| FROM THE CASE FILES OF
| by Van ©2014
| Chapter 9
|OUR STORY CONTINUES
hurried home as quickly as she could. Even so, by the time
she arrived an ambulance and several police cars, all with
flashing lights, were double parked in front of the
building. Upstairs, she had to convince a uniformed
officer to summon Nikki before she was allowed to duck under the
yellow crime-scene tape and enter her own office. Nikki
led her to the playroom.
Kitty noted Nikki's costume of sneakers, black yoga-pants, and
blue sports top. She didn't leer, of course. Okay,
she totally leered, but she carefully hid all signs of
her appreciation of Nikki Braslow's smokin' hot body.
Nikki's badge and holstered sidearm were clipped to the
waistband of her yoga-pants. Maybe I can talk Bertie
into swapping sisters sometime, Kitty thought.
In the playroom, cops and forensics techs were milling around,
waiting to go to work. A pair of EMTs were about to wheel
a gurney carrying a young woman, possibly a teenager, down to
the ambulance waiting below. The patient seemed to be
naked under the blanket and straps securing her in place and an
oxygen mask was over her girlish face. She was conscious
but in mild shock. She had long brown hair, with bangs,
and big brown eyes, which she blinked at Kitty as she was rolled
past. Kitty had absolutely no idea who she might be.
Bertie was also present, wearing the exercise togs she'd donned
for her "date" with Nikki. The little Brit pointed to an
open suitcase and the surrounding pile of severed rope, cord,
duct-tape, pantyhose, and scarves. Kitty couldn't resist
an opportunity to give her partner and "Nikki Heat" a little
"What the hell did you guys do to that poor girl?" Kitty
Nikki's eyes popped wide and she blushed, but Bertie would have
none of it. "Shut up," she snapped, then quickly explained
the circumstances of the girl's arrival. She pointed at
the suitcase, again. "Look familiar?"
"Yeah," Kitty nodded.
"These were also inside the suitcase," Nikki said, handing Kitty
a plastic evidence bag containing a New York driver's license
and a student ID for the Hudson Academy for Girls. Both
bore the name "Candice Carson," and their photos matched the
girl on the now departed gurney. "She appears to be
unharmed," Nikki added, "but needs rest. She said she was
grabbed by a tall blond and a black-haired Goth, yesterday
"She reminds me of someone," Bertie said, frowning at the photos
on the license and ID, "but who?"
"Grabbed by a tall blond and a black-haired Goth," Kitty
muttered. Obviously, the kidnappers were Dr. B and
Suki. Kitty noted from the date of birth on the license
that Candice Carson was eighteen, and the school ID said she was
a Senior. Hudson Academy was a very pricy and prestigious
prep school, so unless Candice was a scholarship student, her
parents were wealthy and well-connected. "Ransom?" Kitty
"It's complicated," Bertie muttered.
"Complicated as in fucking with Wynter and Finch Investigations
by leaving the kidnap victim on their doorstep?" Kitty drawled.
Bertie shook her head. "Complicated as in Nikki trying to
call Candice Carson's parents before you got here and the FBI
answering the phone."
Kitty frowned. "The FBI?"
"We're going to the New York Field Office to meet Special Agent
Shaw," Bertie explained. "I've gotta go change." She
turned and headed for the bedroom.
"I guess we'll have time to swing by my place so I can
change." Nikki said.
"Nonsense," Kitty said with a smile. "I'm sure I've got something
that'll fit you." She nodded towards the bedroom.
Nikki was dubious. She had about four inches in
height on Bertie's partner, but she might as well see what Kitty
had in mind. She followed Kitty to the bedroom.
| Chapter 9
Kitty found a
pair of leather pants that Nikki could squeeze into. They
were skintight, a little short in the cuff, and were causing a
little camel toe action, but they'd do. And Kitty could
tell that in Bertie's opinion they'd do quite nicely. She
caught the little Brit ogling the blond cop as she
changed. There was no doubt about it.
Kitty very much suspected the suitcase full of schoolgirl had
arrived at exactly the wrong moment, interrupting Bertie's
demonstration just as it was shifting into high gear. Poor
Muffin, Kitty thought. I'll have to make it up
to her... tonight.
