Descent Into Darkness (Written Pictures #1)

by H. A. Kotys

  “Good girl,” he offered as encouragement. Satisfied with the distraction of doubt he had sparked once again, he leaned forward and pushed her back. Walked backward by his hands, her knees crumpled and she fell onto the bed, crushing her useless arms beneath her. He gripped her shoulders and easily flipped her onto her front, pushing what little air she’d managed to inhale back out of her compressed lungs as she landed.

  Winded now, she could offer no resistance as he grabbed her ankles and tugged her legs over the edge of the bed. Face down, knees on the floor and tortured by turmoil, she waited for his next move. She could feel his eyes boring into her, thirstily drinking in the look of jet black latex stretched over her shapely ass.

  “You’re breath-taking, girl,” he offered as she started at the hand beginning to caress her ass, the intrusion of his voice once again exploding into her near-silenced world. His strong hand exploring, she lay there, frozen, unwilling and unable to move from his touch.

  “I don't usually interact with my girls, but you ... well, you just scream for my touch,” he said as if it would vindicate his actions. Gliding his hand over her butt, he moaned slightly, a weakness revealed for the first time but short-lived. Catching himself, he withdrew his hand and slapped her hard, as much to refocus his attention as hers.

  The sting of his hand burned her but she could not move, could not struggle. Deer in the headlights? No. compliance was the best way to get out of this in one piece so she laid still, both her ass and pride smarting from the abrupt slap.

  Time seemed to stall as Katarina waited for what came next. Lying there, bent over the edge of the bed, vulnerable, controlled. The vibrant visions of her career were vaguer now, chased away by a far more immediate and horrible prospect. And yet that prospect didn't chill her as much as it perhaps should. Somehow it plugged directly into more basal urges to bind and be bound, to control and submit. The cocktail of feelings within her boiled. Dreading. Anticipating. Confused.

  He rested on his haunches to take in the vision before him. It had been so uneventful, not the sport he'd hoped for. She'd been taken and trussed with an ease which surprised him. He'd expected at least some struggle. He knew she was a spirited girl and he would have liked to spend time taming her to a degree - the Taser in his pocket had been charged and was ready to use.

  Yet the simplicity of each step had allowed him time to savour her in a way that he could not have imagined enjoying quite so much. He had slowly put this beauty into a position where she was undeniably his and as he pondered his next move, that thought inspired a satisfied smile to ease across his face.

  Katarina was dragged back from her thoughts as she felt his finger at the lower part of the three way zip of her catsuit. He seemed to pause, was he unsure of himself at last? Her answer though came quickly as she felt the zip start to be drawn down, exposing her most sensitive areas to the chilled air of the room. She grunted, her tongue trapped by the thickly veined latex cock, as much at the shock of the cold as the thought of the motive for his latest and boldest intrusion.

  Too much, this was too much. The thought careered around her head, bouncing, repeating and beckoning her body to react. No reaction came though as she felt him peel aside the latex protecting her modesty, revealing her most personal area to him.

  An intimate touch, something now pressed against her. Katarina bit down on her gag. Slick with the forbidden thrill of her situation, she couldn’t resist as she felt herself being entered once, twice, three times, feeling fuller with each insertion. She detested it but she dare not resist. While hard, this was something cold and alien. Her mind focussed squarely on the things now within her as she raced to work out just what he was doing, breath quickening as she struggled to force air into her lungs past the corset which seemed to tighten with a will of its own.

  A second harsh slap jolted her back to her new reality. Katarina bucked, feeling the alien intrusions in their full force. The liquid mercury within the benwa balls sloshed from side to side, pressing them against the walls of her cervix, lapping at her g-spot as the liquid settled back to rest. Bolts of electricity arrowed through her as nerve endings fired their joy at the sensation. The loud moan that found its way around her harsh gag was all that Immelmann needed to confirm that they would indeed fulfil their purpose.

  As the motions of the heavy liquid eased, Katarina remained still before her new Master, for that is what she realised he now was. She had expected him to own her career but this was much more. For now he owned her body and perhaps her entire future. Master. The word tumbled around her head, the significance growing with each echo. She was his slave, his girl, his property now to do with as he pleased.

