  She waited several seconds, tapped the screen, and again, Scully's companions relaxed.

"And our final test..."  Tap.  The lights above each captive began to alternate, on and off, first over one, and then over another.  "Random selection," Bondarella explained.  "Once the routine has run its course, it will be your turn to play, Agent Scully.  You will crawl to the appropriate 'boobie-bowls', before the indicated light-rope finishes illuminating, and will trigger the pressure plates.  I assure you, this is all very real.  If you fail to do your part, your friends will suffer.  I suppose some might simply relax in their bonds, allow the program to cycle from captive to captive, and watch while they receive progressively more unpleasant punishment... but not Dana Scully."

The lights over Megan brightened, and the others remained dim.  The first white light in the light-rope at the base of her "installation" began to glow.  A few seconds later, it was joined by the second.

"You'd better get a move on, Agent Scully," Bondarella suggested.

Scully sighed and began squirming towards Megan, her bonds limiting her to an inchworm crawl.  As she struggled forward, her shoulders, breasts, hips, and legs tingled where her bare skin slid over the carpet.  Simultaneously, the pinging and vibrating dildo invading her sex sent unwelcome sensations rippling through her body.  The chain attached to her ankle cuffs unreeled as she kicked and thrashed and made progress towards her goal.  She reached the bowls in front of Megan with the light-rope only half illuminated, then lifted her body and pressed her breasts into the bowls.

Three things happened simultaneously: (1) the green light at the end of the light-rope illuminated, (2) a mild electric shock coursed through Scully's breasts, and (3) Megan began shudderng in her bonds.

Scully grunted through her gag, then the grunt became a whine of distress as the electric winch hummed to life, the reel turned, and the chain slowly, inexorably dragged her back to her original position.  The carpet caressed her bulging breasts as she slid across the thick pile.

"The shock from the bowls is an additional indicator that you've succeeded in triggering the pressure disks," Bondarella explained, than knelt at Scully's feet.  "I have one last refinement, " she purred, "before I go."

Scully watched as Bondarella used a thin, brown leather thong to bind her big toes together.  She turned her attention back to Megan.  The Detective was still shivering and struggling against her bonds, and Scully could hear the quiet, pulsing buzz of the vibrator in the post-bound prisoner's vagina.

Bondarella stood and gazed down at Scully.  "Remember, five minutes of pleasure for one of your friends when you succeed, and one minute of pain when you fail, and the level of pain will increase, each time you fail.  You will get a rest interval of three to seven minutes, while the program selects the next participant, and it will always be random, with a one-in-three chance for each, whether they were selected in the last round or not.  And don't even think about getting a head start by crawling out to the midpoint."  She tapped the side of the winch housing with her left boot.  "The reel locks between rounds, until the next selection is made."

Bondarella, Scully, and the others watched as Megan's five minutes of "pleasure" slowly passed.  She may have experienced an orgasm towards the end, but it was difficult to tell.

"Beautiful", Bondarella whispered, her finger poised above the PDA.  "You're in good shape, Agent Scully," she purred.  "It will probably be several rounds before your strength begins to fail, and no doubt your poor tits will be quite pink and sore by the time you're rescued."  She tapped the screen.  "Let the game begin."

Scully watched as the lights over Gracie, Megan, and the stranger began to alternate on and off.  The selection of the next captive to be punished or pleasured had begun.

"Well, ladies," Bondarella said, pocketing the PDA, "it's been fun... for me."  Her mask focused on Scully's worried, green eyes.  "And don't think too poorly of Dana," she continued, still in a loud voice, "after she begins to flag and your punishments become non-stop.  She's only human." 

Bondarella walked away, into the darkness, but her voice echoed back.  "And don't worry, you will be rescued... eventually."

And she was gone.

Scully lay in her bonds and watched the lights pulse in sequence.  Megan—Gracie—the stranger—Megan—the stranger—Megan—Gracie...  It did appear to be a random process.  She knew her bonds were inescapable... all their bonds were inescapable.  This is going to be bad, she realized.  The final physical exam at Quantico had been an ordeal, but this would be worse.  She might be "in good shape", as Bondarella had said, but she wasn't trained to the level of the Bureau's Hostage Rescue Team!

The lights flashed, and the selection continued.


The B-Files
Chapter 9


Chapter 8

Chapter 10