by Van ©2012
DR. MAURA ISLES HOUSE.
Maura favored her BFF with an
expression of great
disappointment. "You promised."
"Did not." Jane countered.
Maura sighed. "You did, at lunch. I made the
suggestion and your response was, 'That'll be great!' That's what
you said, word-for-word."
"It's called sarcasm,
"You promised," Maura reiterated. "We can order the
costume online right now."
"Maura," Jane whined, "I am not
wearing a metal bikini to your Halloween party."
"The party's theme is science fiction movies and television,"
Maura responded, "and Princess Leia as Jabba the Hutt's prisoner
is a cultural icon."
"Then you come as a
naked space-princess," Jane huffed.
"I already have my costume," Maura smiled. "Star Trek—The Original Series.
Boots, pantyhose, Science-blue miniskirt uniform, and a working
Jane was dubious. "Really? Really, Maura? Working?"
Maura's dimpled smile broadened. "There's a company that
makes a replica tricorder casing you can slide your iPhone
into. They've written an app that makes the appropriate
sounds and displays a variety of images. You can set the
graphics style on Original
Series or Next
Generation and Voyager."
"That's wonderful," Jane drawled.
Jane sighed. "Ma will be there. Franky and Tommy
will be there. Frost
and Korsak will be there."
"You have a beautiful body, Jane," Maura intoned.
"So do you," Jane countered. "You dance around in a metal bra and a
frikkin'-frakkin' chastity belt."
"It's not a chastity belt," Maura said, "and I told you—"
"I know, I know," Jane interrupted. "You're coming as
"Lieutenant Nyota Uhura was Communications Officer," Maura
corrected. "She wore a red
"And you'll be in Spock and Bones blue," Jane sighed.
"We'll discuss this later," Maura promised, then smiled,
again. "Okay, strip. Time for your next exam."
"Mau-raaah!" Jane whined. At the same time, a thrill rippled through her
gut. (Her crotch, actually.) They both knew Maura's
continuing "medical research" was a polite fiction, an excuse
for their new games of sexual shenanigans. Dr. Isles had
already conducted a thorough and highly detailed inspection of
Detective Rizzoli's body on three previous occasions, including
Mother Rizzoli was visiting a cousin in Philadelphia, the
security system was armed and in privacy mode to keep Jane's
brothers out, and neither of them were on call. Jane had
no viable excuse not to comply with Maura's request.
However... Maybe it's
time to switch things up, Jane thought, and mustered
her best poker face. "You're really worried I'm gonna grab
you and slap you in cuffs?" she sighed.
Maura smiled (and her eyes danced with mischief). "It's
always a possibility."
Jane gasped in apparent surprise. "Wait! It's all
coming back!" She leaped to her feet. "I
remember! I remember everything!"
Maura's eyes widened. "You do?"
Jane nodded, stepped forward, reached under her jacket and
behind her back, and produced her handcuffs. "I grabbed
Maura took a step back. "Jane, what are you—Hey!"
Jane had spun Maura around, forced her over the back of one of
the easy chars, and was cuffing her wrists behind her
back. "I remember it all!" Jane released Maura and
took a step back. "Did you replace that roll of duct
Maura lifted herself off the back of the chair and turned to
face her "kidnapper." "No, not yet. Let me
go." She rolled her shoulders and tugged on Jane's
"Pity," Jane grinned. "Guess we'll have to make do with
that stuff you ordered online, those padded Velcro cuff thingies
and the ball-gag with the bungee cord strap."
Maura kicked off her heels. Now in stocking feet, pencil
skirt, blouse, and jacket, she slowly backed into the living
room. "You still
don't remember," she accused. Strangely (or not so strangely) a smile
was threatening to curl her lips and dimple her cheeks. It
more or less put the lie to her distress.
Jane slowly followed her "escaping" prisoner. She snapped
her fingers. "Oh, I know what we can do for your
party. I'll wear
your Star Trek costume
and you can order a Leia-the-sex-slave costume in your size. I can put
shoetrees in your Star Trek
boots to stretch them out a little and give me more toe
room. Either that or buy new boots. We're the same
dress size, more or less, but we both know you take a bigger bra
size in metal bikinis."
"No way," Maura huffed, but she was still smiling (almost).
"Hey!" Jane's eyes popped wide, again. "I just
remembered! When I captured you the first time I tickled
you to make you easier to control!"
