"(I've changed my mind.  I'm *not* sending a copy to Mulder.)"
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 11

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.



                ONE WEEK LATER              

The hearing into the conduct of Special Agent Dana Scully's handling of the Bondarella investigation had been going on for nearly an hour.  So far, Assistant Director Sanford Harris, the head of the Bureau's Internal Affairs Division, had done almost all of the questioning.

"Explain again why you ignored established procedure and departed from an active crime scene," Harris demanded.

Before Scully could answer, AD Walter Skinner, sitting to Scully's immediate right, leaned over and spoke into the microphone.  "That question has been asked and answered three times, Harris," he muttered.

"And I'll keep asking it until I get something resembling an adequate answer," Harris sneered.  It had been clear from the beginning that he was anything but sympathetic to Scully's cause.  What should have been a mere formality was being handled like a prosecution.

"I believed the safety of a member of the Senate was my overriding concern," Scully answered.

"A 'concern' which was entirely hypothetical at the time," Harris noted, "and could have and should have been handled by the Metro Police."

"My team was already up to speed and in the immediate area," Scully responded.  "As Senior Agent I—"

"You should have remained in place," Harris interrupted, "and let the Metro Watch Commander handle the deployment."

Skinner spoke, again.  "That's the best you can come up with, Sanford?" he muttered.

"Assistant Director Skinner, "Harris intoned, "I remind you that you are not a member of this board and are here entirely as a courtesy.  If you can't show the required professionalism—"

"Professionalism?" Skinner barked.  "You're turning this into a farcical witch-hunt."

"Skinner," Harris responded, with a gloating smile, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to—"  Harris' smile froze, his eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet so quickly he nearly toppled over his chair.  The other members of the board also stood.

Scully and Skinner followed his gaze, then quickly climbed to their feet, as well.

The Director of the FBI and Senator Shannon McMurphy were entering the conference room through the side door.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Harris," the Director said as he walked to Scully and Skinner's table.  "A pleasure to see you again, Agent Scully," he said as he shook Scully's hand.

"Thank you, Director," Scully said.  She was a little flustered.  It was difficult to shift gears from very carefully repressed anger to professional courtesy.

"Hello, Dana," Senator McMurphy purred.  She shook Scully's hand and pecked her on the cheek.

"Senator," Scully responded with a smile

"Walter," the Director said, shaking Skinner's hand.  "How are things going in here?"

"Uh, I'd prefer to give you my answer in writing, Director," Skinner said, "after the hearing is over."

The Director slapped Skinner's shoulder.  "Not necessary," he said with a grin, then turned to the front table.  "Harris," he continued.  "I've read the reports and the Senator has been kind enough to personally go over her statement with me.  I've already signed off on this matter."  He smiled at Scully.  "And that includes a commendation for Special Agent Scully and her entire team."  His back was to Harris and the others.  "Agent Scully, Walter, have you had lunch?"

"No, sir," Skinner answered.

"Well, the Senator and I are heading for the executive dining room," the Director continued.  "Please join us at my table.  I believe today's special is some sort of salmon."  Carefully ignoring Harris, Scully and Skinner followed the Director and Senator out the side door.

Sanford Harris stared at the closed door for several seconds, then glared at his subordinates.  "Let's go," he huffed, and started gathering his papers.
The B-Files
Chapter 11

"But they can't disband the task-force!" Veronica complained.  "We have to catch that bitch!  And the other bitches."

"Especially Betty," Lindsay drawled.

Veronica favored Lindsay with a coy smile.  "As if you wouldn't like a chance to slap the cuffs on Belladonna."

"Emphasis on 'slap'," Lindsay chuckled.

Gracie joined the exchange.  "And punch, and kick, and—"

"Especially kick," Megan added.

"Enough," Scully laughed.  "Let me finish.  This task force and the group that was looking for you—"  She nodded at Megan and Gracie.  "—are being merged into one effort under the D.C. Office."

"They're making it a routine, ongoing investigation," Gracie muttered.

