Chapter Three - The Sting
There was no doubt in Katherine Wytt's mind that she was about to leave for the
most important meeting of her career, and quite probably, her life.
She tried not to let that play on her mind as she put the finishing touches on
her eyeliner. Everything had to be perfect. Von Kepp would expect Mistress
Catelyn Barathe on her doorstep at 3pm; not FBI Agent Katherine Wytt. The former
would be welcomed with a polite smile and a tour of the mansion; the latter,
Katherine suspected, would be executed on the spot.
Satisfied that her "face" was the way that Catelyn would have liked, and not
what Katherine would have chosen - the rouge was too dark, the lipstick too
garish, and the eyeliner too pronounced for her taste - the FBI Agent stood to
examine herself in the mirror. The figure that stared back at her was almost
unrecognizable, and not just because of the make-up.
Taking her cue from Von Kepp's attire during the previous weekend's visit,
Katherine had dressed exceptionally formally. Her intention, however, had been
to also achieve an air of sexuality. As a result, she wore a black three-piece
suit that consisted of a knee length skirt, button-up vest, and single-breasted
blazer. Both the vest and the blazer had been tailored to accentuate, rather
than conceal, the swell of her breasts, whilst the skirt was tight enough to
limit Katherine's steps to something approaching a graceful shuffle rather than
a purposeful stride. The long sleeved shirt she had chosen was light blue in
colour and heavily starched so that the collar fitted very snugly around her
throat. A royal-blue silk necktie was tightly knotted against the top of the
collar, and held perfectly in place by a silver tiepin that matched the cuff
links adorning her wrists. The overall effect was completed by a pair of sheer
black stockings and closed-toe Versace skyscraper heels.
While Katherine was forced to admit that while Ralph Lauren had outdone himself,
the look was just not her. She would have been far more comfortable in a Dolce &
Gabanna suit that was less constricting and decidedly more youthful, but knew
that she would never have been able to afford one based on her Bureau salary.
Katherine took a deep breath. All that remained was to step out of "herself" and
become Mistress Catelyn Barathe. She thought of this as something akin to
achieving an altered state of mind, and had perfected the technique in the
eighteen months that she had been living the life of the billionaire slaver.
*A technique, huh?* A little voice whispered. *Are you sure there's not just a
lot of Catelyn in you, Katherine? Are you really, really sure?*
Katherine let out a shaky breath, and squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to
concentrate on the task at hand. She was under no illusions. Her life could
depend on what she was attempting.
*What's there to do? Just be yourself.* The voice chuckled. *Get off on
kidnapped women all tied up and gagged. Imagine what you would do to them if you
had Barathe's money and couldn't be touched by the law. Just like when you're
touching yourse-*
"Shut up!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Please."
"Why? Did I make a noise?"
Catelyn, startled, opened her eyes and spun around to see her superior, Jack
Hyland, standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He was dressed in an ill fitting
suit and loosened tie - testament to the hours he had been putting in this week,
organizing the final mission of Operation Whitedove down to the finest detail.
Now, clearly concerned, he was frowning at her, when all week it had been
Katherine urging *him* to take a rest.
"Are you okay, Kath?"
She nodded in what she hoped was an assuring fashion. "I'm fine, just keying
myself up for this."
Jack moved forward to lay a hand on her shoulder. He smiled reassuringly, the
wrinkles around his eyes and mouth becoming more prominent. "You're the best
agent on the right side of forty I've ever worked with. And today two years of
hard work - three-quarters of it undercover - pays off."
"You sound so sure."
"Why shouldn't I be? You're the best there is, Kath. That's why you were chosen
for this Operation. And it's not just me who thinks so." He smile widening, Jack
leant forward and mock-whispered: "I wasn't going to tell you until we had Von
Kepp in custody, but the Director himself is talking about a promotion for you."
That surprised Katherine. "Really? But I'm only been with the Bureau for ..."
He cut her off. "How does 'Special Agent Wytt' sound to you? Or better yet
'Assistant Director Wytt'? That's what we're ultimately talking about here." He
lifted his hand from her shoulder and stood back. "We all have faith in you,
Katherine. Cathelyn Barathe will be just as convincing today as she has been
every other day of the past eighteen months."
Although still apprehensive, the majority of Katherine's doubts left her then.
Jack was not the type of boss to dangle non-existent carrots before his charges.
And if the Director himself was behind her ...
Even the nagging negative voice had no come back for that.