Unfortunately, Kitty's shoe size was too small for Nikki to
borrow a pair of knee-boots to go with the pants, but her
running shoes and socks were adequate. A baby-blue cotton
blouse and her olive-drab army jacket completed the ensemble and
Nikki was ready to go.
Bertie was also ready, having donned a pair of ankle-boots, dark
gray pants, a white blouse, and a brown leather jacket.
Kitty, of course, had been ready all along.
A little less than an hour later, with FBI "Visitor" badges
clipped to their jacket lapels or pockets, they were cooling
their heels around a table in a hi-tech conference room in the
New York Field Office.
Special Agent Jordan Shaw breezed in and took a seat.
"Sorry for the delay," she apologized. "About three hours
ago, one Charles Carson, a senior partner in the law firm of
Bristol, Carson, Gailbraith, and Wendig, walked into the lobby,
handed a small box of USB flash drives to the guard manning the
metal detector, and announced that he was the mysterious client
who hired Dr. Bondage to kidnap Helena Garrett."
Jordan activated her tablet computer and transferred files to
the gigantic flat-screen monitor dominating one of the
conference room walls. Front and center was a photo of a
distinguished white male in his fifties wearing a suit that
looked expensive enough to trade for a very good used car.
The photo was captioned "Charles H. Carson."
"Carson refused a lawyer," Jordan continued. "He still
refuses a lawyer, and has signed paperwork to that effect.
He's currently three rooms away filling a legal pad with a
detailed confession. Agents are cataloging and processing
the flash-drives as quickly as they can, and the U.S Attorney is
hovering around making sure all of this will stick when he gets
"I take it Candice Carson is his daughter?" Kitty asked.
"And the reason he confessed," Jordan nodded. She tapped a
file and a photo of Candice appeared, next to her
father's. "He intended Helena to be erotically tortured
for two days and two nights before Dr. B was to tell the police
where to find her. When you and your partner rescued
Helena in less than half that time, Carson was miffed and
refused to pay the back half of Dr. B's fee."
"So they kidnapped his daughter," Bertie suggested. She
was staring at Candice's photo with laser intensity.
"And ordered him to confess," Nikki added, "or else."
"All correct," Jordan confirmed. "The flash drives contain
records of Carson's interactions with Dr. B, including voice,
video, e-mail, etc. Like I said, we're still cataloging
everything. Detailed examination is going to take quite a
while." She smiled at Kitty. "Among what we have so
far is a discussion of you and your partner. Dr. B tapped
Garrett's phone and internet connections."
"We know," Kitty huffed. "She told Bertie. That's
how she knew we were on the case."
Bertie nodded in agreement. "Before Kitty got there, Dr. B
told me my bug detector wouldn't be necessary."
"She mentioned the taps again, to me, while Suki was ringing
Bertie's chimes." She focused on her partner. "The
second time or the third?"
Bertie blushed (and so did Nikki). "How would I know?" the
little Brit huffed. "I was... distracted."
"I see," Jordan chuckled. "Anyway, we have proof that
Carson was in the loop. He knew all about the added
complication of Kitty Wynter and Bertie Finch, Private
Investigators, becoming involved, and insisted that the
Bertie frowned. "What sort of complete idiot keeps those
sorts of records of a criminal conspiracy?"
"The records were kept by Dr. Bondage," Jordan explained.
"And even at this stage, Technical Services says they'll be able
to cross-reference the files to existing ISP and phone company
records. Carson's lawyers, once he gets lawyers,
may try to argue it's all fake, but enough will hold up in court
to convict. He's going away."
"What did he have against Helena Garrett?" Nikki asked.
Jordan shrugged. "Something about a series of lawsuits
involving corporate clients on three continents. Garrett
cleaned Carson's clock and he didn't take it well."
"No, ya think?" Kitty said dryly.
Jordan smiled. "Once we sort out the mountain of data on
those drives, his motive may make more sense. Suffice it
say Charles Carson is a piece of work."
Suddenly, Bertie jolted from her chair and pointed to the
screen, to Candice Carson's photo. "Taylor Swift!" she
shouted in triumph.
The others stared at Bertie in surprise.
Bertie's broad, self-satisfied smile faded as she noticed the
others' reaction. "Taylor Swift," she explained.