"Which is not necessarily a bad thing," Scully said.  "There will be no more infighting and turf battles."  She smiled at Veronica.  "You'll remain on the case, Agent Mars.  You're being transferred, along with the files."

"And the other useless paraphernalia," Lindsay added.

Veronica smiled, and opened her mouth to deliver what would no doubt be a devastatingly dry and pithy comeback—then froze.  Her gaze returned to Scully, and her smile had become an expression of open astonishment.  "The D.C. Office?"  D.C. was a plum assignment, especially for a rookie.

Scully nodded, then focused on Claudia.  "Investigatrice Bosco," she continued, "the Director would also like you to remain with the investigation."

"Yeah, try and keep her away," Gracie muttered, and the group laughed.

"Of course," Claudia responded.  "I remain."

"Lyon has already been advised," Scully said, then turned to Megan.  "And as for you, a certain Captain Ross has been calling the Hoover Building every other day, ever since you left New York, demanding to know when you'd be returning to his squad."

Megan smiled.  "I take it my services are no longer required by the Bureau."

"I would never put it that way," Scully said, "but, yes, the end of next week, the Bureau is releasing you back to New York's Finest, with the Director's personal thanks."  Her smile shifted to Lindsay.  "You're a bit more of a problem, Detective Boxer."

"Like I've never heard that before," Lindsay said, with a wry smile.

"Homeland Security, the Bureau, and several other federal agencies are fighting over your reassignment," Scully explained.

"Hmm..." Gracie purred, looking Lindsay up and down from head to toe.  "The Park Service," she said, finally.  "You'd look good in a Smokey the Bear hat."

"Hilarious," Lindsay drawled.  "I assume I'll have something to say about it."

Scully nodded, then gazed at Gracie.

"Okay, spit it out," Gracie muttered.  "What Boondocks, Podunk, middle-of-nowhere backwater of the Bureau will be blessed with my presence?"

"Actually," Scully responded, "you're in much the same 'predicament' as Detective Boxer, only in-house.  LA, New York, Chicago, and Atlanta are all bidding for you, as is Counterintelligence.   When the dust settles, you'll probably have your pick of assignments."

"What about you?" Veronica blurted, then a blush colored her cheeks.  "Uh, I mean, what about you, ma'am?"

Scully smiled.  "When we close the doors on this office, next week, I report to the Director's Office of Planning and Development."

"Wow!" Gracie gasped.

"Double-wow!" Veronica added.

"A good thing?" Claudia asked.

"It could be," Scully nodded.

"More like a sure thing," Gracie said.  "Don't make any serious blunders—like taking a piss in the Director's trashcan—and you're on your way to AD."

"At least not while he's in the room," Veronica said gravely.  "The trashcan, I mean."

"You're hopeless," Lindsay sighed, and the group laughed.

"Anyway," Scully continued, "get your files ready for the transfer, and make sure Agent Mars and Investigatrice Bosco are up to speed and are ready to brief their new boss the end of next week."  She smiled at Veronica and Claudia.  "You'll like Special Agent Starling.  I've never worked with her, but she has a first-rate reputation."

"I've heard the same thing," Gracie nodded, then focused on Scully.  "If we work through the weekend—"

"No need," Scully interrupted, shaking her head.  "There are no new leads and the D.C. Office is already at work on what we do have.  The final forensic reports on the mountain of bondage equipment, computers, and everything else recovered from the gallery and the laundry truck won't clear for another week to ten days.  And as for the internet connections...  The Cyber Division and NSA aren't optimistic.  We could all use a little down-time.  Finish the day and we'll pick things up on Monday."

"I wonder if I can claim a weekend-long spa treatment on my expense account?" Megan muttered.

"Probably," Lindsay chuckled.

"I could come along and countersign the receipts," Veronica suggested.