"Y-you did no such thing!" Maura responded, continuing to back
away. They both knew Dr. Maura Isles was very ticklish.
"I think I did," Jane said gravely. "Of course, if you
agree to the costume swap, I won't have to do it again."
"Jane," Maura warned, "don't you dare—Oh!" She'd backed
into the couch and stumbled.
Jane was on her in a flash and her fingers danced across Maura's
Maura giggled and squirmed. "Te-he-he—Stop! J-Jane,
"You've always wanted to be Princess Leia," Jane purred, "admit
Jane continued her tickling assault. "I think you do."
"N-nooo! Eeee! I mean, Yesss!
Yesss!" She managed to plant her nylon-clad feet and roll
to the side, then scampered towards the back rooms of the house.
Jane followed with deliberate speed—and a wicked smile. "Where
do you think you're goin', Maura?" she chuckled. "The
doors are all locked, remember?"
"You'll never find me," Maura's voice echoed from the hallway,
"not if I'm hiding in the bedroom!" This was followed by
"I'll try not to rip your blouse this time, Maura," Jane
promised as she strolled towards the bedroom, "or your jacket."
|rizzoli & beckett
Natalie Rhodes and Kate Beckett
stood shoulder to shoulder in the lobby of Kate's apartment
building, watching the lights above the elevator door change as
the car descended. Both were dressed in boots, jeans, dark
blouses, and leather jackets, and both had their long brown hair
loose about their shoulders, framing their faces.
An observer who had watched them walk down the Manhattan street
and enter the building might have taken them for sisters, or
even twins; not just because of their similar clothing, hair,
height, and build, but because of the way they moved.
Casual gestures, the set of their shoulders, the sway of their
hips, the way they leaned close and laughed at a shared
joke—everything about them was similar.
Closeup inspection would have revealed Natalie's green eyes,
rounder face, fuller lips, and the slightly reddish tint of her
hair—as opposed to Kate's brown eyes and narrower face with more
prominent cheekbones. But the illusion of familial
relationship was uncanny, and it was not an accident.
Natalie was doing more research, fine-tuning her Nikki Heat
persona by studying Kate, the character's inspiration.
"Sorry Captain Gates threw you out of the precinct," Kate said
as the bell dinged and the doors opened.
"Oh, no problem," Natalie answered. "I'm here for Nikki
Heat at home, Nikki Heat at rest and play."
Kate rolled her eyes, but was still smiling. The first
time Natalie shadowed her for purposes of research it had been
kinda creepy, but that was then. Kate considered their
twin act to be a bit of a hoot. She liked Natalie.
In fact, she liked her well enough to have given her a
nickname. "Nat, you've starred in two Nikki Heat movies, and
there were scenes in Nikki's apartment in both of them."
Natalie smiled. "One can never do enough research."
A blush touched Kate's cheeks. In point of fact, the fight
scene in Heat Wave
that had become one of those Famous Moments in American Cinema
had happened in Nikki's apartment. The scene was iconic
thanks to the expert fight-choreography, the chiaroscuro effect
of deep shadow and glaring city light shining through the open
windows, and the masterful editing. Also, Nikki (Natalie)
had just emerged from the bath and had fought her hulking male
opponent totally in the nude.
They entered the elevator. Kate had stopped at the
mailboxes to get her mail and several envelopes and advertizing
flyers were clutched in her right hand, along with her
keys. They got off on Kate's floor and strolled down the
hallway to her door.
"Do you usually cook or eat out?" Natalie asked.
Kate shrugged. "On Fridays I usually order takeout."
Natalie nodded. "Cool."
And speaking of takeout, a half dozen folded paper menus from
neighborhood restaurants were scattered on the floor in front of
Kate's door. This was a common occurrence in NYC, unless
the building had a doorman. Kate handed her keys to
Natalie and stooped to gather the menus.
Natalie unlocked the door and entered the loft. The lights
were off and the drapes drawn, so the space was quite
dark. She took a few steps forward and—"Eeek!"
Someone had leaped from the shadows, grabbed Natalie, and
executed a judo-like take-down. She'd been slammed onto the floor on
her stomach hard enough to knock the air from her lungs, and as
she struggled for breath her arms were wrenched behind her back,
loops of rope tightened around her wrists, and were cinched
tight in one fluid motion. Then, her booted ankles were
crossed, bound with more rope, and her legs folded back until
her boot heels touched her groping fingers. Next,
something thick and soft was thrust between her teeth, its
attached ropes snapped taut, and Natalie found herself in a
stringent, back-arching hogtie with her chin off the floor and
her head pulled back.