"She looks like Taylor Swift. That's what I was trying to
There was a silent pause of several seconds... then Bertie
slowly resumed her seat.
Kitty gazed at her partner. "Dork," she accused.
Bertie blushed, then smiled weakly when Nikki reached out and
patted her hand.
Kitty suppressed a smile, then focused on Jordan. "What
about Dr. Bitch and her minion? Are we any closer to
Jordan shook her head. "Nothing has popped from the drives
so far. It's still early. Carson hasn't even
finished writing his confession and it'll take days to examine
everything, not to mention whatever we find searching his homes
and offices and wherever else the trail leads."
"They're long gone," Kitty muttered.
"Probably," Nikki agreed.
Bertie nodded in agreement. Her eyes were back on
Candice's photo. "Taylor Swift," she mumbled under her
breath. "She looks just like her."
Kitty, Nikki, and Jordan exchanged a tolerant smile.
"Dork," Kitty reiterated.
This time, Kitty's teasing disdain rolled off Bertie like water
off the proverbial duck's back. "It's the bangs," she
explained. "She could be her twin."
| Chapter 9
LATE ON A FRIDAY
Nikki rang the door buzzer of Wynter and
Finch Investigative Services. The brass plate on the door
still read "Katerina Wynter, Licensed Private Investigator," but
Nikki assumed it would be replaced some time soon. The
door opened and Nikki beheld the smiling face of Kitty, not
Bertie, as she had expected.
Kitty was dressed in typical fashion: black knee-boots, black
leather pants, and a dusky rose tank-top. "Come in, come
in," she said, stepping aside and making a sweeping gesture.
Nikki was wearing running shoes, cotton socks, yoga pants, and
her olive-drab army jacket. She unzipped and hung up the
jacket, revealing a racer-back, Pacific-blue sports top from
Victoria's Secret. She'd made a shopping trip just for
this meeting... with Bertie. It was supposed to be a
repeat of their interrupted "rope demonstration." So what
was Kitty doing here?
Kitty seemed to read her guest's mind. "I don't plan on
staying." Proving her point, she took a denim jacket from
the coat-hooks and pulled it on. "I just wanted a word
before I go."
Nikki smiled. "Okay."
"We're still getting nowhere finding Dr. B and Suki," Kitty
said. "I don't think we're being stonewalled. Nobody
on the street has a clue."
Nikki's smile faded, and she nodded. "Same here. My
C.I.'s don't know anything. Last time I talked to Jordan
it was the same."
"They've gone to ground," Kitty muttered, "sticking to their
pattern. In a few months they'll strike again, and almost
certainly not in New York."
Nikki sighed. "I'll try and keep the case active, but..."
"I know," Kitty responded. "I'll let you know if I hear
Nikki nodded. "Good. Thanks." Her eyes were on
the wall across the office, on Kitty's handcuff collection—or
more correctly, on what was left of Kitty's handcuff
collection. About half of the hooks that normally held the
various manacles were empty.
Kitty noticed Nikki's gaze, but said nothing. "Anyway,
Bertie's in the playroom. Your sister usually doesn't work
late on Fridays, right?"
"Huh?" Nikki refocused on Kitty. "Kirsten? Not
"I see," Kitty purred, then opened the door and stepped across
the threshold and into the hall. "Later. Lock this
behind me, okay?" She walked away, not waiting for a
Nikki watched her go, then closed the door and turned the
deadbolt. "Playroom," she muttered under her breath,
turned, and walked in that direction.
The playroom was as before, with the expansive exercise mat
spread on the hardwood floor in the middle of the open
space. However—and it was a however that caused Nikki to
freeze in her tracks and stare in open-mouthed wonder—there was
one significant change.
Bertie was sitting on her butt in the center of the mat.
She was nude, as in naked, as in not wearing any clothing.
However—another big however—she was wearing the handcuffs
missing from Kitty's collection, all the handcuffs
missing from Kitty's collection. She was also wearing a
ball-gag with a two-inch, mouth-plugging and jaw-stretching
sphere of translucent red rubber and a narrow, black leather
strap buckled tight at the nape of her neck. Her blue eyes
were wide, her bulging, freckled cheeks bright crimson, and as
for the rest of her...