The group laughed and began to disperse.  Scully's office door closed... and she was alone.  She turned and faced the window.  Nothing was stirring across the river, no taxiing jetliners, anyway.  Cars and trucks were speeding along the airport's side roads, as always.  Yes, things had come to a nice, tidy conclusion, with one minor exception...

Scully gazed at her reflection in the glass.  Her features were set in a grim stare, and she realized her fists were clinched.  We haven't caught the bitch! she fumed.

Scully forced herself to relax, taking deep, even breaths.  You'd think that after years on the X-Files, I'd be used to cases going cold or coming to a less than satisfying conclusion, she mused, but I really wanted to catch that bitch... and her companions in crime.  Well... Bondarella is Clarice Starling's problem, now.  Scully managed a weak smile.  And so is Veronica Mars.

Scully returned to her desk, sat, and started composing the Agent Assessment Report that would go in Veronica's file, marking the occasion of her first transfer.
The B-Files
Chapter 11
               THAT EVENING             

It was late.  Scully and her team—soon to be her ex-team—had enjoyed a long, pleasant dinner at the J&G Steakhouse.  Getting a good table on a Friday had not required a minor miracle, thanks to Scully having the foresight to let Senator McMurphy's office make the reservation, and the place had lived up to its reputation.

Fashion-wise, the team had pulled out all the stops, wearing their best gowns or cocktail dresses.  Being seasoned investigators, Gracie, Lindsay, and Claudia had some version of the "little-black-dress" in their traveling wardrobes.  One had to be prepared for all social occasions, even when on special assignment in a strange city.

Lindsay had taken the rookie to the Pentagon City Mall, at lunch, to shop for something suitable.  It wasn't that Veronica Mars needed help dressing herself, but she'd confessed she didn't have anything appropriate in her closet—other than a High School prom dress buried somewhere in the back.  They'd returned with a short, spaghetti-strap sheath in ivory satin, and Veronica had looked great in it.

They'd all looked great.  All their dresses were sleeveless, with plunging necklines and narrow straps, or, they were strapless.  Megan's dress was a dark brown spaghetti-strap number with metallic bronze trim.  Lindsay's was charcoal gray, and was very low-cut, in front and back.  Gracie had worn a deep burgundy, strapless dress, and Claudia was in a tight, black, mini-skirt-short sheath.  Finally, Scully's dress was short, black, and strapless, but with a transparent, cape-like stole of black organza.  Scully smiled as she closed her front door and turned the deadbolt lock.  Come to think of it, she mused, only Claudia and myself were in 'little black dresses'.  She stepped out of her heels, picked them up, and headed for her bedroom.

It had been a ton of fun dressing to the nines and being a part of a gaggle of "hot babes".  Showing a lot of skin, turning every head in the restaurant, including the jealous female escorts of the male diners, flirting unmercifully with their waiter (but compensating the poor guy with a handsome tip), accepting free cocktails and bottles of wine from their fellow diners (and audience)... yes, it had been fun, and something Scully didn't get to do very often, on her own or as part of a group.

Scully hung up her dress, then peeled off her pantyhose and panties.  (The very low back of her dress had precluded the wearing of a bra.)  Wet, naked Scully... with bubbles.She padded into the bathroom and started filling the tub, adding a sprinkling of bubble bath beads.  She lit a scented candle but didn't turn off the bathroom's overhead light.  She didn't want to fall asleep in the tub.  The plan was to enjoy a relaxing soak... and then climb directly into bed.  Tomorrow... breakfast, the morning paper, and later... much later... a relaxing run through the park.  She pinned up her hair, then settled into the bubbly, steaming water—being careful to keep her face and hair above the surface as she lay back against the curve of the tub.

 Scully sighed, in total contentment, and let her eyelids droop closed.

It felt sooo good... and the mineral salts in the bubble bath gave the water a silky feeling against her skin.... and the floral fragrance of the soap complemented the earthy scent of the glowing candle.  She'd worry about Bondarella later.  She'd worry about everything later... on Monday.  So what if we haven't caught her?  Haven't caught her yet! she corrected herself.  The bitch will make a mistake... eventually.