*****
The plan was actually very simple. Katherine was to ride in Catelyn's limousine
to Von Kepp's estate. She would be driven by a uniformed and bound chauffeur
(Von Kepp would expect nothing less), and "protected" by a male security guard.
The limousine would be followed by a black unmarked van, also driven by a bound
female, and carrying its cargo of three "pieces" for Von Kepp. A second male
security guard would be stationed with the pieces and would be responsible for
ensuring their bonds were perfect before arrival at the Von Kepp estate. Once
inside the fortress-like compound and at the mansion proper, Katherine was to
greet Von Kepp and formally offer her the promised pieces of art. Once Von Kepp
accepted and had taken the women into her custody, Katherine and her guards were
to make their move. All would have weapons - Katherine's would be a small .22
pistol that could be concealed in the inner pocket of her tailored blazer - and
they were to use these to disarm any other personal present and arrest Von Kepp.
Jack Hyland, whilst running the final briefing with the entire on-site team,
assured them they would have the main advantage of surprise, but added that no
back-up team would be on hand to assist them until well after the initial move
was made. He explained that the security system protecting Von Kepp's estate was
second-to-none and would alert the slaver to any incursion before even snipers
could get within range on the forty-acre grounds. Instead, three teams would be
waiting in close but differing locations, and would swoop as soon as the signal
was sent by the van's driver via a simple closed-frequency radio built into the
steering wheel of the automobile.
Katherine had been aware of the difficult practicalities of the assignment, but
the two agents assigned as her protectors were evidently less than thrilled.
"So what you're saying here, Jack, is that we have three armed agents against an
entire estate," said Drake, the bigger of the two men. He was tall and
well-built with a thick bullish neck, but Katherine knew that he was much
quicker of wit than his size would imply.
"I didn't promise this was going to be easy."
"But neither did I hear you say the word 'suicidal' either." Hudson was
impeccably dressed in a expensive Yves St Laurent suit, but Katherine thought
the guy suffered from perpetual "short-man syndrome". He was never happy unless
complaining, and was rarely willing to shoulder any responsibility for mistakes
he made. Katherine was unimpressed by his inclusion in this mission, but could
not deny that his record in the field was exemplary.
Jack sucked in an angry breath. "Look, Hudson, there is no other way to do this
job. It's as simple as that. I've looked at it from every angle. If we give the
other bound agents," Jack gestured to the three women who had volunteered to be
bound into torturous positions and "sold" into slavery, "a weapon, where are
they going to conceal it and how are they going to use it? If we fail to secure
them properly, Von Kepp will see that and the whole operation will be a
failure." Katherine could see Jack's face was beginning to colour and his voice
was getting louder. "So if they're willing to risk their lives while bound and
fucking gagged, why are you bitching about being free with a GUN IN YOUR
HANDS?!"
The entire room was shocked into silence. Even Hudson wisely chose to keep his
mouth shut. Katherine had never heard Jack speak to another agent in such a
manner. Operation Whitedove was clearly having an effect on him as well.
Katherine felt her uneasiness again mounting. If the Agent in charge of the
Operation was feeling the strain, what would that mean when they were on site in
the thick of the moment?
Jack completed taking the last of several deep breaths. "Just trust me on this
everyone. There is no other way to do this." He paused to chew on his lip for a
long moment. "But I suppose we can arm the limousine driver as well - she
probably doesn't need to be bound as stringently."
Katherine looked around frowning. Drake and Hudson were nodding their agreement
but where was the limousine driver? There were four other women in the room -
the three who were to be Catelyn's artworks (one of which was painted from head
to toe a mottled bronze colour beneath her clothing), and another woman who
looked like she worked for a courier company, dressed in a dark-blue jumpsuit.
Katherine knew them all by name, but only Debra Hutchinson, the van driver,
personally. They were still short one agent, and no-one was dressed in the right
uniform of a limousine driver.
"Alright then, let's gear up people. Debra and co, head down to the van for
final positioning. It's 2pm, so you all leave in twenty."
The room emptied swiftly, while Katherine, dressed in her Catelyn Barathe formal
suit, moved to stand alongside her superior.
"Jack, where's my driver? She wasn't here for the briefing."
He nodded. "I know, she's a last minute replacement and was getting suited up. I
spoke to her before the briefing."
"What do you mean a 'last minute replacement'?"
"I mean," he turned to look her in the eye. "That I've asked Ramirez to
volunteer for this one."
Katherine's former confidence was fast eroding. "What? Why? You can't bring
someone new in at this phase of the Operation. She could compromise everything."