The take-down and capture was over in a matter of seconds.
Natalie mewled through the gag, rolled onto her side, shook the
hair from her face, and beheld a female figure dressed in black
from head to toe. Soft boots, tights, long-sleeve leotard,
gloves, and a full hood with blue eyes shining through a narrow
slit—her attacker was a ninja,
or maybe a costumed super-villain!
The figure peeled off her gloves and let them drop. "Oh,
Kate, how very disappointing," she sighed in a mocking
voice. "That was waaay
too easy." She grabbed the front of her hood, pulled it
over her head, and shook out a mass of long, straight, blond
hair. "I'm going to have to punish you severely for your
lack of vigilance and—"
Suddenly, the lights clicked on and the black-clad blonde gasped
Kate was standing in the doorway, the mail and takeout menus a
scatter on the floor at her feet, her Glock in her hand, and a
smile on her face. "Hello, Ollie," she said. "You've
found time for another visit. How wonderful. You've
met Natalie Rhodes, of course."
Olivia was aghast, and blushing. "Oops!" She leaned
towards her captive.
"No you don't!" Kate warned, still pointing the Glock at the
"intruder." She stole a quick glance to double-check that
the weapon's safety was on, then closed the door behind
She turned the deadbolt, her eyes never leaving Olivia. Click. "Take a few
steps back and put your hands on top of your head, fingers
Her cheeks still rose-red and an embarrassed smile on her lips,
Olivia complied. Special Agent Dunham knew the
drill. Without prompting she knelt, crossed her booted
ankles, and settled her weight back on her heels. She
watched as Kate knelt beside Natalie and loosened the hitch
keeping the padded bit-gag in the actress' mouth.
"Sorry about this," Kate said as she eased the bit from
Natalie's mouth and whipped the rope from around her head.
"Ollie and I study the same martial art, hojojutsu, and whenever we
get a chance we—"
"You guys do the Clouseau and Cato thing!" Natalie interrupted,
smiling up at Kate, "like in the later Pink Panther movies."
"Uh, yeah," Kate admitted. "I gave Ollie a spare key and I
have a key to her place. When she's in New York she tries
to ambush me—"
"And when she's in Cambridge she tries to jump me," Olivia
"Did I tell you that
you could talk, evil ninja?" Kate asked Olivia. "Zip it."
Olivia complied. She was still smiling. They all
"Are you gonna untie me?" Natalie asked Kate.
"You think you can wiggle out of that on your own?" Kate
Natalie twisted her wrists and rolled her shoulders.
"Uh... maybe... eventually."
Kate holstered her weapon, reached for the free ends of the
black rope, took an additional hitch around Natalie's wrists,
and cinched it tight. "How 'bout now?"
"That makes it worse," Natalie huffed. "But you know
"Yes, I do," Kate chuckled as she tied a series of knots, then
stood and walked to a black canvas duffel-bag on the floor next
to the door. "Let's see what you've brought me,
Ollie." She unzipped the duffel and dumped out the
contents—which consisted of a great many coils of black rope,
several coils of black cord, and a black leather head-harness
incorporating a two-inch, black, rubber ball. Kate lifted
the harness by the D-ring at what would be the crown of a
hypothetical wearer's head and smiled. "This is
new." She dropped the harness-gag, drew her weapon, and
pointed it at Olivia in one fluid motion.
The blonde was in a crouch, halfway out of the kneeling posture
and frozen in the act of lunging towards Kate.
"I don't think so," Kate purred.
"Can't blame a girl for trying," Olivia sighed, then settled
into her former pose and placed her hands back atop her head.
Kate focused on Natalie. "Uh, this is just a game we
play. It has nothing to do with Nikki Heat. Richard
Castle knows nothing about it."
"I understand," Natalie answered, squirming in her bonds.
"Games can be... fun."
"Yes, they can," Kate agreed. "Seriously. You're not
Natalie laughed. "Are you kidding? I could tell you
about Hollywood parties that would make your toes curl."
"Maybe later," Kate chuckled. "Uh, this'll be our little secret, okay?"
"Just between us girls," Natalie promised. "Mum's the
"Good," Kate huffed. "Ollie and I would hate to have to
put that gag back in your mouth, lock you in a trunk, and drop
you in the East River."