Scully was sleepy... very sleepy.  I'm really out of it, she realized... and the water was beginning to cool.  She lifted her right leg—which took a surprising amount of effort—and used her toes to trigger the drain lever.  With a gurgling sound, the water level began to drop.  Sooo tired, she thought, then grabbed the sides of the tub with her hands and hauled herself to a sitting position... or tried, anyway.  She settled back down into what was left of the water.  Her muscles felt weak and heavy.  What... what the hell is wrong with me? she wondered, and tried to sit up, again.  What... what's... wrong?

Scully closed her eyes, and her wet, naked, soapy body went completely limp.

A leather-clad figure entered the bathroom, moving silently on rubber-soled boots.  She gazed down at Scully's unconscious form through the one-way glass faceplate of her gas mask.

"So beautiful," Bondarella sighed.  "So very beautiful."
The B-Files
Chapter 11
Dana opened her eyes.  She was in her bedroom, on her bed, and she was naked, on her back, with her arms and legs splayed wide in a full spread-eagle.  Her wrists and ankles were locked in thick, wide manacles and shackles of chromed steel.  The restraints were close-fitting, their interiors sculpted to match her wrist and ankle anatomy, and she could tell they were padded with either leather or some sort of dense foam.  They had no apparent locks, but Scully could see a tiny, circular opening in the edge of each manacle.  Heavy, attached steel chains stretched to the four corners of the bed and disappeared from view.  Scully tugged on the chains and found she had an inch or two of slack, until the thick, welded links clicked taut.  The far ends were solidly attached to the lower bed frame, in some way.  The bed didn't even shake as she struggled.

Scully would have called for help, and one of her neighbors might have heard her, but a wide strip of tape was plastered over her mouth.  Her urgent, mewling complaints were loud in her own ears and the bedroom, no doubt, but she knew she couldn't possibly be heard in the adjacent apartments.  The only time she'd ever been aware of her neighbors' activities was on the infrequent occasion when a previous tenant had blasted his stereo, and even that had been barely audible.

She looked down her naked body.  The bedroom and bathroom lights were off, but several candles glowed on the the nightstands and her chest of drawers.  Her skin was dry, and her hair felt dry, as well.  Either she'd been in her current predicament for some time, or—

"Good, you're awake," an all-too-familiar voice noted from the open doorway.

It was Bondarella, dressed in her signature costume of black leather boots, catsuit, gloves, and black carnival mask.  Her long, dark hair was pulled back in tight ponytail, and it glistened like oiled silk in the candlelight.  She sauntered to the foot of the bed and gazed down at her prisoner, gloved hands on hips.

"The effects of my sleepy-gas are quite predictable," Bondarella purred.  "You really should consider changing your locks, and installing a home security system."  She strolled to the side of the bed and sat, even with Scully's waist.  "Of course, the thought might have already occurred to you—but you've been busy, haven't you."  She reached out and cupped Scully's left breast with one gloved hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Scully growled through her taped lips and glared at her captor.

"I thought we should talk, before I leave the continent," Bondarella explained.  "I could have said my goodbyes to one of the others..."  She gently caressed Scully's left nipple between her leather-clad thumb and index finger.  "But I simply love your skin, Dana."  She let her hand trail down Scully's flat tummy, until her palm rested on her navel.  "So smooth and pretty...  Do you freckle in the sun, Dana?"

Scully ignored the question.  Under the circumstances, it was rhetorical.

"I suspect you do," Bondarella continued.  "At least, a little.  I imagine your shoulders, arms, breast, nose, and cheeks take on a delicate, dappled blush of reddish gold flecks, after exposure... not like now.  Your entire body shines like pale, unblemished, peachy-pink ivory."  Her hand slid lower, until her gloved fingers parted Scully's copper-red pubic bush and nudged the top margins of her sex.

Scully bucked and rolled her hips, and forced a mewling complaint past her tape-gag, but was unable to squirm away.

