by H. A. Kotys
Red. That was who had gone too far and brought it all crashing down, not her. Her only mistake had been in not slapping the shallow, sycophantic woman back in to place. Still, the fact she was here and could be useful was one card, and the sounds of appreciation told her she had another.
They were cold but she could melt them; they were finally showing that they were human after all. The flash of a smile, the twinkle of an eye, the mischief of a wink - they always caved in the end. ‘Resistance is futile,’ Raven’s inner voice lightly echoed a TV series she had once seen, only part-joking, as she narrowed her eyes suggestively, purely to highlight her enjoyment of her own display.
Luxuriating in the effect she knew she had, Raven swirled her hips once again, adding an extra sway to emphasise the symphony that was her seduction as she silently performed to the percussive pulse of her heartbeat.
A sudden tightness on her throat though exploded all thought. A spirit buoyed was sudden punctured. The grip on her throat tightened. Raven’s eyes shot open. The sneering face of Alexei. His arm flexed, gripping her tighter, cutting off her air, asserting a control he felt driven to reapply.
Raven’s eyes bulged. This wasn’t how it should be. He should be slipping under her spell. She had heard the tell-tale sounds. He had moaned. She had started to slither under his skin. But when a moan now came again, she realised it was from behind her and was soon followed by the snap of a skilfully-aimed slap and a female reprimand, “Fucking men, all the same.”
If she could have turned her head, Raven would have seen the large man known as Yuri stagger from the blow delivered by the small woman, banishing his hand from his crotch.
By now though, Raven had other concerns. Alexei’s grip was iron and had cut off her airway. “Yankee whore, you strip for Natalia when told,” spat Alexei, grabbing Raven’s exquisite bra then tearing it away from her roughly, exposing perfectly proportioned but sunburnt breasts.
Raven had never felt so naked. The tearing away of her bra also tore away the thin veneer of positivity that had skinned over her negative hell. With the collar biting ever deeper into her neck it was all she could do to struggle for each single, sustaining breath.
It wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be this way. She was Raven; devastating, dominant, desirable, but when her thin white panties were rented off too, the brief resurrection of Raven skulked away and she realised she had been wrong. So wrong.
The immaculate white garter belt quickly yielded to the yank of Alexei’s strong hand and when his stubby, teeth-bitten nails dug into her thigh to start to rip her flawless silk stockings to shreds, the vulnerability of her position spun Raven back to dark, solitary times, times when she did no more than survive.
Hope had flickered and how roughly that was being torn from her now. It was too much to bear. Raven couldn’t help herself as her hastily thrown up defences were resoundingly breached and pummelled flat.
Her chest heaved, releasing the first of a torrent of sobs before she did the only thing that she could think of. “Please Master, please, it was only to please you, please…!”
Alexei relaxed his grip and Raven gasped a breath.
CHAPTER XX – Colours
Laid bare in body but even more completely in soul, Raven stood in nothing but the ornate platform heels and the torn stockings that draped in tatters over the metal bands that she herself had sealed around her ankles.
Normally she would have basked in being the centre of attention, but not here, not this way. The spotlight on her now wasn’t the unabridged adulation her body usually garnered. Sure there was lust, there was always that but this time, in this place, that lust was not for her to use as it would normally be.
It wasn’t cold, wasn’t even approaching it but Raven still shivered. More so than her nudity, it was that feeling of utter powerlessness that chilled Raven to her core and yet a flush of red on her cheeks spoke a thousand words while she struggled to swallow in air.
“Alexei! Put her down,” shot Natalia, deliberately in English just to make him think. Those snapped words dissected the red mist that controlled him, a mist that had compelled him to again close his hand around Raven’s neck.
With a grunt, Alexei pushed the woman away from him, eyes sampling her momentarily before he spun and stalked back to sink heavily into his antique chair, causing the scraggly-haired woman by the steps to press herself further away.
“Shoes off, sweetie, shoes off” came the instruction, in a tone that belied the fact that the woman was asking Raven to remove the final vestiges of clothing and dignity before a predatory audience.
In another place Raven would have done it differently but here, now, she bent carefully at her knees, crouching so as not to expose herself more than she already was. Unclipping first one buckle, then the other, her shoes were kicked off, skidding across the floor to hit the sea chest with a clump. She instantly lost four inches from her height as she stepped down from the platforms but this was nothing compared to the further diminishing of her spirits, standing there as she was, decorated by nothing more than seven metal bands and scraps of stocking trapped by them that stood out against her browned skin.
“Good grief girl, tidy yourself up!” came the next order, more forthright this time. Dutifully, Raven yanked away the final shreds of the stockings. It felt like she was removing the last of the woman she had briefly been again.
In a previous existence Raven would have looked right through her. With a deep breath and a manicured hand pushed through her hair, Raven stood again, trying desperately to gather composure in obeying such a woman.
