by Van ©2012
Chapter 7

Jane Rizzoli was miserable... exhausted and miserable and not having a good time.

Naked and dripping with sweat, she'd been bound in a standing spread-eagle and impaled on a vibrating dildo for hours, she wasn't sure how many.  Her jaws ached from the two-inch ball plugging her mouth, as did the muscles of her feet, calves, back, shoulders, and arms.  She'd been holding her crotch off the tiny, electrified, steel saddle just below the base of the dildo by standing up on her toes and/or lifting herself with her arms; however, she'd suffered occasional, very brief lapses in concentration when she'd inadvertently allowed herself to touch the saddle's copper contacts.  The result was always the same, a stinging shock she couldn't endure.  The pain had been terrific... but she knew that eventually her strength would fail and she'd have no choice but to endure the saddle's snapping, biting torment full time.

She glanced to the side and noted that Kate Beckett—her fellow cop and prisoner, suffering identical restraint, impalement, and predicament—was also sweaty, exhausted, and quite obviously nearing the end of her strength.  As Kate watched, a string of saliva dripped from Kate's chin to her chest and commingled with her copious sweat.

Suddenly, Kate flinched and moaned through her gag.  Jane could hear the quiet buzz of the vibrator impaling her companion.  She knew Kate's phallus was throbbing and sliding up and down.  In short, it was fucking her.  There was no polite way to describe what was happening, and what Jane's dildo had done to her countless times during their ordeal.  Besides, Jane was waaay past being polite about anything.

Adding torture to torment, the captives had received three "visitors."

The first was a dominatrix in a white rabbit costume—a very skimpy, very kinky, white leather rabbit costume.  Faceless behind the outfit's bunny mask, she'd used a white leather flogger to deliver a detailed lashing to first Kate, and then Jane, stinging their backs, buttocks, thighs, breasts, and stomachs.  And while the rabbit played with one victim, the dildo entertained the other.

The second visitor, arriving something like two hours after the rabbit had made her exit, had been a black cat.  She was another dominatrix, of course, this time in a kinky, black leather costume with a feline mask.  Needle-sharp claws protruded from the tips of her gloved fingers and she used them to tease and trace Kate's nipples, armpits, stomach, and thighs, never breaking the skin.  Jane watched in horror, only able to imagine the tickling, pinprick sensations causing Kate to shudder and squirm in her bonds.  The cat then produced a steel instrument, a spur-like wheel of needles spinning on the end of a slightly curved handle, and used it to explore the same areas of Kate's anatomy she had already worked over with her claws.

Meanwhile, Jane's dildo was pumping and vibrating in earnest, building to a crescendo that engendered a crashing orgasm punctuated by a stinging shock when she momentarily dropped the inch or two that landed her hypersensitive labia on the saddle.

Eventually, the Evil Catwoman finished with Kate and strolled towards Jane—and now she no longer had to imagine what the sadistic kitty's claws and pinwheel of needles felt like.  Jane learned firsthand.

Another two hours of holding themselves off the saddles... then their third visitor appeared.  This time it was a she-devil, a dominatrix in a red leather costume with a wickedly smiling horned mask.  Her specialty was nipple-clamps and electricity, and this time Jane got to go first.  Whoopee!  The devil placed an elaborate pair of basket-like clamps on Jane that caged her breasts, pricked the surface of the fleshy globes with an array of sharp needles, and at the same time squeezed and stretched her nipples.

Jane endured the cage-clamps and a gradually building rogering from her dildo while the Red Devil used a pair of electrified wands to torment Kate.  The New York cop bucked and struggled as the snapping, sparking glass globes on the tips of the wands played across her sweat-beaded skin from head to toe.

After several very long minutes Jane "enjoyed" another unwelcome and very unspectacular orgasm.  She was too far gone for actual pleasure, even the involuntary and entirely physiological variety.  She slumped in her bonds, then jerked when she touched the saddle, again, then watched in dull misery as the devil continued to torment Kate.  And eventually, inevitably, the devil transferred the cage-clamps to Kate's breasts—Holy Mother of GAWD it hurt when the nipple clamps were released—then used the electric wands on Jane.

Finally, they were left alone in their pain and exhaustion.  The mirrors allowed Jane to examine her entire body, more or less, front and back, and Kate's stretched form as well.  They were both flushed and dripping with sweat; however, they were unmarked.  There were no welts from the rabbit's lash or the cat's claws.  It was... strange.