"Don't bother, Dana," Bondarella chuckled.  "Those cuffs and chains are strong enough to hold Wonder Woman or the She-Hulk.  I like the caress of well-conditioned hemp, but I also like to mix things up, and there's something to be said for the delicious total helplessness of cold steel, don't you agree?"

Breasts heaving and nostrils flaring, Scully stared at her captor.

"While you were at the restaurant, I installed a telescoping framework of steel pipes to the underside of your bed frame," Bondarella explained.  "The entire system is cross-braced and bolted to the existing frame.  That's why the bed doesn't even shake when you struggle." her finger slid along the length of Scully's slit, and the prisoner shuddered and moaned through her gag.  "An Allen driver of the proper gauge to open your bonds is on your kitchen table," Bondarella said.  "After careful consideration, I've decided Agent Mars will be the one I'll notify of your situation."  The massage of Scully's flushed sex continued, as did her angry, squirming resistance.  "I seriously considered reversing the roles for this, my final American scenario," Bondarella said.  "I never got to play with your 'Rookie', but Claudia—my Claudia—says she is a lot of fun, and the video of what my Betty did to her is quite entertaining."

Bondarella's glove continued to slide, and her fingers framed both margins of Scully's labia.  Much to her humiliated chagrin, Dana's body began responding to their skilled, gentle pressure.

"She's such a short little thing," Bondarella purred.  "And so feisty and smart.  Such lovely, baby-oil tan skin—long, blond hair—perky little breasts—sparkling, mischievous blue eyes..."  The massage stopped.  "There, you're nice and wet.  The pump is primed, so to speak, and speaking of eyes..."  She reached into a pocket and produced a pair of oval-shaped pads.  "Hypoallergenic foam, with a light adhesive," she explained as she peeled off the paper backing of one of the pads.  "Now, Dana, please close your right eye for me."

Dana glared at her captor's mask with both angry, green eyes, and made no effort to comply.

"I've worked very hard to establish this pleasant, shall we say, romantic mood," Bondarella purred.  "It would be a shame to have to take out my tit-taser and compel your obedience.  Please, Dana.  It's a small thing."

Dana continued to stare... then sighed and closed both eyes.  There was no point in futile, "heroic" resistance, especially at the price of jolting pain.

The pad settled over her right eye, there was a slight pause, and the second pad settled over her left eye.  Seconds later, Bondarella lifted her head, slid a velvety soft cloth band over her already covered eyes, cinched it taut behind her head, and secured it with a tight, flat knot.

"There," Bondarella purred.  "Now we can play without the interference of all this leather, and this mask.

The bed shook as Bondarella did... something.  Then, Scully heard zippers opening, followed by what was probably the sound of leather being peeled away from skin... and she surmised her captor was disrobing.  She pulled on her chains and tossed her tape-gagged and blindfolded head in helpless frustration.

"I have some massage oil warming over a candle," Bondarella purred, "for later.  But first..."

Scully flinched as a cool, smooth, strong hands gripped her breasts.  Seconds later, a pair of warm lips kissed her cheeks and her taped lips.  The bed shook again, and Bondarella straddled her body, settling her weight over Scully's body, her bare legs pressed against Scully's hips and thighs.  Her captor leaned forwards, took her hair in both hands, and began kissing, licking and nuzzling her ears, neck, cheeks, nose, anywhere and everywhere her skin wasn't covered by tape or the band of cloth.  This continued for some time, as Scully continued to squirm, tug on her bonds, and mewl through her gag.  Their breasts were squashed together, and their nipples slid against each other as they moved.

Suddenly, Bondarella climbed off Scully's body and the bed, lifted Scully's lower body, and slid a pillow under her butt.  Seconds passed, and she lifted her again, to add a second pillow.  Scully was now very tightly stretched, with her sex prominently exposed.

She's strong, Scully thought.  She's so very strong.