It seemed an eternity, Raven standing there, swaying slightly under the pressure of unwanted attentions. She didn’t know the woman as she was soon to, if she did she would have known that that pause was precisely planned, allowing each act of descent into submission to first register, then fester before being pressed down to the next rung on the ladder.
The spell cast by the small woman wove around her, enveloping mind and body, and Raven’s thoughts drifted to who she was, what this could be leading to and why… just why.
She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense. Hell, she couldn’t even be described as pretty and yet she had something; something that caught attention, captured focus and compelled obedience. She was sure this woman was the voice of the metallic mistress and that riled as it meant she had already been indoctrinated to obey. She did have something though, something else. Raven had spotted that from the outset and it was clear that something held some kind of sway over Alexei.
His Mistress? No, that wasn’t possible, not Alexei. Raven discounted that and replayed in her mind the events since the woman’s entrance. Brother. She had called Alexei ‘brother’ but it had slipped past Raven then as nothing more than a show of comradeship common in this part of the world, at least according to movie stereotypes.
That must be it. They were blood. Siblings. Nothing else surely could give pause to Alexei, a man whose reputation had already been shown to be understated. He was a brute like no other, so it could only be family.
A sudden slap of latex across her face stunned Raven back to stark reality, the cold material flopping across her bare shoulder before sliding down to brush against her back. Instinctively, her arms rose to prevent the bundle falling, the act forcing forward her chest, which didn’t go unnoticed to appreciative male eyes.
“Dress. Hurry now, hurry, I don’t have all day,” ushered the small woman, encouraging Raven to unfurl the bunched material and allow it to drape heavily across her hands for inspection.
Yellow. There was certainly no denying the colour. It wasn’t a sunburst yellow. Actually it had more of a smoked hew to it and as Raven shook it out, the garment was released from itself and four thin, limb-shaped appendages flopped out and hung down.
Standing adorned by just seven steel rings, Raven paused. There was no way it would go under them. As if reading her mind, the explanation was given. “They will be underneath. You will always
wear them now, girl, always wear them.”
With that echoing in her mind, Raven slowly turned the garment over. There was the zip, just as expected yet it seemingly stopped at the neck from which a hood sprouted.
“Get on with it!” The punched exhortation compelled her to act. Lifting her left leg, Raven thrust it down into a limb of the stretchy material, her hair hanging down to veil the flush in her cheeks that flourished equally from embarrassment and anticipation.
She had always loved this part. The promise was pure eroticism as first a foot, then an ankle, then a calf were embraced in a clinging, latex grip.
Bending, she gathered the bottom of the latex tube, readying it for the final thrust of her foot past the narrowing of the ankle and into the attached sock, oblivious to her audience that had found a renewed focus at the twisting and straining of her body.
With a grunt, her left foot punched through into the tight sock before the process was repeated with the right, trapping both the metal bands against her skin under the cloying rubber. They were as much a part of her now as were her feet that felt the delicious grip of latex, sealed as they were beneath the garment she drew onto her body.
She had always joked that you needed to be toned just to get a good-fitting catsuit on and this one was no exception, her muscles rippling while she tugged the garment inexorably up long legs, pausing only until the stab of pain in her wounded shoulder died down. Appreciative though they were, this was a workout with an audience she could have gladly done without. The accompanying sounds were more concerning than complimentary, even though she knew how good the show she was putting on must be.
And so, steeling herself, Raven continued to dress for them. Past her knees, the outfit slithered up her thighs, coating the length of her legs in a shining skin of smoky rubber. With a shimmy of her hips, the split back nudged the underside of her bottom while the zipless front hung down lifeless.
Sucking in her toned tummy and arching her spine, Raven wiggled the clinging catsuit slowly higher. “Now comes the difficult part girl, let me help.” The small woman confidently stepped straight into Raven’s personal space, taking the front of the garment in hand.
She was close enough now for Raven to see the hard life that had etched itself into the woman’s face in detail. Statuesque, classic beauty stood silently before industrial functionality. A brief pause then Raven was violated afresh, breaking a personal promise that touches would always be on her terms or nothing.
“Good girl for Natalia,” purred the woman as fingers slithered between Raven’s legs to sample the heat that lay within. Looking up with grey eyes, their ice betrayed the false smile that spread across her thin lips.
The first frisson of thrill shot from the invasive fingers and careered around Raven’s body and soul as her core muscles clenched in response and a grunt escaped her lips. God how she needed to be touched as gently as this woman was touching her. Looking down at the woman’s poorly dyed hair, it was all she could do to stop herself stretching just that little further to kiss the black roots in thanks for just that split second of tenderness in an otherwise torturous sea.
Raven’s head spun as she tried to reconcile feelings. They had no place in her current world. The spell was broken when a firm grip on the catsuit allowed the small woman to stretch the previously billowed rubber out taught, tugging the still stooped Raven forward into two corrective steps as she struggled for balance. “Keep still, girl!” shot the guidance, pulling the front section of the garment out toward her as Raven leant back to create the desired stretch.
