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    She was dressed in chains beneath a gauzy transparent dress, chains that crossed her body several times, uplifting her lovely tits and making her ringed nipples stand out proudly, while poking obtrusively through the thin material. The twisted links wrapped her all the way to her ankles, while the tightest chain rode up inside her crotch in a way that had to be confining and uncomfortable. But the long haired beauty – the blonde hair was obviously a wig – didn't seem to mind the discomfort, nor did she care about being exposed to the world this way. Beyond her mask of feathers was a beautiful, though demure smile and a sense of delight. It was even possible to see through the feathers a glimmer of magic in her startling dark eyes.

    "Did you see everyone looking at you?" Perry whispered in her ear.

    "This is so much fun!" Kat giggled, "So many people. It's been so long."

    "For me too. I kinda like it, don't you?"

    "Hum… I suppose so." She walked along with a happy smirk on her lips. Then whispering furtively when they moved off by themselves, "You know, I know these people." Their late entrance had left them breathless and the stir in the ballroom died down as the guests returned to their whips and cowering subs. The scene in the ballroom was all about who could make the grandest exhibition and everyone waited to see who would be next.

    "Do you think any one recognized you?" Perry wondered.

    "How could they when I'm dressed like this?"

    "And what if I were to leave you on your own? Would you reveal who you are?"

    "Disclose my identity? No." His query actually surprised her. "I do my master's bidding tonight. I'm your Marian, you're my Robin Hood." She answered with all the passion of a woman in love, then giggled, giving him a big kiss. "Damn! This is a hoot!"

    In fact, no one in the ballroom gave their identity much consideration. No one would recognize either Perry or Kat. And no one much cared what was going on in the far corner of the ballroom as the thief and his chained female were conversing quietly, their laughter melodious and intimate. Even the suspicious Alain Danvers waved the exhibitionists off at

The midnight hour chimed when Perry suddenly dragged the chained Marion to the center stage. All around them the scenes of debauchery played out, getting raunchier and more sexual by the minute as slaves were forced out of their clothes and left in little but their masks, each readied for some scene of depravity, humiliation or pain that for at least a few minutes would draw the attention of the randy crowd.

    The main stage was for those who were serious about their play and wanted all to watch. It stood just a few feet off the ground floor, but it was centrally located so that many in the room could stop and watch what took place. Energized by the crowd's expectations, Perry boldly tied his chained beauty to the dangling bar with her wrists confined in the thick cuffs, while the rings at her shackled ankles were attached to eyebolts embedded in the stage floor. As the scene played out, the stage would slowly revolve to give everyone a chance to see.

    The music pumped in through the sophisticated sound system was sullen, old world, ethereal – like the dress Maid Marian wore – lifting into the air with such melancholy that the entire room along with Perry's slave, couldn't help but be moved by the dark sounds. "Close your eyes," he whispered, "and keep them closed until I tell you to open them. His hands worked their way along her body, immediately taking her into a subspace heaven with firm swats and hard grasping pinches. He twisted her nipples until she cried out in pain, drawing a few more to their audience who could sense a hard scene about to unfold.

    Finally, with a sharp jerk of his hand, the transparent dress fell away, drifting to the floor like a wisp of fog. Perry's brutality surfaced quickly as he circled his slave, covering her bare flesh with the wicked stings of a braided cat.

    As each lash struck her sensitive skin, she jerked hard and her eerie cries rose above the din around them. Her pain soon redoubled as the beating became more vicious. She thrashed back and forth in agony, twisting miserably in a futile attempt to escape the next blow.

    When Perry finally dropped his cat to the floor, he pulled a small signal whip from his vest, and circled his slave again, letting her wonder when the next strike would land.

    "Look at me," he ordered.

    Though difficult to do, she didn't dare disobey his command, and so held her master in her gaze as he worked his way around her writhing body until she could no longer see him.