Jane sighed through her gag and settled in to wait for the arrival of a fourth visitor, wondering if she'd last that long, or if she'd pass out before the door opened again.  How long has it been?  Six hours?  Eight?  More?  How much more can we take?

Suddenly, the door slid open and Irena appeared.  She was wearing a dominatrix outfit: boots, hobble-skirt, corset, and opera gloves, all in black leather,.  It was different from the last outfit Jane had seen her wearing, but was similar in style and sexiness.  Her lips were the same flaming red and her pale blue eyes danced as she smiled at her victims.  Following her into the room was—"Nrrfh?"  Jane's eyes popped wide and she stared in astonishment.  Agent Blondie!  The Fed who waltzed into the precinct and took over my case!

Yes, it was Special Agent Olivia Dunham of the FBI—and she was completely naked.  Her hands were atop her head in the classic surrender pose and her face was calm and relaxed, her blue eyes staring straight ahead.  In the mirrors, Jane could see her long, straight, blond hair cascading down her back.  Her fit, well-toned body was tense and not relaxed like her features.  Also, her nipples were fully erect.

Irena focused her smile on Jane, then gestured towards Olivia.  "Detective Rizzoli, I believe you know Special Agent Dunham.  Olivia, say hello to Detective Rizzoli."

"Hello, Detective Rizzoli," Olivia intoned.

"Oh, Olivia," Irena chuckled.  "We're all friends here.  Use her first name, and give each of her nipples a nice hello lick."

"Yes, Mistress," Olivia answered.  Then, a trembling smile curled her lips.  "Hello, Jane," she said, then leaned close and slowly dragged her tongue across Jane's right nipple—and then her left.

Jane stared at the dazed and seemingly mesmerized Fed, but somehow Olivia's bizarre compliance with their Mistress' orders was unsurprising.  In fact, it seemed almost... natural.

"Good girl," Irena purred, then gently led Oliva in front of Kate.  "Detective Kate Beckett, this is Special Agent Olivia Dunham."

"Pleased to meet you Kate," Olivia said without prompting, then gave each of Kate's nipples a "hello lick."

"Olivia will be joining our little play session," Irena announced.  "Isn't that nice?"  She led Olivia to stand under the winch assembly on Kate's right.

Just then, the white rabbit, black cat, and red devil strolled through the open door in all their kinky, sexy, sinister leather-clad glory.  Irena gestured towards Olivia, then strolled to stand in front of Jane and Kate.  The white rabbit handed her Mistress the saddle remote as she passed.  Irena pointed the remote first at Kate's post, saddle, and dildo, then at Jane's.  "All right, my beauties, you may relax.  Down off your toes."

Jane eased herself off her aching toes, letting her crotch slip down the couple of inches required for her to fully contact the copper-studded saddle.  The smooth minimal seat didn't exactly take her weight, but her feet were finally flat on the floor and she wasn't being shocked.  Kate had done the same, and she also wasn't being shocked, as far as Jane could tell.  Irena tossed the remote to the red devil, and she used it to lower the chains of the winch over Olivia's head.

Meanwhile the rabbit and cat were making trips back and forth between the cabinets behind the mirror panels and Olivia and were strapping suspension cuffs around the complacent blonde's wrists, matching cuffs around her ankles, and securing the cuffs to the floor sockets and to the overhead chains.  Next, a third post, saddle, and dildo was snapped into the middle socket and eased inside Olivia's vagina.  Finally, a ball-gag was gently thrust into the Agent's mouth and buckled under her hair at the nape of her neck and under her chin.

Now, all three prisoners were identically posed and restrained.  Granted, Jane and Kate were much the worse for wear, tired in the extreme and glistening with sweat, but Olivia had, indeed, joined the "play session."

"Olivia," Irena said, "you're still my slave, of course, but feel free to move as you wish and express yourself."

Olivia immediately tugged on her wrist cuffs, focused on Irena, forced a growl through her gag, and glared at the smiling dominatrix.

"Beautiful," Irena sighed, then nodded at the red devil.  The devil pointed the remote at Olivia's saddle and thumbed a button.

"Nrrrf!"  Olivia immediately flinched, went up on her toes, and a shudder shook her helpless, spreadeagled body.

Jane sighed through her gag.  Been there and done that, she thought, for the last several hours.  She could tell Kate was having similar thoughts.

"Ladies," Irena announced, "please entertain Olivia for the next three hours.  She has some catching up to do."

"But Mistress," the white rabbit objected, "the blonde is uncontaminated by the Dragon's stench.  She's already your slave."

Irena smiled.  "And you object to making her suffer for no good reason?"