  A gentle warm hand on her butt started to ease the sting of his strike, cajoling the blood to return with a tender massage that even a lover would be proud to give. Her tense body started to relax to his touch as she revelled in the attention he was now bestowing on her, luxuriating in the feeling as she felt him run something back and forth against her, once again sending delightful frissons through her body.

  That same relaxation made his next act all the more shocking as she felt the tip of something hard and inhuman slide along her sex to rest against her sphincter. Immediately she tensed, only encouraging him to push harder. She'd been disgusted when her last boyfriend had suggested anal and almost physically kicked him out of her apartment. It had served to crystallise her preferences and in the eighteen months since, only women had been invited to share her bed.

  His voice broke into her world once again. “Relax girl, you have lubricated it well and I will not be resisted.” Pressing harder Katarina felt the object enter her and with a strong insistent pressure, nudge further and further inside until her muscle naturally contracted around the narrowed base, nestling the butt plug deeply and resolutely within.

  She was truly filled now with this new violation stuffing her abdomen, which was already compressed by the harsh embrace of the corset and filled with those balls. This was no longer the thrilling game Katarina thought it might evolve into as her anal sanctity had been trampled on, the realisation of which destroyed the dam. She could hold back no more and her tears streamed to the duvet beneath her.

  Slowly, he drew the zip of her catsuit back down, careful not to nick any skin on his prize - her. As the tags met, a final padlock clicked shut and though she could not hear it, she knew almost instinctively now what he was doing.

  “The key for that girl is the only one not on you,” he explained powerfully, manhandling her back upright onto the impossibly high heels. Clipping a leash to the ring in front of her collar, he started to tug her towards the door of the room.

  Thoughts of being taken through the hotel horrified Katarina. She fought properly for the first time, leaning back and pulling against him with all the strength she could summon, desperate to remain within the relative haven that was her hotel room. With an increasing pressure on her neck, she felt herself being slowly dragged forward, heels snagging on the carpet. Her balance now her priority as the last semblance of dignity under her own control, she was unable to resist and was drawn inexorably towards the door by the chain attached to her neck.

  “The remaining key is taped to the front wheel, carriage eight of the overnight express to the city. It leaves at .... oh, 5:30pm. That’s thirty minutes if you really want release. This is your single chance at freedom, girl. Reach the train, get the key and you are free. Fail and I keep you.”

  The information hit her like a sledgehammer. The station was about two kilometres from her hotel; she knew that having walked from it yesterday when the bus dropped her off. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem but trussed as she was, time was already tight and her mind raced while he looped the leash over the hook on the back of the door, holding her in position.

  The thick leather of her collar prevented her watching as Immelmann strode into the bathroom but the cold of the water he poured over the leather laces in her corset and boots heralded his return.

/>   “The water will shrink the laces. It will make your journey all the more interesting as your corset and boots grip you all the tighter,” he explained in the same matter of fact way he would explain directions to a stranger on the street. The attention to every detail of her discomfort led her further down towards despair and as the excess water pooled onto the carpet, he prepared her for the world that waited beyond the door.

  First sunglasses were put carefully over her eyes; those outsize Jackie Onassis ones that had been resurrected by misguided fashionistas, large and dark enough to cover the many secrets that her eyes could reveal. This was followed by a large bulky coat that shapelessly covered her, hiding both her stunning figure and her dire situation beneath a shroud from neck to ankle, the arms cleverly stuffed and then stitched into the side pockets to resemble her own.

  Leaning back to survey his work and his prize, a nod saw him stretch beyond her. Material started to wrap around her neck and lower face, covering the gag. Turn after tight turn, tucking, knotting, tying, this silken scarf would ensure social acceptability was preserved.

  A wide-brimmed hat was crammed onto her head, leaving her earplugs in plain sight. He knew they wouldn't be questioned though. To the casual observer she would appear to be nothing more than a lady protectively bundled up against the cold, warmed by her own musical choice through her earplugs, hurrying through rush hour in the seedy part of town that surrounded the station in a bid to catch her train.