A thrill quivered between Nikki's legs and rippled up her
spine. Naked Bertie Finch lived up to all her
expectations. Pert breasts, erect coral nipples, flat
tummy, freckled shoulders—and with her arms behind her back and
held there by nine pairs of handcuffs of different design locked
around her wrists and forearms, nearly up to her elbows—with six
more pairs of handcuffs locked around her ankles—all that tan,
freckled skin—and that mortified, ball-gagged, cute-as-a-bug
face—she was perfect!
All doubts were banished. All thoughts that playing kinky
games with Bertie Finch would be too kinky
disappeared. A smile on her lips and a twinkle in her blue
eyes, Nikki walked a slow circle around the embarrassed captive.
Off to the side she noticed a long, vertical string of keys of
various type tied every inch or so along a length of fishing
line and dangling from an eye-bolt mounted in the ceiling.
The bottom key of the string was something like six feet off the
floor, out of reach for Bertie in her multi-cuffed state.
Also, a small white gift box tied with a festive red ribbon was
resting on the floor directly under the keys.
Nikki locked eyes with Bertie. "Wait here," she said, then
strolled over and picked up the box. She returned to stand
in front of the squirming, naked captive, then pulled the
ribbon's bow. It fluttered to the floor. Nikki
opened the lid, gazed into the box, and her smile
broadened. She sat cross-legged on the floor close to
Bertie and held the box so the little Brit could see
inside. "If I recall your witness reports correctly, these
are the models Dr. B and Suki used on you and your partner."
Bertie looked into the box, then locked eyes with Nikki and
slowly nodded. The box did indeed hold a blue Pussy Rocket
and pink Frisky Finger mini-vibrator, nestled together on a bed
of white tissue paper. Bertie watched as Nikki removed her
running shoes and socks, stuffed the socks in the shoes, and
tossed them away. The tall, blond, beautiful cop then
pulled Bertie close and embraced her from behind, much as Bertie
had held her, days before, after she'd bound Nikki in that
delicious box-frog-hogtie and before they were so rudely
interrupted by the arrival of the suitcase full of Candice
Only this time, Bertie was the bound prisoner, and she was
naked. She felt Nikki unbuckling the ball gag. The
strap slackened, then Nikki's strong, tan fingers gently plucked
the red ball from her mouth and it bounced against her
chest. Nikki had buckled the strap on the first hole, and
the gag now dangled around Bertie's neck like a very kinky
"Your partner has a unique sense of humor," Nikki purred in
Bertie simultaneously blushed and pouted. "I'm gonna kill
her," she huffed.
Nikki kissed the side of Bertie's neck, then whispered in her
ear. "In that case, I guess I better not let you go."
Bertie shivered in Nikki's embrace, then gasped as the cop
reached around her body, cupped her breasts in both hands, and
gave them a slow, gentle squeeze. "Okay," she sighed,
still shivering. "I won't kill her. That would be
"You're beautiful," Nikki whispered. Her hands continued
caressing Bertie's breasts and teasing her nipples.
Bertie squirmed and her redundant steel bonds clattered,
clanked, and slid against Nikki's body. Kitty had been
careful to arrange her wrist and forearm bonds in ascending
order. That is, the cuffs binding her wrists were joined,
with no flexibility. The next pair was hinged, and each
successive pair had more and more chain separating the steel
bracelets. Bertie's shoulders were rolled back, but her
joints weren't stressed and she was more or less comfortable.
"Beautiful," Nikki repeated. Now, her left hand was
cupping Bertie's left breast and her right hand gliding down
Bertie's body, sliding over the tense muscles of her abdomen.
"You're the beautiful one," Bertie sighed. She tried
kicking her feet, but all that did was rattle her ankle
cuffs. Kitty had chosen models with the most generous
amount of chain between the cuffs for her feet, allowing Bertie
to spread her legs; not by much, but enough for Nikki's hand to
caress her crotch. She shivered in her bonds and Nikki's
embrace, and a sly smile slowly curled her lips. "I take
it you're over your shyness?"
"I guess I am," Nikki agreed.
"You're supposed to be the helpless one," Bertie pouted.
"Maybe later," Nikki whispered in Bertie's ear.