The foot of the bed shook as Bondarella climbed back onto its soft surface, and her hands parted Scully's labia... and then her warm, wet tongue slid across the sensitive, crinkled, glistening folds of flesh.  Scully went rigid, until her muscles were corded and her chains as taut as iron bars.  The tongue continued to lick and probe, and Bondarella's lips and and teeth joined the assault.  Scully emptied her lungs with a nasal hum—she'd been holding her breath without realizing it—and panted through her flaring nostrils.  Her heart was hammering, and her captor's tongue continued its horrible (wonderful) work.

Bondarella was skilled and experienced, especially at the task of entertaining a bound, helpless, and reluctant "lover".  She slowly brought Scully to the peak of orgasm... held her there for several very long, very intense seconds... then pushed her over the edge.

Scully bucked and struggled—screaming through her gag and tossing her head—writhing in the throes of orgasm.

And then it was over.  Bondarella was climbing off her body, and the bed.  Scully's breasts continued to heave and her heart was still hammering.

"A good start," Bondarella purred.  "That oil should be just about ready."

Scully's breathing slowly returned to normal, and sweat was drying on her helpless body, leaving the sensation of being flushed and cool, at the same time.

That witch, she thought, weakly pulling on her inescapable steel bonds.  That absolute bitch of a witch.  She didn't know whether to scream or cry; but she also knew her gag and blindfold would absorb either reaction.
The B-Files
Chapter 11
It was a very long night.

Scully lost count of the number of times Bondarella made her cum.  Very little of her body was neglected by her captor's hands, lips, or tongue—and then Bondarella had produced a particularly insidious toy, a double-ended dildo harness with Ben-Wa balls running in a track through its interior.  Whatever the actual design, something pinged and vibrated every time Bondarella thrust into her.  Scully could only vouch for the presence of one dildo, of course, but Bondarella had said it was double-ended, so it probably was.  Her captor's enthusiastic grunts and gasps whenever she put it to use certainly reinforced that assertion.

Scully awoke with her gag, blindfold, and steel bonds still in place, and with Bondarella's naked body—she assumed it was Bondarella's naked body—pressed against her left side.

"Good morning, Dana," Bondarella purred, and her hands and lips began exploring Scully's body... again.  "If you promise not to scream," she whispered in Scully's right ear, "I'll peel that strip of Elastoplast off your pretty lips and give you a nice drink... but not right now."  Her hands began kneading Scully's breasts and teasing her nipples.  "Right now, let's celebrate the dawn with a nice, slow orgasm.  I wish I could give you a chance to demonstrate what you've learned about the use of the lips and tongue... but I know I can't trust you that far, and it would be unfair to ask."

Bondarella climbed onto Scully's body, with her head between Scully's legs and her crotch close to the spreadeagled captive's gagged and blindfolded face.

Scully shuddered and squirmed as Bondarella's tongue and lips began to work their magic... again.  Bondarella's moist, warm sex pressed against her chin and gagged lips, and slid across her nose as her body moved.

"Scream if I forget to let you breathe," Bondarella said.

Scully tried to close her thighs, to the degree allowed by her bonds, but her captor's strong hands easily defeated her efforts.

Witch! Scully fumed.  Her tormentor's (lover's?) musky scent filled her nostrils.  Seductive witch!
The B-Files
Chapter 11
"Remember," Bondarella purred.  "Be polite, speak when spoken to, and use your inside voice."  She slowly, carefully peeled the tape from Scully's lips.  The blindfold remained in place.

Scully licked her lips as Bondarella cradled and lifted her head.

"Slow, careful sips, Dana," Bondarella said, and held the lip of a small glass to Scully's lips.

It was water—cool, clear water—and Scully couldn't remember drinking anything better.  Bondarella let her drink half the contents of the glass, then took it away and gently lowered Scully's head back down to the pillow.

"Thank you," Scully whispered.  Her feelings towards her kidnapper hadn't changed, but it never hurt to be polite, and Bondarella hadn't tortured her yet... this time.  Maybe that would come later.

