Part Five
When first planning her move to the USA, Elsa had insisted on being involved in
every stage of the designing of her new home. From working with an architect on
the initial drafts of the mansion to tweaking the final plans to meet her own
specifications, the entire process had taken almost seven months, and then the
actual construction of the mansion, a further eighteen. In all, two years of
work had gone into making the Von Kepp Estate everything a successful slaver
could wish for.
At times, Elsa had questioned her own judgment, wondering if she should rule out
aspects of the basement floor, or indeed scrap it entirely, as the logistics of
building a hidden floor beneath ground level had proven to be difficult beyond
belief. But now, as she walked through the "Catacombs" (as the floor had come to
be called), Elsa felt a familiar thrill of excitement that she had taken the
time to have everything built so perfectly.
Even as she tried to ignore the newly developed ache of disappointment that she
would soon have to leave it all behind.
As large as any of the other floors of her mansion, the Catacombs consisted of
sixty-five cells, five guard stations, three training rooms, two interrogation
chambers, a central mess hall, an ironworks (complete with smelt), a production
room in which slaves built, assembled and made instruments that would ultimately
be used to tie, train and torture them, and finally, the so-called "Cleanliness
Hall" where slaves showered and saw to their toileting needs. A virtual maze of
passageways connected these various rooms with their differing functions. Elsa
had deliberately included numerous passageways within the maze that apparently
ended in a stone wall, as she knew that these would - and indeed, had - helped
to confuse and disorientate foolish slaves in the midst of an escape attempt.
Some, however, also hid secret doors that only Elsa and a select few of her
staff knew existed. These led to yet more passages of a necessarily smaller
diameter that allowed a visitor to look into many of the cells via carefully
concealed viewing ports.
It was into one of these passages that Elsa led Ramirez. Both had taken the time
to shower and change. Elsa was now garbed in her traditional leather-laden
Mistress-apparel - black leather corset over a white shirt, knee-length leather
skirt, and knee-high stiletto boots. Her golden hair hung freely over shoulders,
framing the pair of black-rimmed spectacles resting on her nose. Ramirez, for
her part, had changed out of the chauffeur uniform and into a tightly boned
midnight blue corset and a matching pair of leather pants. Like Elsa, she wore
knee-high stiletto boots - although hers were visible only to the ankle - but
had also donned a pair of shoulder-length leather opera gloves. Elsa smiled at
that, knowing that her charge had chosen the accessory purely to please her. The
German slaver had long had a penchant for gloves, as well as any other formal
type of clothing, such as suits, ties and uniforms.
Pressing a hidden notch low down on the wall, Elsa quickly stepped back as a
large portion of it swung towards her on silent hinges. Both women had to stoop
within the confines of the passage, but it did not take them long to reach their
intended viewing point and to sit on the two-seater leather couch they found
there.
Elsa reminded her charge to be quiet by raising a finger to her lips. She did
not want the slave within to know she was being watched, and normal speaking
voices would likely carry through the wall, particularly in the relative quiet
of the Catacombs. A push of a small button caused a panel in the wall to open,
revealing a seventeen-inch monitor. Triggered automatically, the screen
flickered to life, and provided the two seated women with a high angled view of
the cell's occupant.
Elsa knew what to expect, since she had ordered Debra Hutchinson bound into her
current position, but she always found it fascinating to see how a recently
acquired slave adapted to her new situation. As such, she gave the screen her
undivided attention, knowing that Ramirez would be doing the same.
Debra had not only been stripped of her delivery uniform the moment she was
removed from the van, but at Elsa's command, had been deprived of her functional
white bra and panty set. She was still naked now, the ropes binding her body the
only mockery of clothing that Elsa allowed her. The FBI Agent was bent forward
in a severe strappado - arms stretched high behind her, hands bound
palm-to-palm, elbows callously rigged so that they rubbed against one another.
Black nylon rope had been used to bind her. It all but engulfed the upper half
of her body in a torso harness that squeezed her small breasts into unnatural
balloon shapes. Thankfully, the picture on the screen was in colour, so Elsa had
no difficulty discerning the purplish tinge that marred them. The discolouration
meant the bondage was tight enough to be causing the slave an appropriate level
of discomfort for this initial stage of her training. Likewise, the crotch-rope
wrapped around her stomach was also tied extremely tightly, as evidenced by the
manner in which it disappeared between the slave's legs at the very top of her
pubic mound. More rope was wrapped and cinched above and below her knees, as
well as around and between her crossed ankles, rendering her long legs immobile.