"I'd hate that too," Natalie smiled.
"Well, in for a penny..." She smiled at Olivia. "You
lose this round, Ollie. Guess I'm gonna have to show you
the new rope-work I've learned since our last encounter."
She shifted her smile to Natalie. "If you don't mind, I'm
gonna tie up this ninja intruder like a pretzel and gag her with
her new gag. Then, we'll order something. Don't
worry, I'll untie you before the food gets here."
"Hey, I'm hungry too," Olivia objected.
"We'll feed you," Kate promised. Her eyes were still on
Natalie. "Really? You're okay with this?"
Natalie grinned. "Do whatever you'd do if I wasn't
here." She squirmed in her bonds. "Consider me a
hogtied neutral observer."
Kate's grin widened into a wicked smile. "Okay." She
focused on Olivia. The Glock was still trained in the
smiling blonde's general direction. "Up," she ordered and
Olivia climbed to her feet, her hands still atop of her
head. "Now," Kate continued, "strip!"
|rizzoli & beckett
Irena—Seventh Cycle Elder of the Ice-Wolf Clan of the
Incufumarae—corporate lawyer—CEO of House of Pain,
dominatrix—(and those were just the identities of her current
cycle)—rose from her throne-like chair, strolled around her
massive desk, and approached the guest seated in one of her
visitor chairs. She leaned close and whispered in her
ear. "Helen, if you don't wipe that disrespectful smirk
off your face, you're going to be very sorry."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Helen
responded. The dimpled smile never left her face and her
blue eyes sparkled.
"I agreed to this meeting and all
of your conditions, but I can't help but be amused by the
ambiance of your establishment."
Irena ignored Helen's criticism of the House of Pain's
decor. "Your calendar is clear for the next two days?"
"Next week I have a very important conference to attend in
Geneva," Helen answered, "but yes, I can spare most of the next two
days. Are you finally
going to deliver the codex that will allow me to better
interpret what little data I managed to collect during
"All in good time, Helen." Irena pulled a two-inch by
eighteen-inch strip of rigid black plastic from her right
boot-top. "First, I have to deliver the message from the
Council of Elders I mentioned before."
"The Council of the Ice-Wolves?" Helen inquired.
"The Council of all
the Clans," Irena answered. She grasped Helen's left hand
and placed it palm down on the armrest of the visitor chair,
then slapped the strip over Helen's wrist. With a snap the plastic band
wrapped around Helen's wrist and the armrest.
Helen lifted her left arm—or rather, she tried to lift her left
arm. The band held firm. "How very clever."
She continued testing the restraint. "It's like one of
those snap-bracelets for children."
"Just so," Irena agreed, stepped around the back of the chair,
and secured Helen's right wrist with a second band. She
then returned to her throne behind the desk.
Helen continued twisting her wrists and testing her
restraints. "What principle is involved?"
"The bracelets," Helen clarified. "A chemical
reaction? Perhaps the shedding of hydrogen bonds among the
surface polymers? Mechanical adhesion at the microscopic
level? Is the material pseudoelastic with shape memory?"
Irena smiled. "I plan on refreshing my Materials Science
education during my eighth
cycle. I'm just a happy consumer."
Helen smiled back. "I still think they're clever.
Now..." She focused on Irena. "What is this message
you are so keen to deliver?"
Irena's smile faded. "Are you giving me orders, Helen?"
"No, Mistress," Helen answered. She was still smiling.
"You're not fooling anyone, Helen," Irena intoned. "You
could have tried to run and hide."
"I will never gain the trust of your Council by running and
hiding," Helen responded.
Irena rolled her eyes, then scowled
at her guest/prisoner. "It's not a matter of trust, Dr.
Magnus. The Incufumarae will not tolerate interference in
their affairs." Her smile returned. "There.
Message delivered. The actual text is a great deal more
long-winded, but that's the crux of the matter. I'll
e-mail you the full transcript. Now, let us get down to
the real reason you
accepted my invitation."
"I don't know what you mean," Helen said primly. "I will
go to great lengths to maintain the fragile peace between
normals and abnormals, and to help all lifeforms in distress—be
they kidnapped normals or abnormal kidnappers. Good
relations between the Sanctuary Network and the Incufumarae are
in both our interests—notwithstanding your breach of promise by ordering Rupandra to
have her way with me and thereby very nearly ruining my research
Irena's smile never wavered. "And despite your professed
outrage... here you are."
