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Alain was the first to speak afterwards. "I should string you up and beat you senseless."

"Was I that bad?"

"No, you were very good as usual, but I have to keep you on your toes."

    "Is that so? Well, that kind of ramped up display on your part, Detective Danvers, makes me think that you were dwelling on your adorable Miss Shaw. Am I right?"

    He laughed. Not answering directly was enough of an answer for Janis.

    Yes, the girl was in his mind, the little temptress taking up lodging in a way that was growing increasingly distressing to his peace of mind. "If you think she's so delectable, my dear, why don't
you
take her in hand? There's been a dom bitch lurking in you for as long as I've known you."

    "Oh, I'm a bitch now?" she griped.

    "A sexy one," he answered drolly.

    "I'm surprised you keep me around."

    He turned in bed and smiled tenderly, combing her hair from her face. "I'm surprised you keep coming back."

S
CENE
S
IX

"Hey, doll, how about this!" he strode into the room this time, rather than sneak his way inside like a clever thief.

    Kat raised her head. "How about what?"

    "These?"

    "These what? Am I supposed to see beyond this blasted blindfold?"

    "Ah. Too bad."

    "Why not let me see you?" she wondered aloud. "I mean if you are all powerful. If the long arm of the law can't touch you, if you have truly spirited me away and I cannot escape, then why can't I see your face?" She stopped, considering her last comment. "Or are you too repugnant to look at?"

    "My, you are chatty this morning." If she could be so flippant, then she was becoming more accustomed to her captivity. A good thing.

    "I'm asking real questions, sir. I think I deserve a few answers."

    "You deserve nothing but what I choose to give you," his voice darkened immeasurably. He unlocked the cage and released her hands and feet. "Off to the papers to pee. You behave yourself, you'll get something to eat."

    Her stomach was growling. She had no idea how many days she'd been in captivity. But she knew exactly how many meals she'd eaten: six, if you count the single plum she ate that first day. Her other meals were more than a single plum but small, although she believed he was adding supplements to the milkshakes he gave her. The only time of day she was hungry was just after she awakened, and by then she was ravenous. Was it morning? Possibly. But there was no way to tell. Hours drifted into hours; her time alone seemed endless. Too many empty minutes made her crazy.

    When her captor was with her, the tests continued; there was no end to the perverse acts he demanded, or her increasing willingness to acquiesce without a fight.

    She ate from the floor…not from a plate or a bowl, but scraps he scraped to the hardwood and demanded she eat. She would be forced to lick the floor clean once she finished. On several occasions, she was hog-tied, suspended above the floor and teased, her pussy splayed and tortured with whips and clamps and things that dangled so heavily that they seemed to draw her aching labia to the floor. She drifted into subspace at least twice in the middle of the torture, but had yet to experience an honest orgasm. For what seemed like hours on end, her body had no rest from the stimulation, and no satisfaction. Then for hours, there was nothing but the intense, blind, loneliness of the wire cage. She treasured her one blanket as if she were a child again, bonding with the only something that could give her comfort in the middle of a long and uneasy night.

    The blindfold stayed, no matter how much she ranted at her captor to remove it. He took to caning her if she mentioned it too often. This was not your ordinary blindfold. Although fabric-covered and reasonably comfortable, it was more like a formfitting mask than a standard blindfold and it seemed to lock in back, although she couldn't say for sure since she was never allowed to touch it. Overtime, its unrelenting presence had become oppressive. Her hands were only free when her captor was in the room with her. And the one time she attempted to shove the blindfold off her face, he caught her, stopped her, bound her hands behind her back again and made her belly crawl around the room while he whipped her until she understood the price she'd pay for violating this key rule.

    He had a way of making his wishes stick; the duration of the pain was more than she could bear. She refused to try that stunt again and instead, tried to plead her case – which didn't get her much better treatment. Thus, even when it might have been possible to remove the blindfold, she didn't try. She learned instead to move with ease about the almost empty room, as if guided by a sixth sense.

    Returning now from the papers on which she peed, she stopped no less than three feet from the man and waited like an obedient dog for her next command.

    "Here, hold them in your hands." She felt something dangling before her and reached up, although on first touching the object, her fingers immediately recoiled as if she'd just touched hot coals. It wasn't heat she felt, but the cold chill of metal. "C'mon, take them," he urged. She reached out again and felt the weight of iron shackles make her cupped hands sink to the floor.

    "What—?" she looked up in wonder.

    "Pick 'em up, feel them. I want to know what you think." This time lifting the heavy weight, her grasp didn't weaken and she quickly identified the objects.

    "Shackles," he confirmed.

    The fact was obvious, and her hands grew hot as the truth dawned on her beleaguered mind.

    "Two pairs." She could hear the familiar note of triumph in his voice. "Smell them. Put them to your nose and smell them."

    The raw, cold, untainted smells of steel and new leather seeped through her body like an insidious aphrodisiac. To be so peculiarly aroused, when her initial impression was complete revulsion, seemed very odd.

    "What are you going to do?" she asked, in a voice so soft it almost seemed as if she was in a trance. With her hands continuing their journey over the thick shackles, her body heat was rising fast.

    "What do you think?" He was suddenly on her, clamping her wrists inside the cuffs and following with her ankles. He then connected one wrist to another with a connecting chain, one ankle to the other with another heavy chain. Once he finished, she sat back, kneeling as before, realizing only then what the heavy weight of the cuffs would require of her when she tried to move.