Such was the severity of the strappado that she was actually balancing on the
balls of her feet. Watching carefully, Elsa could see the tremble in the Agent's
calf muscles that betrayed the strain she was under. All her effort would
currently be focused on maintaining her balance, because if she fell, she would
likely dislocate both her shoulders - a fact that Elsa had made sure was
explained as the new slave was rigged into position.
She was, of course, also gagged. Elsa insisted that all of her slaves be gagged
twenty-four hours a day, with the only exception being meal times. During the
removal of her clothing, Debra's simple ball-gag had been removed, prompting a
short chorus of tear-infused "But I sent the signal! They should be here!" type
pleadings before one of the guards had hand-gagged the noisy bitch. As
punishment, Elsa had insisted the gag should not only render the slave mute, but
also be of significant discomfort. She saw now that her guards had followed her
order reasonably well. Debra's mouth was held wide open by a dentist's jaw
brace, and packed full of a huge amount of cloth wadding. With little regard for
how it would affect her shoulder-length brown hair, tape was wrapped around and
around her head, between the jaw brace, to ensure that none of the cloth packing
could be expelled from her oral cavity. Elsa knew that breathing would be more
than a chore whilst gagged in such a manner, especially when considering how she
was bent over and trying to hold her balance.
Ramriez interrupted her intense scrutiny of the transmitted image by leaning
over to whisper in her ear. "Are those black dots actually little clips?" Elsa
smiled and nodded. Her charge was correctly referring to the score of tiny black
dots that seemingly randomly marred the Agent's naked body. In fact, each clip
had been carefully placed on those body parts that contained a large number of
pain receptors. The breasts, nipples, labia and clitoris were obvious choices;
while the upper lip, ear-lobes, and under-arms were lesser known but equally
effective targets.
Ramirez turned to Elsa, eyes glinting. "I like those." She slid sideways on the
seat, closing the gap between them. Elsa welcomed Ramirez's kiss, opening her
mouth to accept the younger woman's tongue, moaning when she felt the gloved
hand slide between her shirt and corset to cup and rub her left breast. Ramirez
was always the one who had difficulty controlling herself when confronted with a
tied and tormented woman. Elsa prided herself on being somewhat more
professional, but nevertheless enjoyed her young lover's heated reactions.
Their embrace lasted a full five minutes before Elsa gently disengaged herself.
Breathing hard, she re-adjusted her skirt so that it again covered her upper
legs. Ramirez, a sultry but disappointed expression on her face, put her wet
fingers to her lips and licked the tarnished gloves clean. Elsa closed her eyes
and took a deep breath, resisting the temptation to allow Ramirez to finish her
off, and mentally promising to have the Spanish girl bound and ring-gagged
between her legs before the end of the day.
"We still have more to see, young lady, so from this point forth you will keep
your hands and tongue to yourself." Elsa spoke quietly but sternly, before
softening her harsh words with a playful smile. "We'll continue that part of
proceedings later."
"Will I be punished, Madame? Or will I be the one punishing you?"
She briefly considered the second proposition. Although she spent the vast
majority of her life as a Dominant - over slaves, employees and business
associates alike - Elsa occasionally permitted Ramirez to bind and torment her
in both erotic and painful ways. These experiences helped her determine exactly
what worked on a slave in need of punishment, as well as provided her with an
outlet for certain submissive desires that would sometimes well within her.
Tonight however was not one of those nights. She was still high from the success
of capturing the FBI Agents. "Most definitely the former. But not before I show
you your former ranking agent."
The two women crouched to take their leave. Elsa paused only to close the
viewing portal and then led the way deeper into the Catacombs.
*****
Assistant Director Jack Hyland flung his mobile across the room. It smashed into
the wall with a dull thump, splintering into several pieces. The noise was
enough to cause his assistant, Susan Aletta, to knock tentatively at the door.
"Jack? Are you all right in there?"
He gritted his teeth for a few moments, hands clenched into fists, cheeks a
darkening red.
"Jack?"
"I'm fine, Susan. Everything's fine."
"Can I come in?"
Jack relaxed his hands, and made a decision that it would be better to tell
Susan at this early stage than to wait until later. "Sure," he called and the
door to the office immediately opened.
Susan stepped in, a concerned frown on her face. She was short and lithe with
dark red hair cut into a bob. Her features were a little too angular for his
taste, but that hadn't stopped their dalliance from becoming Operation
Whitedove's worst-kept secret. She was only thirty-two and, he suspected,
intent upon advancing well beyond her current position. He, on the other hand,
well ... he was weak in ways that he should not have been.
"What happened?" she asked.
Jack nodded at the remnants of his phone. "I just got off the line with the
Director. He was less than happy about my apparent 'mishandling' of Whitedove."