"No, Mistress," the rabbit responded.  "I was just wondering what we've done to deserve such a kind and generous Mistress."

Irena laughed.  "Silly rabbit."  She stepped close, lifted the rabbit's chin with one gloved hand, and gazed into her masked eyes.  "Loyalty and love are always rewarded in the House of Pain.  Besides, I have a new toy of my own to play with."  She turned and strolled towards the door, pausing at the threshold to point towards Jane and Kate.  "Make sure they remain awake.  When Olivia needs a breather, you may use whatever means you deem necessary to make sure they're paying attention.  I'll be back for them later."

"Yes, Mistress," the dominatrices responded in unison.

The door hissed closed and Irena was gone.

The rabbit, cat, and devil stood gazing at Olivia for several seconds and the helpless blonde gazed back, defiance in her eyes—defiance and fear, but mainly defiance.

"So," the cat said, "rock-paper-scissors to see who goes first?"

Dana Scully was naked, bound, and gagged.

Specifically, her arms were raised and crossed behind her head.  Leather cuffs encircling her upper arms and wrists enforced the pose.  In addition, her fingers and hands were encased in some sort of tight mittens.  A rubber ball-gag filled her mouth to capacity and its strap encircled her head and was affixed to the upper-arm cuffs, enforcing silence and trapping the back of her head against her arms.  Also, leather cuffs and straps bound her ankles to her upper thighs in what she believed was referred to as a "frog-tie."

She was on a large, very comfortable bed, in a dark, severely Modern bedroom.  The walls were covered in black leather punctuated by built-in cabinets of ebony-stained wood.  Translucent, silver-gray drapes were drawn across a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, half-obscuring an elevated view of nighttime Manhattan.  Most of the light in the room, and there wasn't much, emanated from dimly glowing sconces and track-mounted fixtures in the ceiling.

Dana squirmed her naked body against the bed's soft, high thread count sheets, testing her bonds.  She'd already convinced herself that they were inescapable, but she had to keep trying.  She could flex and spread her folded legs and bend and twist at the waist, but that was about it.  She'd probably be able to squirm off the bed and drop onto the floor, but what was the point of that?

Adding confusion to helplessness, Dana couldn't remember how she came to be in this condition—how she came to be in such a vulnerable, exposed state of bound and gagged helplessness.  She remembered walking into a restaurant, an Indian restaurant.  She was accompanying Agent Dunham, and... that was it.  That was all she could remember, that and a pair of pale-blue eyes—gorgeous, pale-blue eyes—but nothing else.

Suddenly, a naked female figure stepped from the shadows.  Dana rolled onto her side and stared at the apparition.  The woman had long, auburn hair, its reddish tint visible even in the darkened bedroom.  She had a figure to die for, with full, round breasts, a narrow waist, and hips that flared in perfect proportion to the rest of her physique.  Her skin was smooth and tan, her muscles toned and athletic.  Her smiling lips were flaming red, and her eyes—

Dana shivered in her bonds and tugged on her bonds.  It's her!  The eyes!  It's the woman in the restaurant!

"Such a pretty prize," the woman purred, "fiery hair above and below.  Fair, pale skin, smooth and firm.  I haven't had an Irish rose in...  How long has it been?  Seven years?"  She sat on the bed, reached out, and caressed Dana's stomach.  "Just a hint of baby fat, and yet, you're strong and fit."  Her hand moved in a slow, circular caress, causing Dana to shiver and raising goosebumps across her helpless body.  "Just a hint of freckles," the woman continued.  "Not that I mind freckles, of course.  My last red-haired lass was freckled from head to toe, and her locks were a glorious riot of curls.  She was Australian, actually, but her great grandmother was from County Cork.  She had green eyes... like you, Dana."

Dana tried to roll away.  The woman's touch was somehow electric, more than a simple touch.  As The woman's fingers and palm slid across Dana's abdomen, she half-expected to see flying sparks.  Waves of titillating energy rolled across Dana's torso, between her legs, and over her upper thighs.  "M'mmpfh!"

"Hush, youngster," the woman chuckled.  She reclined on the bed and lifted a long, tan leg across one of Dana's folded legs and her free hand gently gripped a handful of tousled red hair, pinning Dana on her side and controlling her struggles.  "Yes, wiggle and squirm, but quietly."  Her hand slid lower, through Dana's red pubic bush and across her flushed, glistening labia.  "Struggle while I feed, Dana," the woman purred.  "Ah, so delicious.  A most welcome treat."