"I can and I have. Von Kepp expressed more than a passing interest in Ramirez
last week, and I think she might well catch the Madame's eye so the rest of you
can pull this off. She's another advantage in this situation, and I'm going to
use her." Jack turned away as he shrugged his jacket on. "Now if you'll excuse
me, I have to quickly update Ramirez so we can get this show rolling."
Katherine watched him go without another word, opting instead to grind her teeth
angrily. She would just have to live with Jack's decision, but try as she might,
she could not shake the feeling that Ramirez's inclusion in this phase of the
Operation was decidedly wrong.
She shrugged mentally. There was nothing to be done about it. Instead, she had
to concentrate on the task at hand. Jack's earlier interruption and the
subsequent meeting meant that she still hadn't completed her preparations for
the final phase.
It was time to get into character.
*****
Forty-five minutes later, Mistress Catelyn Barathe sat calmly in the leather
interior of her limousine, watching her chauffeur lean out the driver's window
to speak to the armed guards manning Von Kepp's main gates.
"Mmhfghm mnahygn haghrahhf."
"Very good, slave," said Catelyn for the benefit of the guards who were also
watching her through her own lowered window. "You may leave your window down now
that we have reached the Madame's estate."
It had been a necessity for the Spanish girl to have her tinted window raised
during the thirty minute drive, as passing motorists would otherwise have seen
that she was stringently gagged. Rather than choosing some form of material
packing and a layer of translucent tape to seal the girl's lips together,
Catelyn had opted for an enormous four-and-a-half inch black rubber ball gag in
an attempt to impress her host for the evening. Along with the gag, the girl was
also fettered by a pair of specialty cuffs that attached her wrists to the
steering wheel at approximately the two and ten o'clock positions. She wore the
typical chauffeur's uniform of a black pants suit, button-down white shirt,
contrasting black tie, and peaked cap. Mistress Barathe liked her slaves to be
impeccably uniformed at all times, and her chauffeurs were no exception.
She looked over at her security for the visit. He was seated opposite her,
watching the guards outside the car very carefully. His right hand did not stray
far from the bulge in his suit jacket. Catelyn knew his name but did not trouble
herself to recall it. He was big and intimidating and had always done his job
well, so she had no reason to think he would do anything else today.
*Katherine bit down on the inside of her lip, willing herself to stay in
character. If she lost it now, ii would be the end of her, Ramirez and Drake.
She just had to stay focused and think like a billionaire slaver. It wasn't that
hard. Not really. After all, she had liked to see women bound, gagged and
tormented since she was old enough to have sexual fantasies. This was not so
different. She was just acting out a role, that was all.*
After a phone call was made from the security station, the guards finally waved
them on. Catelyn focused on the pretty tree-filled grounds as they drove onto
the estate. She sipped from an expensive cognac held in her black-gloved hands,
willing herself to relax. At one point, she thought she glimpsed a flash of
white amongst the trees - as if someone had darted out of sight - but then it
was gone again, and she decided it had been no more than a trick of the light.
All too soon, the mansion itself loomed into view. Catelyn was less interested
in the three stories of opulence that confronted her, than with the guard who
waved them off the main driveway and down the side of the mansion's east wing.
Setting aside her drink, Catelyn brushed an imaginary speck of dirt off the
lapel of her blazer, and straightened the already perfect knot of her tie to
ensure that she was presentable. It would simply not do to have her host think
less of her due to sloppy attire.
They drove into a sealed off service bay area. It had entry and exit roller
doors at either end of its one hundred foot length, and was protected from
prying eyes by walls of mortared brick and a tiled roof.
*Katherine immediately assumed something was wrong. She caught Drake's eye, who
gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, indicating that they should
continue as planned. But why then had they been directed down the side of the
house out of view of any possible watchers? An answer immediately came to
Katherine ...*
... and Catelyn smiled appreciatively. Madame Von Kepp did not want anyone
seeing her gifts as they were unpackaged from the van that was even now rolling
to a halt behind them. Even though her estate was well secured, and large enough
that an individual with a telescopic lens could not hope to get a good view of
proceedings from the road, there was little sense in courting disaster. Catelyn
realized she should keep a similar practice in future, and resolved to thank the
Madame for beginning her training before she had even been officially greeted.
When the limousine rolled to a stop, she gestured with a gloved hand and her
guard climbed from the vehicle to hold the door open. She then slid carefully
from the car in time to see white double doors into the mansion opening wide.