    "You are lovely?" he stood above her and walked around. She could see his smile in her mind's eye, the same gloating smile that appeared tauntingly in her dreams. "You're so damn pretty. About the sexiest slave I've ever owned."

    He'd never referred to her that way, and she immediately blanched, angrily blurting out, "You
don't
own me!"

    He laughed again, mocking her petulant outburst with a fresh dose of scorn.

    "Please, won't you please stop!"

    "Stop what? Admiring my prize? Keeping you bound? Teasing the desire from your hungry body? What should I stop doing?" His mocking voice seemed to leap out and grab her by the throat. "Which of my foul passions would you have me put on hold?"

    "Oh, you will be found…" she fumed.

    "And that is where you're wrong. I fly way under the radar, Kat. No one will ever find you, unless I want them to. Now kneel up pretty for me, so I can see your tits and cunt and that pretty ass." He rapped her behind with the cane several times until she responded by lifting herself to her knees. "Now hands behind your head, elbows real wide. Don't want anything hidden, do we now?"

    To achieve the position, she had to lift the heavy chain over her head, where it dangled between her shoulder blades, the wrist cuffs clashing as she tried to weave her fingers together at her neck.

    She got it right; he knew she would. After so many days deprived of a normal existence and normal occupations, he could trust her now to wage almost no significant protest.

    "Nice, very nice." He was circling her again, this time making an unknown clicking sound that took some moments to identify.

    The realization finally hit her hard, "No! You're not taking my picture!" She collapsed to the floor in a defiant heap. Thoughts of her image posted to kinky websites immediately flashed through her mind, providing the terrifying continuation of an already loathsome nightmare.

    "But I am taking your picture and I will a thousand times if I like. You're mine, lock, stock and barrel, Kat Bloom." Did she hear the same mocking chuckle in his voice that accompanied their every conversation? She didn't have to actually hear it anymore, she could feel it rattle her bones. "Now, get those pretty tits back up so I can see them, unless…" he punctuated the command with a sharp stinging cut of the cane on her exposed thigh. She immediately struggled back into place with the heavy shackles clattering against the floor.

    Tears streamed from her eyes as he clicked off shot after shot until he'd entirely circled her shackled body. Then he paused long enough to say, "On your hands and knees," before beginning another trip.

    Pulling the chain back over her head, she leaned forward on her hands as if she was about to crawl, then as motionless as a creeping cat, listened to him photograph every nuance of her naked and shivering body.

    The next command he punctuated with a hard swat of his nimble cane. "Shoulders to the floor, doll, and keep that pretty ass end high?"

    She practically lunged into the position, her chest falling to the hardwood, her legs almost buckling, they felt so weakened from the weight. She righted herself into the ordered pose and waited once again in humiliating silence as her captor made the rounds with his camera, shooting emotional darts at her fractured psyche every time he clicked off another snapshot.

    "One more time, Kat. This time, something humble. Sit on your bottom and bend your knees…" he waited for her to obey… "Now draw your feet into your ass and put your arms around your knees and bow your head. That's right, let that inner sub shine through."

    His voice snapped the way the cane snapped against her thigh, then for the fourth time, the camera's lens recorded her surrendering pose. The fetal position was easier than the rest had been, allowing her to draw her energy inside. Although her mind wildly speculated on who would see these demeaning pictures of her shackled confinement, she realized that behind her revulsion was the teaming energy of sexual arousal.
This can't be happening…this
can't be happening…this can't be happening…

    "Now on your feet, slut!" His voice roared out this time as loud as she'd ever heard it – at the same instant her body felt the searing heat of the leather quirt lashing out across her back.

    Once on her feet, her shackled wrists where drawn above her head with the connecting chain attaching to a hook dangling from the ceiling. She knew what came next, to what vicious lows his sadistic aims could sink. And when he started with a whip he began with a teasing glance off the side of her hip, letting the eroticism build, then with increasing fervor snapped the tasseled tail against her thigh, her belly, her back and ass and thighs, until her moaning whimpers evolved into throaty screams.

    Pain rained down in fiery torrents, so that she almost forgot where she was and whom she was with. She imagined herself at the X-Club, with any number of dominant men at the reins, wielding punishing blows to tease and hurt.

    When the blows stopped, her body continued its angry gyrations despite the lack of stimulation.

    "So, what is it you want, doll?"

    He was close. She could smell his breath and feel the movement of the air on her agitated skin. She could almost taste his pungent masculinity and desire him. If only for a moment he would let her understand what was behind the mocking voice and sadistic threats, if he would only let her touch his skin, she might balk less…she might.

    He touched her instead, his fingertips taking a delicate journey over her heated skin.

    "Oh dear god!" It became impossible not to moan.

    "You want to come?"

    "Yes, of course, please, I want to come, sir." Anger and need festered equally inside her, so she tried not to plead too hard, or let her fuming irritation show; her master didn't like emotional theatrics attempting to undermine his resolve.

    "You know, sluts like you in subspace heaven can't be picky about who gives them pleasure. Kiss me like you mean it, doll. Persuade me. Plead your case."

    His mouth moved in close but not close enough. She had to strain forward to touch his lips with hers. "God yes, I want you!" she said when he deliberately backed off.