She perched herself on the edge of his desk, the hem of her gray skirt sliding
ever so slightly up her thigh. Jack tried not to look, but caught a glimpse of
white suspender holding up tan stockings. He liked the way she dressed - always
smartly in a dark suit with a lighter coloured shirt. The suits generally
consisted of a skirt of shorter than knee length, and she'd always made sure to
wear stockings ever since he post-coitally commented how much he enjoyed seeing
her in them. Today was obviously no exception.
"But it wasn't your fault! A clear signal never came through. Didn't Monroe and
the others back you up?"
"Of course they did." Jack ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Apparently,
however, that wasn't good enough." He sighed, consciously expelling a
significant proportion of his anger. "I was responsible for this Operation,
Susan. Had it all gone to plan, I would have been standing right alongside
Katherine receiving all the accolades. As it is, I'm the only one here to take
the blame."
Susan stood and moved around his desk to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "You
can't blame yourself for Katherine or any of the others, Jack. They're all
trained agents and they were all aware of the risk they were taking. You didn't
force any of them."
"Didn't I?" Jack looked up at his assistant ruefully. "You missed the final
briefing before the mission. I practically pulled rank over Hudson to shut him
up. And now he's probably dead."
Susan took a step closer to cup his face in her hands. "You don't know that.
They could very well be alive in Von Kepp's mansion. We just have to get to
them."
Jack heard the implied question. "Twenty-four hours from now four tactical teams
will storm the Von Kepp estate. Their orders will be to rescue any captives,
grab Von Kepp and put down anyone else who gets in their way."
"Why so long?"
"Because of the high probability of captive loss. The Director has decided that
any opportunity to negotiate with Von Kepp is preferable to a tactical assault.
So for the moment more observation teams are moving into place around the
estate."
Susan frowned. "Based on what you've told me, I don't think Von Kepp will
negotiate."
"That's what I tried to tell out illustrious leader, but he wasn't listening. In
fact, I've been pulled from the Operation."
"You're kidding?"
Jack solemnly shook his head. "I wish I was. I'm on the midnight flight to
Washington tonight."
"Jesus, I'm so sorry, Jack. Almost two years on an Op and then ..." She trailed
off, evidently unsure how to continue.
"Look it doesn't matter. As long as ..."
"Yes it does!" He couldn't tell whether she was upset for him or because her
chances for advancement had just suffered a major blow. "That bastard shouldn't
be able to just end things like this! He wasn't here, he doesn't know how it all
played out."
Jack stood and put his arms around. She wasn't crying, not quite, but he still
felt strange to suddenly be playing the role of comforter.
She pulled away slightly to look up at his face. "Will I be coming with you?"
"No, you're to stay and assist Monroe. He'll be taking over the Op."
He thought the tears were going to flow then. Instead, Susan made a visible
effort to compose herself. "We will see each other again, won't we?"
"Of course," he lied smoothly.
"Good, then this will just be a temporary goodbye gift." Susan stepped back and
slid her skirt up around her waist. Jack swallowed hard when she saw she was
indeed wearing a white suspender belt, but no underwear. "So how about bending
me over your desk and giving me a proper goodbye? I think it'll make us both
feel a little better, don't you?"
Jack managed a nod in answer to her seductive smile. Susan turned, exposing her
well rounded ass. Jack moved forward to cup her cheeks and rub himself slowly
against her. He was just about to reach around for her breasts when she looked
over her shoulder at him.
"Have you got your cuffs?"
He managed a nod.
"Good," Susan said, linking her hands behind her back. "Use them."
*****
Katherine hurt.
Bound as she was, she could accept that. After all, Von Kepp had essentially
ordered the men who re-bound her to make her as uncomfortable as possible. And
that was exactly what they had done after dragging her down to this cold dungeon
cell.
No, hurting wasn't the problem.
The fact that a significant part of her was enjoying the torment was of much
greater concern.
Katherine was perched upon a thin wooden plank mockingly called a "horse" in
slaver circles. She had been forced to sit with one leg dangling to either side
of the plank so that it bisected her sex perfectly to painfully crush against
her clitoris. Each ankle was drawn back and up and bound to a ringlet bolted
into the underside of the horse. This ensured that Katherine was incapable of
shifting herself into a more tolerable position - especially since her wrists
were tightly wrapped and cinched with rope behind her. Even then, she thought
she might have been able to eventually wriggle her hands free, but for the facts
that her elbows were crushed together and her arms welded to her torso by a
complex harness that ran over, under and between her breasts, squeezing them
into unnatural pointed shapes.