Half a dozen suited men walked down a short flight of steps to the level of the
service bay and took up flanking positions on either side of the doorway. Only
then did Madame Elsa Von Kepp emerge from her home, resplendent in a blood red,
ankle length, figure hugging dress that exposed the entirety of her left leg
through its long slit as she stepped forward. Catelyn could see the Madame had
spared no expense in attiring herself for their meeting - from the jewel
encrusted garter belt that held up her sheer silk stockings to the pearl choker
she wore clasped about her throat. In between, she had also donned a diamond
bracelet on each wrist that was spectacularly contrasted against the
shoulder-length black opera gloves which encased her arms. Von Kepp's hair was
drawn back in a severe bun, exposing her bare shoulders and the tops of her
ample breasts, which were barely contained within the bodice of the strapless
dress.
"Mistress Barathe, so good of you to come, and on time as well." Von Kepp smiled
widely. "I do so appreciate punctuality in a guest."
"Madame Von Kepp," Catelyn inclined her head slightly. "It was the least I could
do given the generosity of your invitation."
"Not the least, surely. I believe there was the promise of some of your works of
art being delivered to me today."
"But of course." Catelyn snapped her gloved fingers and the burly security guard
quickly stepped over to the van and opened its rear doors. A moment later a
naked African-American woman appeared, being wheeled along on the type of
trolley normally reserved for moving heavy storage boxes. Her upper arms were
held perpendicular to her body, with the right arm bent upwards at the elbow,
and the left arm similarly bent downwards. At first, it was unclear how she was
bound into this position, but when the guards turned the slave around whilst
lowering her to the floor of the service bay, a darkened metal brace in the form
of a cross extending between her elbows and from head to toe was revealed. The
brace followed the bend of the woman's arms and ended in locking steel cuffs
which held her wrists securely in place. More cuffs positioned her feet while
hinged metal clamps above and below her breasts ensured the slave's torso was
locked against the body of the brace. More specially treated metal obscured the
woman's face in a traditional brank. Effectively a cage that locked around the
victim's head, the brank had been designed in the sixteenth century as a
punishment to silence the wagging tongues of female gossips. The silencing
aspect of the cage - a metal protrusion that ended in a spike tipped ball - was
designed to fit into an unruly female's mouth, ensuring that she could not at
any time speak, nor close her mouth comfortably for fear of puncturing herself
on the spikes. Catelyn, however, had ordered one specially made for this piece
that instead featured a large rubber ball as the oral protrusion, since her
creation was aimed at maintaining silence rather than punishing the slave.
"Madame Von Kepp, I hope you approve of the first of my works." Catelyn glanced
over to see her host nodding slowly, eyes locked on the first of her prizes. "I
call it 'Poetry in Stop-Motion' and hoped you might find some use for it among
your art collection. Alternatively, I've found it can serve wonderfully well as
a hat and coat rack."
Von Kepp laughed lightly. "I'm sure there will be no need for that. It's
wonderful, just wonderful. I can hardly wait to have her adorning my entry hall.
But do show me, what else is hidden away in that van of yours?"
The guards had finished lowering "Poetry in Stop-Motion' to the ground, where
upon a pair of Von Kepp's own security personnel had taken the piece and wheeled
her to one side. The guard who had been riding with Catelyn momentarily
disappeared into the bowels of the van to emerge shuffling backwards, clearly
carrying something heavy. He carefully stepped off the back of the van,
revealing a latex vacuum bed sewn into a huge gold frame that he and his partner
were carrying between them. A plainly naked woman was imprisoned within the
confines of the bed, completely incapable of any movement, such was the degree
to which the smooth material pressed against her. Catelyn could see not only the
swell of her ample breasts, but the rope ringing her wrists that pulled her arms
to the top corners of the frame. The woman's legs were similarly bound and
stretched wide, forcing her body into a well defined 'X'. Catelyn knew that her
mouth had been stuffed with a fistful of cloth before windings of tape had been
wrapped around her head. She was only able to breath only via two black tubes
which had been inserted into her nostrils and poked out through the custom made
breathing-holes in the bed.
"Here we have a modern day piece of art, which, as you can see, could complement
any wall. I call it 'A Portrait in Latex', but would gladly hear any more
suitable names you might have." Catelyn smiled very slightly when Von Kepp waved
away any such idea, clearly too impressed to remove her gaze from the piece.
