Chapter 1
Darcy and I rented apartments in the building because she got such a great deal on them.
We got two bedroom apartments for the price of a one bedroom. At the time, that appeared
to be a great bargain, even though I only used mine for storage.
Even though I didn’t use it I still thought it was a great bargain. At least it was a
great bargain until Darcy got her great idea.
She decided that since I was supposed to be a bondage slave, I should go around my
apartment naked.
“I will not!”
“Not completely naked. I’ll let you wear something.”
I thought she would let me wear a miniskirt, or even panties, but I had failed to take
into account Darcy’s devious planning.
“I bought you a present.”
Darcy’s present turned out to be a ballgag. I owned two already, but this one had
something special.
“Put it on. You don’t have to buckle the ends of the strap together. Just push them
together.”
I did as she ordered. Finding the ends was a little more difficult than buckle-type,
but it was much easier to fasten. I heard a click as the two ends came together.
“These are the keys. If you are a good girl, I’ll take the gag off. Meanwhile, take
your clothes off while I get your new outfit.”
With that, she disappeared out the door of my apartment toward hers.
As soon as she was gone, I tested the lock on the gag strap. The ends disappeared into
a small metal box. I tried to pull the end out, but it would not come. That ball gag was
in my mouth until Darcy decided to take it off.
You may wonder why a young, attractive blonde stood in the living room of her apartment
with her clothes laid neatly across a chair back.
I am a clerk in a detective agency. A woman named Helen Givens hired our agency to
locate her younger sister. They needed someone young to go undercover in search of
Katrina Givens. All clues pointed to some involvement by her in the bondage and
discipline scene. All I was supposed to do was follow the trail of clues to her.
The first lead was a bookstore that specialized in bdsm books, magazines and videos.
That part went well. I met a pair of lesbian bondage enthusiasts whom I convinced of my
sincerity. Several dozen orgasms later I was their best friend. That was where my
problems arose.
The next step was to arrange an interview with a photographer who had an advertisement
hanging in the bookstore. Marissa and Ellen, my superiors in the detective agency,
thought he, or she, had taken our one photograph of Katrina. Every time I tried to get
the information, the two of them would tie me up. My initial repugnance at having another
woman lick my tits while I was bound was overcome in just a few minutes. Maybe I did look
forward to them playing with me but I had a job to do. I could not get them to let me get
to the wall where the telephone number was.
Let me get the number.
Then tie me up in a “69” position and see who can come first.
Those two were only part of my problem. The other was my best friend Darcy. The
detective agency had sent me a box of bondage toys so I could become familiar with them.
Unfortunately, Darcy, whose apartment is across the hall from mine, retrieved the box from
the hall and opened it before I got home.
Now she, and everyone else, thinks I’m into this stuff. That is the impression I’m
trying to generate, but the complications have grown exponentially.
Darcy has gone from being my best friend, to being my very, very, very best friend.
She seems to think that I should show my submission by using my tongue to make her come.
Of course, once she is aroused, she wants to eat me, so it all works out to my advantage.
While this all is an amusing diversion, I still need to press on to follow the trail of
the missing sister.
My latest instructions from my superiors were to wait. That meant I had to stay in the
apartment and let Darcy play with me.
Darcy returned with a small pink shopping bag.
“Put these on,” she said as she handed me a package.
This item was a garter belt. I had several already, but none were as sexy as this was.
The basic material was pink satin, but it had white lace ruffles along the edges in front.
The ruffles ended at my hips, as did the satin. The strap continuing around my back was
pink to match the color of the satin.
I wrapped it about my hips, making the minor adjustments necessary to get it on
properly.
“Now these.”
Sheer black stockings. When I held them up I thought they had a run in them, but when I
shook them out, I saw they had a seam down the back.
Now I can understand a seam back in the days of black-and-white television, but with
modern (or even not so modern) technology, they can make stockings without a seam.
I sat on a chair to get them on. I straightened them out, then stood to smooth them out
further. Adjusting the length of the straps from the garter belt, I secured them in
place.