“Bend. Put your head in the hood, girl.” Raven stooped lower, thrusting her butt back against the rest of the garment that squeezed and lifted her ass cheeks.
“For God’s sake, girl!” shot Natalia again, clearly dissatisfied with the efforts she was seeing. “Bitch, come here!” The snapped command brought a new presence quickly to Raven’s side and she was hit by the stench of sex.
“Nipples, bitch.” The barked command was answered with a wail of pain as Raven’s nipples were immediately grasped and pulled, forcing her to bend to follow their tug.
It was in that moment as her eyes shot open that the brick wall hit her. There, looking straight into her eyes were eyes that she had once known. With a familiarity in how those fingers felt, she looked into the face of her tormentor. There was no longer any doubt. She was indeed the woman that had once been known as Red.
CHAPTER XXI – Small & Yellow
A million questions surged through Raven’s head, chased by a million more as her world stopped in tandem with her breath. It was Red, yet also, not. She had looked into those eyes a thousand times before; looked down into them and part basked, part laughed in the adoration they had held.
This shell of a woman, this creature, though was not the Red Raven had once known. It was a facsimile of her – there was no recognition where there should have been a spark and more, and the fire in her eyes had been replaced by fear, the fear for survival.
The intense surge of pain welled afresh as the woman quickly looked away and down toward the point on the floor to which she now twisted Raven’s nipples. Was it the merest hint of recognition or just pure subservience, she couldn’t be sure and anyway the agonising crush soon dispelled her inner debate.
Raven willed straining muscles to bend still further with a wail. “Better, girl.” While not satisfied yet, the small woman at least approved of the effort. A tearing pain to Raven’s scalp, her hair trapped and torn - the small woman named Natalia had finally managed to position the neck of the rubber hood on the top of her head.
Panting to the discomfort, Raven felt the tight tug of the catsuit’s neck hold her, still bent double while the firestorm in her nipples redoubled with the release of Red’s pinched grip, allowing reviving blood to flood back. It was all about endurance now and as she looked down to the once athletic woman who first cowered then shrank away, Raven knew it was the only ally she had to help her through to whatever end fate or Alexei, Natalia or destiny decided was hers.
“Straighten up, girl,” shot the command to break Raven from her reflections and without thought she tried to obey, muscles screaming as the tight latex opening resisted the pressure from her head and threatened to scalp her.
“Stupid girl!” And before Raven could try again to curry favour, the sudden scorching slap of a hand to her exposed ass tore a cry from deep within, causing her to suddenly stiffen. The result was precisely as planned and with a ‘pop’, Raven’s head finally punched through the constraining latex and into the smoky yellow hood, smearing her features behind a rubberised grip that blurred her beauty.
The world was strangely sepia through the opaque latex that seemed to press in on every inch of her head. Her first breath was returned with nothing but an abbreviated intake of air. Her second didn’t even yield that. Raven opened her mouth, pushing her tongue forward to meet only a wall of latex.
She was trapped. Encased. Her eyes shot wide. No airholes. She had no air. Panic. Was this how she was to die? She knew they would kill her in the end. But in latex? And just when she thought she saw a chink in their armour of hatred?
They had made a mistake. Her rational mind screamed and hands shot up toward her head before being seized and wrestled back down. She tried to speak, tried to protest but with the pressure clamping her jaws together, the sounds Raven made were nothing more than snatched ‘caaarrrrrrs’.
Held tight and breathless, she had never before been so helpless; never been so in need of the goodwill of others to survive. Her eyes darted from face to face. She couldn’t breathe. She needed them to allow it.
It couldn’t end like this, not like this. She couldn’t end like this and when the small woman reappeared in front of her she had a strange, yellow apparatus with three thick rubber spikes in her hand. Raven pleaded with her eyes to do whatever she needed.
A nod was a silent acceptance of Raven’s unspoken submission and in a swift move the spikes were married to
unseen valves, pushing through openings in the latex then probed deeply up her nose. Instantly, Raven drew in musky rubberised air which whistled its way through the hollow, spike-ended hoses and into her already burning lungs.
With not a second’s pause, the third larger spike was punched through the latex covering her mouth and it was only unthinking reactions that saved Raven’s teeth as she opened her mouth to receive the thick spike. Deeper it plunged until the first scratch to the back of her throat caused Raven to gag. “Easy there, easy girl, no sudden moves,” came the reassuringly whispered words, accompanied by gentle stroking to her still exposed back.
A soft moan pushed out of the gag, the sound whistling through the apparatus in a ‘grawwww’ sound that hinted little of its human origin. There was a delicacy of touch that had no place in her fury of humiliation and yet it had the intimacy and unspoken message that only an owner has with a newly broken mare.
“Good girl, gooood girl,” soothed the smaller woman, slithering her hand further up Raven’s still bare back. So nice, so soothing; and Raven found herself arching back to receive her touch, to gorge on the comfort.