Helen shrugged, a gesture allowed by her wrist bonds. "As
I said, I am here to demonstrate trust, and one never knows what
one might learn in the course of such an encounter."
Irena chuckled. "You will learn many things in the next two days,
Helen." She tapped a button on her phone. There was
a pause... during which Helen and Irena continued to exchange
smiles... then the office door opened.
Two of Irena's Ladies entered. Both were dressed in tight,
provocative, and sinister leather costumes, like their
Mistress. One was blond and Nordic in appearance and the
other was Asian, Chinese or Japanese, with long, straight, raven
hair. Both were quite beautiful—and scary. They
bowed and spoke in unison. "Mistress."
Irena waved a dismissive hand towards Helen. "Take this
one to the Black Chamber. I believe it has been reserved
for the entire week?"
"Yes, Mistress," the pair answered.
Helen blinked in surprise. "The 'entire
week?'—Mrrrf!!" The blonde's right palm was clamped over
her mouth in a tight hand-gag and the back of her head was
pinned against the front of the blonde's corset.
"If you want to leave in two days," Irena said, her eyes locked
with Helen's, "you'll have to earn
it." She waved her hand, again, then turned to her
computer keyboard and began tapping the keys. Her
attention was now exclusively on whatever was being displayed on
Working in concert, the Ladies forced the two-inch, red rubber
ball of a ball-gag into Helen's mouth, lifted her hair, and
buckled its black strap at the nape of her neck.
"You sniveling worm," the Asian sneered as she snapped a tiny
padlock through the hasp of the gag's buckle. "How dare you speak in the
presence of our Mistress without permission. The lash will
cure your impertinence."
A blindfold of chamois-thin black leather tightened over Helen's
eyes. She felt her handlers somehow releasing the plastic
bands securing her wrists, then she was hauled to her feet and
her wrists handcuffed behind her back. Click-click-click—Click-click-click.
Next, with a dominatrix clutching her tousled hair, Helen was
dragged away. She heard a door close behind them and knew
they'd left Irena's office. The stiletto heels of the
Ladies' thigh boots and Helen's four-inch high heels were
tapping on a tile floor. Helen's tight skirt was impeding
her steps, but her handlers were making sure she didn't stumble.
"That's a pretty suit," the blonde said. Helen was pretty
sure it was the blonde.
Helen felt the front of her jacket being unbuttoned and opened
as they continued to walk.
"Anne Klein," the Asian said. Obviously, she'd read the
label sewn to the inside breast pocket of Helen's jacket.
"It would be a shame to ruin it."
"That'll be her
choice," the blonde said, "one of the very few choices Mistress
will allow our 'sniveling worm' before she kicks what's left of
her firm little tushie out the front door."
|rizzoli & beckett
blonde and Asian doms marched Helen into a room and removed her
handcuffs. She assumed she was in "The Black
Chamber." Her blindfold and ball-gag remained in place.
"Strip," the blonde ordered, "and be quick about it."
Helen hesitated—and a gloved hand slapped her gagged and
blindfolded face. Truth be hold, it was more a
businesslike tap than a slap, but the message had been delivered
and received. Helen removed her jacket and it was
immediately snatched from her hands. She unbuttoned and
removed her blouse and it was also grabbed and
disappeared. She removed her high heel shoes, one at a
time, and then her skirt. Next, she peeled down and
removed her pantyhose. Finally, she unhooked and removed
her bra and pulled down and removed her panties.
"Hold perfectly still," the Asian said, "unless you enjoy pain."
Helen followed the command (as she did not enjoy pain). The doms lifted her
hands, curled her fingers around padded cylinders, zipped what
felt like leather sheaths around her closed fists, then buckled
wide, padded cuffs around her wrists. Helen could tell
each sheath and cuff was a single unit. Suspension
cuffs, she realized. Then, wide padded cuffs were
buckled around her ankles, the doms pulled her feet about a
meter apart, and she heard two metallic clicks.
There was a brief pause, then Helen's encased hands were lifted,
she heard the clinking of chains, and there were two more
Almost immediately Helen heard the whine of an electric motor
overhead, the clinking of more chain, and her hands and arms
were dragged up and to either side. This continued until
she was in a standing, four-point spread-eagle at full
stretch. Her toes and the balls of her feet were her only
contact with the floor and there was no slack in the overhead
The blindfold was unbuckled and pulled away. Helen blinked
in the sudden light, then surveyed her surroundings. "The
Black Chamber" was well named. The floor, ceiling, walls,
and nearly everything in the room were black. The floor
was tiled and the ceiling clad in acoustic panels. Mounted
overhead were compact electric motors, track lights, and
dangling chains, and mounted on the walls and floor were
innumerable eye-bolts and pad-eyes, all in gunmetal gray.