“Turn around.” Once I did that, she added, “The seams aren’t straight.” Darcy said it
in a tone that told me she was not happy with what I had done. Crap! I would like to see
her do better.
I bent over and twisted my head around, but I could not see what she meant.
“Come in here.”
We squeezed into the bathroom where I had a full-length mirror on the back of the door.
She was right. The seam moved back and forth to the left and right as it rose from my
ankles to the thigh.
“I’m going to leave you alone in here. Don’t come out until they are straight.”
Getting those seams straight took me ten minutes to accomplish. When I finally emerged
from the bathroom, Darcy sat in a living room chair, impatiently drumming her fingertips
on the arm.
“That was too long. You need to be punished.” She rose, half turned to the left and
pointed. “Across the chair back.”
Knowing it was useless to argue with her, I draped my body across the chair back so my
hands were on the chair seat. She intended to spank me, of that I was sure. I was also
sure that it would not hurt too much. The point was the humiliation of the action. I was
allowing my best friend to spank me.
I heard her moving around in my kitchenette. Twisting my head around, I tried to see
what she did, but I only saw her moving about. I saw no detail.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded.
Smack!
I jumped a little. The blow caused some minor pain, but I knew my butt could last
longer than her arm.
Smack!
“Mmmffttt!”
Just to play it safe, I decided to pretend it hurt a lot.
Smack!
“Mmmffttt!”
Smack!
“Mmmffttt!”
She grew tired of this game after half a dozen swats. My ass tingled a little but I was
right – my ass outlasted her arm.
“This spatula is dirty now that I used it on your butt.” She held it down in front of
my face. “Clean it off.”
Cleaning it off meant using my tongue. I started near the handle, making long vertical
strokes. When I reached the edge, she flipped it over so I could lick the back. Without
warning it disappeared from before my face. I heard it bang off a couple items in the
kitchenette before landing on the floor.
“Next item,” she announced.
I was still bent over the chair back but I assumed she had forgotten that. I was not
supposed to move until she ordered me to, but I assumed she had forgotten that. Knowing
full well that I risked another spanking, I straightened up and turned.
She held the next garment against her body. It was a half bra of the same shiny pink
satin of the garter belt. Now, that was one item I saw no point to. My titties would be
visible anyway, so what was the point of a half bra?
She handed it to me so I put it on.
As I put it on, I realized it was a pushup bra. My already large titties were pushed up
and together.
“I guess these girls are locked and loaded,” Darcy said as she stepped closer. She took
one tit in each hand and squeezed gently.
“I guess all we have left are the gloves.”
Gloves?
She returned to the pink shopping bag to get them. They were pink satin so they matched
both the garter belt and the half-bra.
“I guess I have to help you with these.”
They were long, real long. I held my left arm out so she could pull it up. While it
was loose at the opening, it was tight from the forearm down. I doubted I could have
gotten it on by myself.
“I’m helping you this time, but you are going to have to learn to do it yourself.”
I guess I was wrong. I would have to learn how to do it myself.
She got the other glove on me.
It felt strange to wear so many tight items but not to have any modesty at all.
Darcy went to the drawer in the kitchenette where I kept my bondage supplies, returning
in seconds with a pair of handcuffs. Without being told, I turned, putting both hands
behind my back.
Once again I was helplessly bound and gagged. This time I wore an outfit that made
certain that I would not want to be rescued.
I suppose it is every woman’s fantasy to be bound and helpless and have some handsome
prince ride up to rescue her. (Well, it is my fantasy.) With this outfit on, I doubted
he would rescue me. The garter belt, the half-bra, they all screamed: “Ravish me!”
Depending on what the prince looked like, I supposed I still might want to be found
helpless and dressed as I was.
“Go to your bedroom and kneel at the foot of the bed facing the closet.”
I could do nothing but obey. As I entered the bedroom, I was glad I had cleaned it up.
Before I started this undercover work, it was not uncommon for me to go to work in the
morning with dirty clothes all over the floor and the bed unmade. Now, immediately after
breakfast, I popped a ball gag in my mouth as I pretended to be a slave girl. My
apartment was sparkling clean all the time now.