"Seriously. Watching you struggle against those cuffs
makes me... curious."
Bertie watched as Nikki reached into the box and pulled out the
blue Pussy Rocket torpedo. "If you're expecting me to
demonstrate that thing, we'll have to change places now,
Nikki had taken the inert vibrator between her teeth, then used
both hands to pop the ball-gag back in Bertie's mouth and
tighten and buckle the strap. She then placed her left arm
across Bertie's chest, gripped the squirming captive tight, and
took the rocket from her mouth. She switched it on to its
lowest setting, then began teasing Bertie's tummy, circling her
bellybutton with the buzzing tip. "You think I can't sort
out the facts in a simple witness statement?" she purred, then
kissed Bertie's ear. "Let me know if I get anything
Bertie shivered as the shaft of the rocket slid up and down her
labia. Yes, she's definitely over her shyness,
the naked captive thought. She tried clenching her thighs
together, but Nikki countered by lifting her right leg and
planting her bare right foot between said thighs. Bertie
didn't really want to resist, of course, but a proper
damsel-in-distress is required to resist being ravished by a
beautiful villainess. It's part of the code.
"In a while," Nikki whispered, "I'll order a pizza." Her
left hand was toying with Bertie's nipples, again, and the
rocket continued exploring the flushed, moist, pink folds of
Bertie's pussy. "After an orgasm or two." She
planted the tip of the rocket against Bertie's clitoris and
gently pressed. "Or three."
| Chapter 9
frustrating," Kitty sighed. "She's an international
criminal wanted by everybody from Scotland Yard to the Adelaide
Humane Society, and she just vanishes. Poof! She's
gone. And that Suki bitch too!" Kitty was naked,
sprawled on her back on the rumpled sheets of the bed, snuggled
close against her bed-mate's side and staring up at the ceiling.
Kirsten "Shyster" Braslow, the bed-mate in question, was also
naked and sprawled on her back. Well, she was almost
naked. Kirstens' arms were folded behind her back with her
fingertips touching her elbows and her forearms, hands, and
fingers wrapped under tight, overlapping layers of
duct-tape. Four cable-ties had been tightened around her
forearms and wrists, the ends clipped, then more duct-tape was
applied, covering the ties. Also, Kirsten's legs were
folded in a semi-lotus and more duct-tape and cable-ties wrapped
and tightened to make sure they stayed that way. Finally,
the panties she'd worn all day—in the office, in court, and even
for a workout in the gym before heading home for a well-deserved
weekend of rest—were stuffed in her mouth, with several strips
of duct-tape sealing her lips and covering her face from nose to
chin and ear to ear.
The perpetrator had been Kitty, of course, and the irony that
she had used the same tape-tie-tape technique on Shyster that
the Goth had used on Muffin was apparently lost on the grumpy
"Those bitches did what they did and we don't even get to watch
them hauled off to prison in matching orange jumpsuits," Kitty
continued, then heaved a self-pitying sigh. "It's
Kirsten heaved a gagged sigh of her own. Frustrating?
Frustrating is being grabbed as soon as you enter your
apartment, having your clothes stripped off, then being bound
and gagged on your own bed by a nympho-nut-job who
then runs a vibrating fake-fur glove over your boobs and
abdomen for a solid hour while babbling about the
unfairness of life! That's frustrating!
"M'mmmpfh!" Kirsten rocked and bucked her body and twisted
her bound legs and arms, as best she could. Enough was
"What's your problem?" Kitty purred, then wrapped her legs
around Kirsten's waist and pulled her even closer. She
turned off and peeled off the vibrating glove, then carefully
peeled the tape from Kirsten's face.
Kirsten spit out her panties, then rounded on her captor.
"They got away. Get over it!"
"It's not right," Kitty huffed.
"Boo-hoo. Of course it's not right. So what?"
Kirsten heaved another sigh. "Some day she'll make a
A smile curled Kirsten's lips. She couldn't help
herself. "Sometimes you're a big baby, Kitty-Kat," she
"I'll show you 'big baby,'" Kitty purred, pulled on the glove,
and clicked its hidden switch. The tips of her furry
fingers began to hum, and she began sliding them over Kirsten's
Kirsten bit her lower lip and shivered in her inescapable bonds
and Kitty's strong grip.