    Suddenly, he pulled in close, clutching her from behind. His breath was hot on the back of her neck and she trembled in fear as he wound the whip around her throat. Her head fell back and rested on his shoulder; her breath grew faint, her pheromones skyrocketing higher as she wrestled with her fear of being choked. He pulled tighter, letting her suffer for several struggling moments, then released the whip, allowing her breathe freely again. He gave her no time to recuperate before snapping off his next command in his low, surly voice:

    "Stick out your ass, slave!"

    Those in the front row heard his cocky attitude. Those behind them were content to watch as the show master, Perry, whipped his slave's dancing behind until the flesh was scorched with red marks and she was moaning, so close to begging him to stop that one could almost hear the protest on her lips.

    But then he suddenly moved around again, back to the target he loved the most, letting his whip flail against her dancing pussy with the talons jumping like lightning across her welting skin.

    "C-mon, babe," he quietly urged, "come for me. Let this juicy portal put on a show, hum?"

    The crowd didn't need to see her face to know how she suffered. Even the mask could not hide the strain in her limbs or the sound of her anguish or the way each muscle in her body seized up, shocked by the stinging whip.

    Her pussy hurt. But as the pain became more cutting, more unbearable, her endorphins kicked in. She was lost to everything but the exhilarating feel of that transformed pain and her coming body, and the muscles that flooded with life. She came in hard crashing, bodyjerking spasms, and came and came again. When Perry finally stopped whipping her pussy and stuffed the whip handle in her cunt, she screamed. "Gawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwd, yessss master, yes master, yesssssyesssssyessss," rocking on the leather.

    Her head dropped to her chest when the frantic spasms finally died and for just a moment there was little noise in the grand ballroom except for the sound of that melancholy music dying on the air.

Alain Danvers attention had been momentarily drawn to the scene, with his own raging desires forcing him to pay attention to the ghastly but beautiful beating of the maid. Something about this girl and this man made him look hard at what he could see of their faces – which was very little. But it wasn't their faces that gave them away. The truth suddenly dawned as he stared at the finale of the Robin Hood – the thief – and the chained Maid Marian. Perry and Kat Bloom, it could be no one else. So sure was he that he moved directly to the side of the ballroom into a small alcove, using his cell phone to locate the detectives at all four exit doors…

    He could still see the couple in the last throes of their sizzling scene. The more he stared, the more he was convinced. He could reason it all out later, tie up the loose ends with the clues that had been left behind, for now, the truth was something he felt inside his bones.

While Maid Marion seemed to drift in suspended animation for a long interval of time, it was really just a minute or two and her master was on her again, releasing her from the bondage and tossing her featherweight dress over her body. He picked her up, letting her settle inside his arms, and with not a word to the room, he single-mindedly moved toward the back of the house.

    One word from Alain would have stopped his progress flat. Instead, playing his hunch, he gave the detective their orders:

    "Follow them. I want to know where he takes her. And be careful. He can't know you're on his tail."

    "Got it, boss," he heard the head of his team, Detective Stover, confirm their plans.

    Alain already suspected where the mysterious pair were headed and he had to smile.

Damn! I should have guessed the before… Perry Livingston… Sherwood Hill…
Almost like the man's dropping bread crumbs to his house.

    But why? Why now? Why so many hints?

    Was Perry Livingston so cock sure that no one from his past would be at the Masquerade? He played the thief, Kat Bloom his Maid Marian. And now if Alain were right, they were headed for Sherwood Hill. He remembered the old stable by the ruined house where he, Perry, and a dozen other sexually driven perverts had partied over a long Halloween weekend.

    How like Perry to make poetry of an abduction.

***

"You were magnificent!" Perry exclaimed. He quickly gunned the truck's engine and headed out of town, as if he knew that he was being tailed.

    "Why can't I see now? Why the blindfold? I didn't even try to escape…" Kat wailed miserably. He'd even tied her hands behind her.

    Perry spoke softly. "I don't want the mystery to end yet, doll. There are still a few more hands to be played."