The floor hardware was recessed and covered by black metal caps
flush with the tiles, at least Helen assumed the many
caps set among the tiles concealed hardware. Such was the
case for the two open caps to either side of her feet.
They had concealed the sunken eye-bolts securing the ends of the
short chains linking her ankle-cuffs to the floor.
Against the walls were black metal cabinets and
peg-boards. Dangling from hooks on the peg-boards was an
extensive collection of ball-gags, bit-gags, plug-gags,
head-harnesses, leather and/or steel cuffs and collars, whips,
crops, paddles, floggers, etc., etc.
The doms were behind Helen's back. One was brushing her
hair and the other wielding a comb. Together, they plaited
Helen's brown locks into a single long braid. Helen heard
what was probably a plastic cable-tie secure the end of the
braid—Vrrrip!—then the braid was coiled into a tight bun
and another cable-tie tightened. Vrrrip!
"Now our whips have easy access to your entire back," the Asian
dom purred, obviously for Helen's benefit. She then
addressed her fellow dom. "How many kilos should we hang
from from her nipples and pussy-lips?"
"Mistress said to leave her alone for an hour," the blonde
"Ohhh," the Asian sighed in disappointment
"Mistress didn't explicitly forbid the torture of her
tits and twat," the blonde noted, "but do you want to take the
chance? You know how Mistress can get when she's angry."
"Point taken," the Asian muttered. "There's a hedge fund
manager chained to an X-frame in the Red Chamber. Want to
take it out on him?"
"Either that or an early lunch," the blonde chuckled.
Helen heard their boot heels tap the floor. The door
opened... then closed with a solid thud and Helen was
alone. She settled in to wait for Irena to appear.
The blond dom's statement that she was to be left alone for an
hour may or may not have been a cruel joke, but there was
nothing Helen could do but stand on her toes and hang from her
No clock was in sight—among the many instruments of torture that
might or might not be used to "entertain" her at some point
during the next two days—but Helen had a good sense of time.
Time passed. Helen's feet and calves began to ache, as did
her shoulders and arms, but she used meditation techniques to
put the discomfort aside.
Finally—and Helen's internal clock told her it was something
very close to one hour—the door opened and heels tapped the
tiles. Helen didn't turn her head to see if it was Irena
or one of the doms who had entered. She'd know soon
enough. A figure stepped into view, and the naked,
spreadeagled captive's eyes popped wide in utter
astonishment. "Mrrff?" Standing before her was—
"Hello, Helen," Dana Scully giggled. She was dressed in
heels, skirt, blouse, jacket, and coat, all in various shades of
gray. And yes, she had giggled, and she continued
giggling. Dana's blue-green eyes danced and a dimpled
smirk curled her lips.
An outside observer might think she was drunk or high on some
drug, but Helen knew the truth. She's
enthralled. She's under Irena's control.
"Mistress asked me to drop by and brief her on the aftermath of
the Rupandra Incident," Dana explained. She reached out,
cupped Helen's breasts, and gently squeezed. She then
leaned close and gave each nipple a slow, wet lick. All
the while, her laughing eyes were locked with Helen's and
sparkled with mischief. She began teasing the erect
nubbins with her fingers.
Helen shivered in her bonds. To say the least, this was
totally unexpected. Full points, Irena, she
thought. A masterful jest.
"Mistress planted fun suggestions in the minds of Olivia, Kate,
and Jane," Dana continued. "I've had them under covert
surveillance, and not only did they act upon the suggestions, as
Mistress intended, but they've started playing on their
own! Isn't that wonderful?"
Helen sighed through her gag. Wonderful.
"Don't worry about their careers or reputations," Dana
continued. (She also continued fiddling with
Helen's nipples). "I'm the only one at the Bureau in a
position to put together the pieces, and I'm deleting the
reports as quickly as they come in. Mistress was very
explicit about that point. Isn't she wonderful?"
Dana giggled again, then slid her hands down Helen's body,
through her pubic bush, and began stroking her labia.