"Well, this has been fun, Dana, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to take my leave."

"No!" Scully blurted.

"Oh... you want me to stay?"

"Uh, no," Scully responded. "I... I want you to tell me why you're doing this... all of this."

"Why?"  Bondarella laughed.  "Isn't it obvious?  It gives me pleasure, and I enjoy the challenge of the hunt.  I think that's why you fascinate me, Dana—the challenge.  Beautiful women are a dime a dozen, but a beautiful woman with your intellect and spirit?  A rarity indeed.  I knew that capturing a couple of police officers would be dangerous, possibly my most dangerous hunt to date.  I was very lucky, but so were you."

Scully tugged on her manacles, and tried to organize her thoughts.  She certainly didn't feel lucky, at the moment.  She had to get Bondarella to keep talking, to get her to reveal something... to make a mistake.

"And the Senator and reporter?" Scully asked.  "Wasn't it even more dangerous to kidnap them?"

"They were for you, Dana," Bondarella chuckled.  "I captured them for you."


"We had several high-profile targets under surveillance," Bondarella continued, "but those two practically volunteered.  I gather the Senator and reporter are, or were, planning a series of interviews, and the semi-secret meeting my colleagues interrupted was happening under the radar of most of their staffs and coworkers.  I imagine it will be some time before—"

"What the hell do you mean you did it for me?" Scully demanded.

"Inside voice, Dana," Bondarella chuckled.  "Remember?"

"Why?" Scully growled.

"Claudia, by which I mean my Claudia," Bondarella continued, "explained what she'd learned about the misogynistic politics behind your task-force.  I found it unacceptable that such a team of beautiful, talented, dedicated women should be treated in such a shameful manner... so I fixed it."

"By making us the heroes that rescued McMurphy and Lerner," Scully huffed.

"Exactly," Bondarella purred.

"You're insane!"

"An adrenaline junkie, maybe," Bondarella chuckled, "but I assure you I am of sound judgment and reason.  If you ever do manage to capture me, my legal team will not be mounting an insanity defense."


Bondarella had silenced her captive by placing an index finger against her lips.  She leaned close and whispered in Scully's right ear.  "I really do have to go, Dana," she said, "but before I leave town, I'll send flowers to Agent Mars, with the enclosed note strongly suggesting she visit your apartment at her earliest convenience.  In the meantime—"

"M'mmpfh!"  Something, probably a large ball of rubber foam, had been forced into Scully's mouth, and immediately another strip of tape sealed her lips.  Elastoplast, Scully remembered, as Bondarella's fingers smoothed the tape over her lower face.  She said it was Elastoplast.

"As soon as we finish our editing and polishing," Bondarella said, "we'll be sending you DVDs of our adventure.  That means complete sets for every member of your team, of course.   We usually don't extend this service to our targets, but consider it a professional courtesy."  Her hand settled on Scully's stomach, and began a gentle, circular massage.  "Tonight is an exception," Bondarella continued.  "Our little 'farewell celebration' will not be on the DVDs.  I took a few snapshots for my scrapbook, of course, but otherwise, tonight was just for us, Dana."

Scully tugged on her chains and mewled through her new, more effective gag.

"I have another parting gift, which I'm going to give you now," Bondarella purred.

Scully's body went rigid.  Bondarella was sliding something long and thin into her vagina!

"Dana, meet 'Little Roger'," Bondarella said.  "Now you'll be able to compare notes with Megan.  She met his big brother."

Scully felt narrow bands encircle her waist and slide through her crotch, then heard the dry zip of cable-ties as they tightened to the point of dimpling her flesh.  She surmised it was some sort of cable-tie harness.  Whatever the arrangement, it anchored "Little Roger" in place.

"AC power, and a palm-size computer for a brain," Bondarella explained.  "He'll keep you entertained while you wait for your Junior G-Woman Heroine to save the Damsel in Distress.  I hope Agent Mars is home when my flowers arrive.  It could add hours to your wait, otherwise."