"And don't call me Kitty-Kat," Kitty added.
"You call me Shyster," Kirsten noted. Her nipples were now
deliciously erect, and the feel of the vibrating fur on her skin
"I'm the one that captured you," Kitty noted. "I
get to call you whatever I want."
Kirsten continued shivering. "Your logic is irrefutable,"
"I'm hungry," Kitty announced. "What do you want?
Chinese? Thai? Indian? Jamaican? Greek?"
"I don't want to eat," Kirsten muttered. "I want to
cum." Kitty's glove was sliding down her stomach, and
Kirsten was straining to lift her crotch to meet the approaching
"Greedy Shyster," Kitty chuckled.
"I want to cum," Kirsten whined. "I've been listening to
you bemoan the escape of Doctor Bondage and the evil Suki for an
hour and I want to cum!"
Kitty used her non-gloved hand to turn Kirsten's chin until they
were face to face, then delivered a savage kiss. It was
deep and wet, with probing tongues and sucking lips, and Kirsten
gave as good as she got. The glove finally reached
Kirsten's pussy and the bound captive's body shivered and
squirmed, but the kiss continued.
The proverbial pump was already well-primed. It wasn't
very long before Kirsten did, indeed, cum. Kitty's tongue
was still in her mouth, and her tongue in Kitty's. Her
body quaked, she broke off the kiss, opened her mouth, and
screamed! "Mrrrrf!" Or would have, if Kitty's free
hand hadn't been clamped over her mouth.
Kitty grinned and continued frigging Kirsten's pussy, and her
hand continued gagging Kirsten's full, beautiful lips.
Kirsten's body bucked and quaked, her blue eyes wide and
desperate as she continued trying to scream.
"M'mmmfh!" Then, her body relaxed and Kitty removed her
hand-gag. However, being a diligent villainess, she
continued teasing the margins of Kirsten's pink, glistening
labia with her furry, buzzing index finger. "I hate you,"
Kirsten sighed. She was panting, and her breasts and face
glistened with sweat. Her long blond hair was a tousled
mess, with several strands plastered to her shining
forehead. "I'm going to have Nikki arrest you."
"You'll have to pry her apart from Bertie, first," she chuckled,
then kissed Kirsten's pouting lips. "I know you hate me,
Shyster. I can tell."
Kirsten's breathing slowly returned to normal, despite the fact
that Kitty's buzzing finger was still tracing a teasing path
around her now hyper-sensitive pussy. Her beautiful, naked
captor was still holding her close. "Thai," Kirsten said.
"Thai?" Kitty chuckled, then kissed Kirsten's ear.
"I want Phad Thai and Thai Pow Chicken," Kirsten
confirmed. "And beer. Blue Moon beer."
Kitty smiled, then released her captive, knelt on the bed,
turned off and peeled off the glove, then began peeling strips
from a roll of duct-tape and tacking them to the
headboard. "Phad Thai, Thai Pow Chicken, and Blue Moon
beer." Kirsten's damp, slimy panties went back in her
pouting mouth, then Kitty began stretching, plastering, and
smoothing the tape over her lips and lower face.
Kirsten kept her head perfectly still during the process,
staring daggers at her grinning captor. She continued
staring daggers as Kitty climbed off the bed and began dressing.
"Wait here," Kitty ordered, then laughed. "'Wait
here.' The classics are classics for a reason," she
chuckled. She turned and left the bedroom—then immediately
returned. "Silly me." She turned off the lights and
left again, this time closing the bedroom door behind her.
Bound and gagged, Kirsten followed her captor's final
order. Other than struggling until she could somehow
manage to roll off her bed and land on the floor with a thud, it
was all she could do.
One lousy orgasm before she goes out for food, Kirsten
thought. I wish she'd caught that Dr. Bondage
bitch. Then I'd have had more than one lousy orgasm.
She squirmed her naked, helpless body against the soft, rumpled
sheets, then shook her head to free her face from stray strands
of blond hair, sighed, and relaxed.
Okay, Kirsten admitted to herself, it wasn't that
lousy, and there will be more orgasms after dinner.
|The End of...
|A Kiss Before Tying
| Chapter 9