"The bed has been stapled into a gilded gold frame, so I hope you aren't
planning on releasing the slave any time soon. I can later advise you on the
practicalities involved in keeping the piece nourished and clean - needless to
say needles and catheters are involved - but for now I hope you will accept her
as she is."
"Mistress Catelyn," said Von Kepp after a slight pause. "You are talented in so
many ways I had never imagined."
*You don't know the half of it, sister. But you're soon going to.*
Catelyn forced a humble smile before turning her attention back to the final
piece as it was offloaded by her guards.
"Here we have a piece I completed just this afternoon as a homage to Auguste
Rodin's 'The Thinker'." Like the famous sculpture, Catelyn's piece had been
arranged so that right arm was resting on left bent knee, head slightly lowered
and pressed against a closed fist, second arm draped seemingly comfortably
across her lap. Her skin had also been painted a mottled bronze colour to mimic
that which Rodin's piece had been cast in. The similarities, however, ended
there. Unlike Rodin's piece, Catelyn's effort had been bound into position with
ream upon ream of thin twine. The thin material savagely cut into the slave's
body, severely indenting her flesh and creating something akin to the muscular
definition Rodin's piece had captured so timelessly. All of her limbs and even
her head were bound in position, so that that the slave would be unable to move
after muscular tension and fatigue had begun to take their toll. She was
prevented from voicing her discomfort, Catelyn knew, by the copious amount of
cloth packing jammed into her mouth and the half a dozen strips of medical tape
pressing her lips together. The tape itself, while quite obviously necessary,
had been rendered as unobtrusive as possible by the coating of mottled bronze
paint it had also received. It was the favourite of Catelyn's pieces, and the
one that caused the largest ache of desire to stab through her.
"... something similar I want to show you." Von Kepp was staring at Catelyn
expectantly.
"I'm sorry, Madame." Catelyn decided that an approximation of honesty was the
best policy. "I was busy imagining what you might have in store for these
gifts."
Von Kepp laughed and stepped in closer to Catelyn to lay a gloved hand on her
shoulder. "My dear Catelyn, you'll have every opportunity to see that in due
time. But for now, I was commenting on how similar your last piece is to
something I had commissioned during the week." The hand pressed on Catelyn's
shoulder, turning her around and guiding her toward the entrance to the mansion.
"You simply must see it."
"But the gifts and my employees ..." Catelyn gestured at the ball-gagged woman
who sat in the driver's seat of the van, unable to remove her cuffed hands from
the wheel or free herself from the harness-like belt binding her to the seat.
Now would be a good time to send the signal for back-up, Debra.
"They'll be fine here for just a few minutes." They mounted the small flight of
steps flanked by Von Kepp's guards. "We can conclude our business then. And I
really do insist. You have me convinced you're the undoubted expert in this
field and I've been anticipating your reaction all week long."
They were already inside and walking through a kitchen area. Catelyn glanced
over her shoulder to try and sneak a look at either of her guards, but they were
already out of sight.
The collar of her shirt suddenly felt extraordinarily tight, the knot of her tie
pressing hard against her throat. Something was very wrong. "I uhr - My - my
guards?"
Von Kepp more firmly steered her into a long hall, the guiding hand never
leaving her shoulder. "With your art, Catelyn. Keeping them safe, so have no
fear. We're almost there."
Their pace was quickening and Catelyn - *no, Katherine* - could not quell the
panic building within her. She stammered for a reply, something to make Von Kepp
stop and return her to the service bay, where the deal could go through and they
could draw their guns and make the arrests and end this entire Operation so she
could return to a normal life -
But nothing came to mind. Mistress Catelyn Barathe was gone, and FBI Agent
Katherine Wytt was all that remained. Dressed in a three-piece formal suit, with
a hidden .22, being led along in hostile territory by one of the world's most
notorious and cruel slavers ...
*With a hidden .22.*
Katherine began to reach into the folds of her blazer as Von Kepp all but pushed
her out into the grand entry hall of her mansion. Twin marble staircases swept
up to a second floor landing on either side of a room that was furnished with
the most exquisite of expensive taste. Antiques, portraits and other works of
art lined the walls - all with a bondage and discipline motif - but it was the
piece in the very center that caught Katherine's eye, stayed her hand, and
caused her jaw to drop open in wonder.
For she was looking at a life-sized bronze statue of Holly Bradbury - wide-eyed,
bound, and screaming in terror around a harnessed ball-gag.
Something cold, hard and extremely threatening pressed against the back of
Katherine's head. She tensed, knowing what it was, knowing what it meant, and
accepting there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
Except die.