Scully squirmed in her bonds.  The vibrator was pulsing, but at a low intensity.  She flinched when she felt something being pressed against her right thigh.

"That's a heart rate sensor I'm taping over your femoral artery," Bondarella explained.  "We've developed routines for our Roger family of smart-vibrators that synchronize, or rather, harmonize with your pulse.   You'll find Little Roger to be very frustrating, for the most part."

Scully writhed and mewled through her gag.  The vibrator was pulsing with the rhythm of her heart.  Will it increase if I became more excited, Scully wondered, or will I synchronize with it?  It was an interesting experiment, but one in which she'd just as soon not participate.

"I'm going to take a shower," Bondarella announced, "then I'll get dressed and let myself out.  Goodbye, Dana.  Thank you for a very pleasurable hunt."

The bed shook and Scully was alone on the bed—alone but for the persistent, throbbing presence of Little Roger.  Seconds passed, and then the shower began to run, and Bondarella began singing, in French.  Her soprano voice, echoing off the tiles, was beautiful... but Scully didn't recognize the song.  A very beautiful voice, Scully conceded.  I bet she's beautiful, as well.  Scully tugged on her inescapable bonds, silenced by her captor's gag and blinded by her blindfold.  Bondarella's flowers weren't even on their way, yet.   She didn't want to think about the scene that would unfold when Ronnie Mars rushed in and found her like this.  It would be... humiliating.  Bondarella's song continued.

        Pastré lou prat faï flour,
        Li cal gorda toun troupel.
        Dio lou baïlèro lèrô,
        Lèrô lèrô lèrô lèrô baïlèro lô.

Beautiful, Scully mused, and tugged on her chains, again.  Little Roger continued to buzz.  Scully could tell he—it—wouldn't be enough to bring her off... not any time soon, anyway.  She's telling the truth.  It is intended to frustrate.  A gentle form of torture... but torture, nonetheless.

The shower stopped.

I'm not going to catch her, Scully realized.  She's going to get away with this... with all of this.  I'll give Ronnie and Claudia and their new teammates all the help I can, she vowed, for however long it takes.  Minutes passed, with no sound of Bondarella dressing or leaving the apartment.  Is she still here? Scully wondered.  Is she watching me, right now?

Suddenly, Little Roger let loose with a strong, prolonged pulse—then another—and another.  This was not frustrating, unless it was a trick, unless the next pulse would never come—but it did—as did the next.

Scully writhed and moaned.  Another orgasm was building, and it would be a strong one.  Scully had had a lot of recent experience in such things.  This is going to be good, she realized, a real humdinger.  The pulses continued—and continued—and eventually Scully did cum, and it was a humdinger.

The pulses returned to their former frustrating level of intensity, and their rate began to slow, as Scully's pulse returned to normal.  She lay in her bonds, glistening with sweat and her breasts heaving... and then the heaving subsided as her breathing returned to normal, as well.

So beautiful, Bondarella mused.  She set the program to trigger similar subroutines every hour to hour-and-a-half, then slid her PDA into her pocket.  She hadn't donned her former costume, except for her boots.  Instead, she had changed into a pair of designer jeans, a skintight turtleneck sweater, a leather jacket, and a blond wig.  Her catsuit and mask were in a leather duffel, waiting by Scully's front door, along with everything else she'd brought into the apartment and didn't intend to leave as "gifts".

A smile curling her full lips, Bondarella enjoyed the sight of Dana Scully slowly writing on her bed for another full minute; then she heaved a silent sigh.  Well... I have a flower delivery to arrange, she thought, and other things, as well.  She spun on her heel and left the bedroom and Scully's apartment, silently closing and locking the front door.

Back in the bedroom, her pale, naked, helpless body lit only by the dim, indirect light filtering through the window's sheer, inner drapes and the open slats of the lowered blinds, Scully continued to squirm and writhe, and Little Roger continued to buzz and hum.


The B-Files
Chapter 11


Chapter 10