    "What do you mean, a few more hands?"

    "You'll know soon. But not now," he was already antsy to be home. Of course, he hadn't orgasmed and his fiery sexual engines needed a good screw, maybe a dozen before he finally calmed down.

Perry had originally planned to stop along the way and spend the night in a motel, but his restless energy drove them all the way back to the woods that night. The entire four hours were spent with Kat drifting in and out of consciousness, while Perry's eyes were glued to the road, and his mind was intent on stemming the rising tide of his sexual need. He could let it all spill out when they arrived back at the stable.

    When the truck finally jerked to a stop at the end of the dirt drive, Perry lifted his sleeping slave from the seat, feeling her rouse the moment her body hit the cool night air.

    "Where are we?" she wondered, deliriously.

    "Home," he said.

    "Home…" she drifted a little, then was abruptly put back on her bare feet, a leash clipped to her collar. Her hands remained roped behind her and she jerked along, stumbling after her master as he led her into the stable entrance. The old structure was still as rough and rundown as it had been ten years before when Perry first began to renovate the upper floor. Although the warm upstairs and comfortable mattress were waiting for him, he couldn't wait to alleviate his sexual need. He unceremoniously pushed his chained slave over a sawhorse, planted himself behind her, then grabbing her by the hair, he pried her ass cheeks wide. His hard erection had already been freed from the codpiece and the Robin Hood tights, so he could swiftly impale his slave. Plunging deep, he settled in with the wet warmth of Kat's pussy a welcoming relief as it closed in around him.

    The fucking came on furiously hard. Consumed by his own pleasure, he cared nothing about her discomfort as her bare crotch banged against the hard wood bar. The only good news for Kat was that he was coming in under sixty seconds and relief from the pain was in sight. In the minutes following his climax, they both caught their breath.

    Somehow the finale seemed anticlimactic after a night of risk and wonder and daring extremes.

Kat had only to wait a short time before Perry pulled her back upright and dragged her by the leash, leading her up the long flight of stairs to the second floor. Her blindfold had become dislodged at some point during the melee, so she was able to catch a brief glimpse of the stable. Unfortunately, she was so exhausted that she really didn't care.

    "You can sleep in the chains, doll. I'm too tired to take them off," Perry announced when they reached her room.

    She looked around, a bit dazed, but found that nothing had changed in hours since they left for the Masquerade – the cage, the newspapers and the chamber pot in the corner, the mattress on the floor, the stack of magazines nearby. Her world had remained intact, although it seemed strangely different to her now that she'd been in the outside world again. Was it possible to fit back into this harsh, inflexible existence? If she hadn't been so exhausted, her temper might have flared at the very thought of being Perry Livingston's bound captive.

    And sleep in the chains? This wasn't exactly great news, but then, being so bone weary, her comfort didn't seem to matter all that much. One meager push of Perry's hand against her shoulder and she sank into the mattress – it was comfort enough, especially when Perry joined her. Forgetting her disquiet, she huddled inside her master's arms and drifted to sleep. Moments later, he followed her down that drowsy path. They wouldn't awaken until nearly noon.

***

It was morning before Alain heard the report from the detectives who had followed the alleged Perry Livingston and the girl as they left the Fetish Masquerade.

    "We saw him slip a blindfold over her eyes. Then he was gone. Geez, I didn't think he would ever stop. Four fucking hours, excuse me, sir. The man should have been dead tired. I know I am."

    "When you're on an adrenalin high there's a lot you can overcome," Alain tersely replied. "So their trip ended where?"

    "Tiny town north of here. "Quimsby, Quigley, something like that…and you were right, he took a dirt road at the Sherwood Hill sign."

    Alain smiled to himself. "Good work. Go home and sleep. You've done what I need for now."

Scene Eighteen…A Sad Snow White

"So, my friend, what do I do with her now?" Edmund Thorsby was on the phone early, calling Alain Danvers about the woman in his turret bedroom.