Dana's body went rigid as the incredible sensations coursed through her pussy.  It was overpowering, overwhelming.  Dana screamed through her gag—"M'MMPFH!"—her green eyes wide and staring into the darkness.  Her breath caught in her throat and her pulse pounded as the woman's hand continued working its erotic magic.  I'm cumming! Dana realized.  She just started touching me and I'm cumming!

And Dana did cum—and the multiple orgasm was shivering and prolonged and glorious!

Her pale skin flushed and shining with sweat, her breasts and pointing nipples heaving as she panted through flaring nostrils, Dana shivered in the woman's embrace.

"Forgive me, Dana," the woman whispered.  "Your fear and confusion are like a savory sauce.  That's why I stole your memory.  That's why I ordered you to forget."  She caressed Dana's nipples, then gave her right breast a gentle squeeze.  "You may now remember my name, Dana, but not where you are or how you came to be here."

"M'mmrf!"  Dana remembered.  Mistress Irena!  She introduced herself in the restaurant!  Dana fought her bonds with renewed vigor, not to escape, but so she could embrace her beloved Mistress and shower her beautiful body with the worshipful kisses that were her due.  Irena!  My beautiful Mistress!

"Easy, youngster," Irena chuckled, and kissed Dana's forehead.  She then released the buckle of Dana's ball-gag and pulled the rubber sphere from her mouth.

"I love you!" Dana gasped the instant the ball came free.

Irena leaned close and lightly kissed Dana's lips.  "I know, Dana," she purred, then resumed the kiss, and this time her tongue delved deep into Dana's mouth.

Dana returned the kiss, and once again a shudder shook her captive form.

Finally, the kiss ended and Dana lay helpless and content in Irena's arms.

"If you were a cat, you'd be purring," Irena teased.  "Wouldn't you, Dana?"

"Yes, Mistress," Dana sighed, squirming her body against Irena's smooth, warm flesh, as best she could.

"I'll bring you a saucer of cream, later," Irena chuckled.  She reached out and straightened Dana's hair, freeing tangled strands that clung to her smiling, glistening face.  "I thought I was very clever to think of using Helen Magnus to resolve our little Rupandra problem, but now I learn she has already involved herself in the affair, that you are using her as a consultant.  I was too clever by half to use Helen's name when I called Olivia.  I could have used any name.  It was a joke with myself to tell her I was Helen.  But then, if I hadn't pretended to be the beautiful Dr. Magnus, I probably wouldn't have attracted you, my precious Irish rose, would I?"

Irena began caressing Dana's pussy, again, but this time without feeding from her aura.  Dana gasped and squirmed in response.

"The gods mock my insolent pride," Irena continued, "then reward me with more gifts.  What can it mean?"

Dana continued writhing.  "Mistress," she whispered.

Irena's hand slid from her pussy and rested on Dana's tummy.  "Now, Dana, I want you to tell me everything the Bureau know about my kind.  Then, tell me everything you know about the Sanctuary Network."

"Yes, Mistress," Dana sighed.

"Don't pout, my ginger kitty," Irena chuckled.  "We'll make love again, afterwards."

Dana smiled.  "Yes, Mistress."

Dr. Helen Magnus' desktop computer beeped to attract her attention.  The screen announced an incoming call, an encrypted video-link from outside the Sanctuary's global network.  She tapped a key and a window popped with additional information.  The caller's location was "undisclosed," but Helen recognized the code phrase which had allowed their systems to establish the link.  She smiled and tapped a function key.  Across the office a painting slid to the side, revealing a wide-screen monitor.  The Sanctuary Network logo appeared, then dissolved into the image of an attractive woman in a dark business suit.

"Irena," Helen said, her smile broadening, "what a happy coincidence that you should call.  Or is it?"

Irena did not return Helen's smile.  "I assume you wish to apologize and beg the forgiveness of the Five Clans?" she intoned.

"Hardly," Helen responded, still smiling.  "By agreement, the Sanctuary has every right to investigate and act upon incidents of predatory behavior, and to coordinate said investigations with local law enforcement.  If the Five Clans weren't so secretive, I would have requested assistance immediately."

"The Incufumarae wouldn't have five clans if we weren't secretive," Irena stated.  "Our race might have been wiped out centuries ago if our existence was widely known."

"That may be so," Helen agreed, "but I am your friend."

"Yes, you are," Irena agreed, finally smiling.  "You're looking as beautiful as ever, Helen."

"As are you, Irena," Helen answered, "though I hardly recognize you without your leathers.  Why the business woman disguise?"