Helen shivered in her bonds, again—not that she had stopped
shivering since Dana started playing with her breasts and
nipples. Cheeky monkey, Helen thought. She
couldn't really be angry with Dana. Dana was Irena's
The door opened again, boots tapped, and Dana's puppeteer joined
"Mistress!" Dana squealed, knelt at Irena's feet, and began
kissing the toes of her boots.
"My Irish Rose," Irena sighed. "Wipe your lips and give me
a real kiss."
Dana scrambled to her feet, wiped her mouth on her coat sleeve,
and they embraced and kissed—and it was an enthusiastic, full on
the lips, extended kiss with tongue. Helen could tell from
the way Dana was shivering that Irena was sampling her aura.
The kiss ended and Dana took a step back. Her wide,
worshipful eyes on her Mistress, she continued trembling.
"Did you cum, Dana?" Irena chuckled.
"Yes, Mistress," Dana confessed. "I'm sorry."
"I forgive you, Dana," Irena said. "Now, take off your
clothes, but entertain us in the process. Sing us a song
as you strip."
Dana laughed like a girl as she scampered to the middle of the
chamber. "What song, Mistress?"
"Something light and fun," Irena answered.
Giggling and smiling, Dana thought for a few seconds, then began
swaying from side to side. As she released the buttons of
her coat she began to sing.
"Oops! ... I did it again;
I played with your heart, got lost
in the game;
She shrugged out of the coat and tossed it aside, all the while
dancing and smiling.
"Oh baby, baby
Helen sighed. Britney Spears? Oh, please.
Dana continued her striptease.
"You think I'm in love;
That I'm sent from above;
Dana swung her hips in emphasis.
"I'm not. That.
Irena had stepped behind Helen and unlocked her ball-gag.
She then unbuckled the strap and loosened the buckle to its last
Helen expelled the ball from her mouth. It bounced to her
chest and dangled around her neck like a very ugly
necklace. "Do you have to humiliate Dana like that?" Helen
asked as she licked her lips and worked her jaws.
"My Irish Rose will remember none of this," Irena whispered in
Helen's right ear, then delivered a light kiss and nibbled her
earlobe. "When she returns to Washington in a few hours,
all she'll remember is interviewing a confidential informant
about unrelated matters, and nothing about the many
orgasms she experienced. My Ladies will be nice enough to
launder her panties, so she won't wonder why they've suddenly
become so very pungent."
Helen couldn't help but smile. "You monster," she accused,
then shuddered and gasped as Irena kissed her ear, again.
This time Irena had used her power and waves of pleasure
raced down Helen's spine and rippled through her pussy.
"Monster!" she reiterated.
"Now Helen," Irena chuckled, "you know I'm not a monster.
I simply have a sense of humor honed in the course of a very
long life." Her gloved hands slid down Helen's body and
came to rest on her hips. The skintight gloves were
shielding Helen from most of the effect of Irena's power, but
Helen continued shivering and her skin was beginning to
glow. "The entire House of Pain is soundproof," Irena
continued, "and any clients passing in the hallway will
interpret whatever they hear from inside this chamber to be
business as usual. Feel free to scream when you aren't
gagged." She kissed the side of Helen's neck. "You
should also feel free to scream when you are gagged."
Dana's striptease continued. By this time she was in her
"I'm not. That.
Bra and panties removed, Dana stopped dancing, giggled, and
demurely covered her breasts with her right forearm and her
crotch with her left palm.
"You saucy little flirt," Irena chuckled. "Gather up and
fold your clothes." As Dana followed the order, Irena
stepped to one of the cabinets and opened the doors.
Inside, Helen beheld an array of leather sheaths and
arm-binders. All were black with gunmetal hardware.
"Come here, my Irish Rose," Irena beckoned.
Dana scampered to her Mistress.
Helen watched as Irena pulled Dana's arms behind her back and
zipped, laced, and buckled the naked redhead into an
arm-binder. It was tight enough to nearly press Dana's
elbows together, and wide straps buckled around her wrists and
upper arms. Two narrow straps passed under her armpits,
crossed over her chest, passed over her shoulders, and were
buckled to the top of the binder. A separate body harness
was next. Its straps encircled the arm-binder and Dana's
torso and upper thighs. Finally, leather cuffs were
buckled around her ankles and a collar around her throat.