She was now completely naked and covered in a thin film of sweat. Her stockings
and suspenders had been cut from her immediately after Hudson and Drake had been
murdered.
Katherine squeezed her eyes shut, saying a silent prayer for the two fallen men.
She refused to let herself think about Ramirez and her betrayal, as doing so
only made her angry. Very angry. So angry, in fact, that she had already
hyperventilated twice - a result that Katherine would not recommended to anyone
whose mouth was packed full with cloth, sealed shut with tape, and completely
covered by windings of a thick elastic bandage. On both occasions she had
coughed herself into spasmodic fits, and during the second she had actually
thought she was going to suffocate. Fortunately, the massive wad in her mouth
had shifted slightly as she thrashed about in her bonds, and she had been able
to draw in just enough air to calm her exasperated system.
Chillingly, at no stage had anyone appeared to help her.
Which was why Katherine could not understand how any part of her could be taking
pleasure from her current predicament. Not only was she bound, gagged and being
tortured in a dungeon cell, at the mercy of a notoriously sadistic slaver who
had murdered two of her fellow Agents, but it seemed that no-one cared if she
lived or died and that she would be left down here to rot.
And yet, the wooden horse between her legs which was causing her so much pain,
was wet with more than just sweat.
Almost on cue, Katherine heard movement outside the heavy cell door. A moment
later it hissed open on hydraulic hinges, the computer lock having been
disengaged by the correct key code required for access.
Von Kepp entered first, dressed in a classic dominatrix uniform. But it was
Ramirez's appearance that caused Katherine to snarl into her gag and begin
struggling madly.
"Now Agent Wytt," said Von Kepp disapprovingly, "is there really any need for
such ridiculous behaviour? You are not squirming free anytime soon, and neither
of us is going to release you simply because you're struggling."
Katherine continued to fight, whipping her torso from left to right. She tried
to rip her arms apart; attempted to pull her ankles free. She grunted, yelled
and then screamed into her gag, not caring that she was out of breath and tears
were streaming down her cheeks. Pain and frustration - both physical and sexual
- had given way to rage at the sight of the woman who had betrayed her and four
others into slavery, as well as two men to their deaths.
Finally, however, Katherine exhausted herself and slumped in her bonds. Her
breath came in short, sharp gasps through her nose, but this time she at least
managed to stop herself from hyperventilating.
Von Kepp sniffed disdainfully. "I must say, Wytt, it was very unbecoming to see
you fighting in that manner. Restraints, gags and torment are to be your
constant companions from this point forth. The sooner you accept that, the
better off your life will be."
Katherine ignored the slaver, instead focusing her attention on her betrayer.
She was clad in a tight corset, leather pants and long gloves, and seemed
completely comfortable in her surroundings. But it was only when Ramirez noticed
her glare and met it with a small mocking smile that Katherine swore she would
one day have her revenge on the woman. Complete with ropes, gag and a long
leather bullwhip.
"When do I get to have her, Madame?"
Von Kepp frowned at the younger woman. "I've already told you, Wytt here is
being saved for her buyer. By special request."
Katherine felt an icy chill run through her at the mention of "her buyer".
"Ohhh but Madame, surely a half hour with her won't hurt." Ramirez pouted. "I
promise not to leave any marks."
"I said no, and I meant it! Any further complaint, my dear, will result in you
perched on this horse with Wytt for the remainder of the night."
Katherine silently cursed. She'd been hoping the women would change her position
before they took their leave. But now it seemed she was destined to be in
howling agony before she was again permitted to stand. The horse was already a
torment beyond description, so Katherine was under no illusions as to what
another six to eight hours with her clit crushed against a wooden ridge would do
to her.
Ramirez frowned unhappily and folded her gloved arms, but said no more.
Evidently satisfied that she had made her point, Von Kepp strode over to stand
alongside Katherine. The slaver grabbed her by the chin and tilted her head
until they were looking each other in the eye.
"We only have another twenty-four hours in this country, but we have an
interesting morning activity planned for you. I think you'll enjoy it ...
Actually, you're going to hate it.. But I'm going to enjoy it, and given that
your only purpose now is to pleasure others, you should be happy with that." Her
chin was released, allowing Katherine to pull away angrily. Von Kepp only
laughed. "By the time we box you up for transportation, Wytt, all that excess
energy will be spent. I promise you!"
Von Kepp turned on her stiletto heels and gestured for Ramirez to follow. The
younger woman nodded, but the moment Von Kepp was past, spun to point at herself
and then at Katherine.
The message was clear, and one that Katherine knew was meant as a threat.
You're mine!