I fell to my knees where she ordered to wait.
She arrived in the bedroom with an armload of items that she dumped on the bed. As
rapidly as she had come, she disappeared out the door again. I twisted my head around to
see what items she had. There were a couple of packages of little things that looked like
they came from a hardware store. There was also a battery-driven drill and an old
screwdriver, one of these with the four little pointy ends on it.
The presence of the tools worried me. I knew Darcy had a tack hammer and that was about
it. (The tack hammer was mine. She had borrowed it months ago and had never returned
it.) I had to wonder where those tools had come from.
She did not have the evil genius to come up with this stuff on her own. I wondered who
was teaching her to do this.
She returned in a couple minutes dragging a kitchen chair. She set it down next to the
closet door. Opening one of the packages, she looked at it for a few seconds before
climbing on the chair with it and the drill. She drilled a few holes in the two doors.
Getting down briefly, she exchanged the drill for the screwdriver and picked up the
screws. In a few minutes, she had the metal thing attached to the doors.
She slid one door open after getting down. I was completely mystified what she was up
to as she walked past me to the dresser. She pulled the bottom drawer out all the way.
With a grunt, she lifted it so she could carry it to the closet. That drawer ended up on
the floor on top my shoes. One-by-one, each of the other three drawers joined it.
Darcy then slid the door shut. Back at the bed, she picked up a padlock. That was the
one thing, beside the tools on the bed I recognized. The padlock went on the metal thingy
she had screwed to the doors.
“There. Your clothes are under lock-and-key. You have to wear what I tell you until I
can trust you to obey.”
There were more hardware things on the bed. She dragged the chair out to hallway. I
twisted my head about to see what she did. She was in the hallway in the vicinity of the
closet where I kept my coat. I heard the drill going again.
I looked down at my bare legs and could see the little line of pubic hair I left after
getting ready to wear a bikini. I was not going out in public dressed this way.
I decided I had better learn to obey real quick.
She returned to my bedroom to get a pillow. Now she had me really mystified. What was
she doing?
“Follow me!”
I got to my feet by leaning against the end of the bed. Pushing up, I made it the rest
of the way to my feet. Despite as many times I had risen with my hands bound or cuffed
behind my back, I still had trouble getting up.
I found Darcy in the living room, waiting for me with hands on hips.
“Kneel on the pillow facing the television.”
I dropped to my knees as she disappeared into the kitchenette. She returned with a
short piece of Venetian blind cord I had left over from an earlier adventure in which
Ellen had had me go to a sleazy motel dressed as a hooker. Kneeling behind me, Darcy tied
my ankles together.
Now she moved around in front of me to inspect her handiwork.
“Spread your legs apart so I can see your pussy.”
I guess there was to be no modesty for me. I inched them apart until she nodded.
“I’m going out for a while. I bought a DVD you can watch while I’m gone. Don’t worry
about it ending before I get back. I have it on continuous play so it will start over
once it hits the end.”
She picked up the universal remote from the stand and moved around behind me. The blue
screen came on the television, followed by the movie, no credits, no introduction, just
the image of a redhead bound with her hands over her head.
She started out wearing a cropped top and a miniskirt, but the woman holding her
prisoner captive quickly removed them. The captive wore a thong, but that provided her
with no modesty as the woman pulled it so it dug into her pussy.
Once she had the captive naked, she got out a whip that she used on her front. The
captive’s front from her thighs to her neck became one continual mass of welts from the
whip.
In the next scene, the woman allowed the captive to eat her from behind. The captive
had her face pressed against the woman’s bottomcheeks. The captive, in scene after scene,
showed the other woman just how submissive she was as she allowed her to use every part of
her body as an object of pleasure.
I found I was watching the movie so intently I did not hear my friend leave.
As Darcy had promised, when the DVD reached the end, it started over again.
The redhead stood helpless bound as the woman approached her. This time I imagined I
was the captive standing there helpless while another woman stripped me naked before
taking a whip to my body.
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