Irena grabbed yet another tangle of leather straps, another
harness of some sort, then she closed the cabinet. She
hooked a finger through the ring dangling from the front of
Dana's collar. "Come with me," she said, and led Dana
towards Helen. "Show Helen your tattoo," she ordered as
she released the ring.
"Yes, Mistress," Dana giggled, then turned her back to Helen,
looked over her right shoulder, and nodded her chin towards her
Above Dana's right buttock and near her hip Helen beheld the
tattoo of a tiny serpent eating its own tail. "The
Irena nodded. "A powerful symbol." She'd stepped
behind Helen and was buckling the harness around her waist and
upper thighs. "How would you like a tattoo,
Helen?" she inquired, then touched the small of Helen's back—and
the spreadeagled captive gasped in response.
"Perhaps a tramp stamp?" Irena continued, then laughed. "I
know, how about 'Omnium Sanctorum' in a nice, pretty
script font, with a cute little arrow pointing between your butt
Omium Sanctorum—Latin for "Sanctuary For All"—the motto
of the Sanctuary Network. "Very funny," Helen muttered,
but the hint of a smile curled her lips. Irena stepped to
the front and finished buckling the harness. By the narrow
straps still dangling from the waist and thigh belts, Helen
surmised its purpose was to anchor something between her splayed
legs and against her crotch.
"Or," Irena chuckled. "I could shave your bush and put the
tattoo in front with the arrow pointing at your hungry little
pussy. Does that sound better?"
Helen knew Irena was joking (or so she desperately hoped) and
ignored the question.
Irena walked to another cabinet, returned with a black leather
cushion, and dropped it on the floor between Helen's legs.
"Kneel, Dana," she ordered.
"Yes, Mistress," Dana answered, smiled at Helen, and dropped to
her knees on the cushion.
Irena clipped Dana's ankle-cuffs together, then grabbed a gentle
handful of Dana's titian locks and pressed her smiling face
against Helen's crotch. "Stay," she ordered, and began
buckling the dangling straps of Helen's thigh-harness through
the rings in Dana's collar.
"I suppose you think this is very funny," Helen
"Oh, my goodness Helen," Irena laughed, "I think it's hilarious!
Dana only has a few hours 'til she has to be on her way, and I'd
still like to feed upon her a few more times, so take advantage
of this wonderful opportunity for the two of you to bond."
She leaned close and spoke quietly into Dana's left ear, but
loud enough for Helen to hear. "Dana, I want you to make
Helen cum as many times as you can until I return; but you're to
rest now and then, and let Helen rest, as well. I don't
want you to tire yourself or wear out that wiggly pink tongue
before we get a chance to play."
"Yes, Mistress," Dana giggled, and began licking Helen's
labia. Her hair, cheeks, and chin brushed against Helen's
thighs and lower tummy.
Helen shuddered in her bonds. Irena had stepped behind her
and was unbuckling the ball-gag. Her intentions were
clear. "W-wait," Helen stammered as the ball approached
her lips. Dana head was bobbing as she licked her pussy in
"Yes?" Irena purred.
"Rupandra," Helen gasped. "Tell me what happened to
Rupandra after she was taken away. The last I saw she was
still in a coma."
Irena seated the gag in Helen's mouth and and buckled it
tight. "Rupandra is no longer your concern. She is
no longer my concern. She is in the hands of her
Clan. Forget Rupandra."
"Mrrrrf!" Helen was writhing and shivering in her bonds as
Dana continued tonguing her pussy.
"After Dana leaves," Irena whispered in Helen's right ear, "it
will be my Ladies turn to entertain you. They're experts
in all the tools of the trade." She reached around
Helen's spreadeagled body from behind and squeezed her breasts
in her gloved hands before continuing. "Then, tonight and
tomorrow, you are mine, and I'll show you tricks that only a
seventh-cycle Ice Wolf can do."
Helen quaked in her bonds, because of what Dana was doing
between her legs and because of Irena's titillating
hands. She already knew what her "hostess" was capable of
doing with her lips, tongue, and fingers—but it was
alarming (and arousing) to hear that she could do more.
Irena released Helen's breasts and strolled to the door.
She paused in the threshold and smiled at the spectacle of a
spreadeagled Helen Magnus having her pussy licked by a captive
Dana Scully—then closed and locked the door of the Black Chamber
and walked down the hallway towards her office. She had
Ladies to supervise and customers to please.
A dominatrix' work is never done.
|rizzoli & beckett
|& the entire story