Irena shrugged.  "I can hardly stroll the streets of a modern city in my 'work uniform,' can I?"

"Foolish of me to ask," Helen chuckled.  "How long has it been?  Forty years?  Lisbon?"

"I think so," Irena answered.  "Let's reminisce later.  Do you still wish to investigate the scientific and medical properties of my race?"

"Of course," Helen responded.  "Curiosity keeps me young."

"That and the injection of Vampiric serum which changed you forever," Irena purred.

[Author's note: If you're unfamiliar with Helen Magnus' special nature, don't worry about it.  Suffice it to say she has led a very, VERY long and eventful life.]

"Just so," Helen agreed.  In point of fact, Irena knew much more about her past than she knew about Irena's.  "Anyway, why do you ask?"

"Rupandra—the Red Dragon youngster who caused the brouhaha which prompted you to nose around in the affairs of the Incufumarae—is about to undergo her first change.  The Five Clans have agreed to engage you in the capacity of consultant to shepherd her through the process.  You may conduct any non-invasive tests you deem necessary, but you will share all of your notes and conclusions with the Clans.  However, you will share nothing with the FBI, the UN, NATO, the Girl Scouts, or any other organization.  Agreed?"

Helen's smile broadened.  "Certainly!  Please express my gratitude and appreciation to the Clan Elders—but I must ask: why now, after all my earlier requests have been refused?"

Irena shrugged.  "Clan politics.  The Red Dragons would lose face and incur obligation if they took custody of Rupandra from another clan.  Also, times change.  Even the most conservative of the Elders have come to accept the need for more understanding of our true nature.  Knowledge is power.  Finally, your scientific and ethical reputations are impeccable."

Helen bowed her head in acknowledgment.  "Thank you.  Trust is a precious gift, not to be squandered.  You have my word."  She glanced at the screen on her desk.  "I see you've attached a large text file."

"General information about the change process," Irena explained.  "You can expect a—shall we say—'delivery' in a couple of days.  I assume you have the required facilities?"

"There are lower level containment cells available," Helen confirmed.  "I assume this will be a voluntary commitment."

"After a fashion," Irena purred.

"Irena," Helen said in a warning tone.

"Rupandra knows she has incurred the wrath of the Red Dragon and will be punished, eventually."  Irena shrugged.  "Your greatest concern should be the lapses in judgement and mood swings that often accompany the time of change."

"Hormones?" Helen suggested.

Irena shrugged, again.  "You're the scientist.  Anyway, Rupandra isn't a sadistic individual, but her recent treatment of her slaves—'normal victims' you would call them—has escalated to unnecessary cruelty.  Her living entombment of an actress, for example—"

"What?" Helen gasped.

"Don't have kittens," Irena chuckled.  "Rupandra, herself, made sure her victim would be rescued.  Still, the incident is a warning.  Self control will become increasingly difficult for the youngster as she nears the change."

"All necessary precautions will be observed," Helen nodded.  "Besides, we both know I am immune to the influence of an Incufumara's pheromones."

"Yes," Irena smiled, "but you can be overpowered, restrained, and fed upon."

Helen's smile became a knowing smirk.  "So, we're back to reminiscing about Lisbon."

"Another time," Irena chuckled.  "I'm to be your liaison until this matter is concluded.  The attachment includes protocols if you need to contact me."

Helen nodded.  "One more thing.  Law enforcement is involved, and Rupandra has committed crimes."

"The Five Clans will clean up that aspect of the Dragon child's mess," Irena explained.  "Victims that require compensation shall receive it, and the police and FBI personnel involved shall be dealt with; in a benign manner, of course."

"I should hope so," Helen huffed.  "I can help with that aspect if you'll let me."

Irena shook her head.  "Not necessary.  Too many cooks, as the saying goes.  Don't worry about it."

Helen knew Irena was up to something, but she could tell she wasn't going to get anything more out of her.  "I look forward to Rupandra's arrival.  Why don't you accompany her?  I'd love to have you as my guest, by which I mean an actual upstairs guest, not a guest in one of our containment environments."

"Another time, Helen," Irena purred.  "Perhaps you can be my guest at some point in the future.  You know how hospitable I can be.  Goodbye."  She touched something off-screen before Helen could answer.  Her image vanished and was replaced by the Sanctuary logo.

Still smiling, Helen shook her head and pressed the function key.  "We'll always have Lisbon," she muttered under her breath.  The screen went dark and the painting slid back to cover the monitor.  Helen opened the text file Irena had sent and began to read.  "Fascinating," she sighed, and started taking notes on a small pad.