  Her preparation was finally finished. She had no money to catch a cab and no means to communicate anyway so her fate now lay on her ability to get to the station. With a grim determination, Katarina resolved to succeed, to show him, make that train and win her promised freedom, even if she had to crawl there in those damn boots.

  CHAPTER III - The Outside World

  As he swung the door open, Katarina tottered after it, attached as she still was to the hook on its inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar hotel corridor yawn before her. Now though, it was not simply a route to the lift. Now it somehow seemed darker, the lights barely penetrating the gloom, more foreboding, dangerous, exposing her as it would to the intrigued scrutiny of the outside world.

  With a firm push of a knee to her butt, she was propelled outside, unaware that he'd already retrieved the leash from the hook as she focussed on the corridor outside. Startled, she struggled to regain her balance as a fall without hands would’ve hurt more than just her pride.

  The turning of the door handle to the next room snapped her head as much as it would go to the right and Katarina flung herself back toward her own room, only to crash against the door as it slammed shut in her face.

  Frozen. Not even daring to breath. Katarina pressed herself against her door as a laughing couple spilled out, oblivious in the embrace of fresh love. She could have had three heads but they wouldn’t have noticed her and once they had disappeared around the corner, she gathered herself. She flung her shoulder against the door once, twice but it was more in frustration than hope. There was only one real option and so with tentative steps she set off toward the elevator, gaining speed and momentum despite her enforced gait.

  Her first challenge was to press the call button. She tried to tilt forward but the bite of the corset into her ribs was soon too much. Bending her head forward was also soon discounted as the posture collar choked off her efforts.

  Torn of yet one more vestige of pride, she carefully knelt on one knee before the button, coat parting to reveal the sheen of her latexed leg and pressed it with her nose to summon the next part of her journey. The mercury of the benwa balls sloshed within her, creating a decidedly unwelcome distraction. The call button glowed red to reward her success and with difficulty she rose back to her feet, leaning into the cold wall, her thigh burning in protest at lifting her.

  A resounding 'bong' that she could not hear heralded the arrival of the elevator, the doors sliding back to reveal an empty car, much to her relief. Katarina carefully stepped inside, her heels retorting loudly on the fake marble floor. Moving instinctively to the rear of the car, further away of prying eyes, the lift soon lurched upward. So eager was she to find the car’s corner that she’d forgotten to press the button for the ground floor.

  One step forward to correct her oversight was accompanied by a startling tug on her body. Katarina turned this way and that, the very act torturous because of the restrictive combination of corset and collar. The elevator hurried on its assigned upward journey as she twisted to unhook her coat from the handrail, desperate not to have it fall open. She subconsciously sucked on the latex cock in her mouth as a child would a dummy, seeking comfort in a threatening situation. Her reward was again liquid. The texture of the thick, gloopy soup of nutrients and rehydration salts reminded her of boyfriends past. It was so difficult just to do simple things and, caught there, the enormity of the task ahead washed over her.

  A second loud 'bong' announced the elevator’s arrival to a new floor to all but her. Katarina froze wide eyed as the doors slid open to allow Mr Average Businessman to enter. The man barely noticed the shrouded woman who could barely breathe. She pressed to the rear of the car as if trying to melt into the wall. He prodded at his smartphone with a studied ferocity, engrossed in it, pausing only to stab a finger on the button for the lobby.

  When the elevator arrived, Mr Average Businessman trooped out with a grunted “Good Morning to you, too,” head down, still buried in his phone. A tug, a twist and finally Katarina unhooked her coat from the corner of the handrail, following in his wake, the doors shutting symbolically behind her.

  Slowly, she slipped through the lobby, trying to quieten the strike of footfalls she could feel but not hear. She moved with all the grace she could summon, difficult with the dangerous heels and intrusive stabbing of the butt plug. The dark sunglasses hid her worried eyes to any that may be curious about the tall woman with the strange stride. To Katarina’s relief, she went unnoticed by all as they busied themselves around the foyer, checking in, checking out, checking phones.

  The outside world lay beyond the hotel’s glass doors. Normally pretty innocuous, normally just there, it was now a threat to her freedom with its inherent bustle. She didn’t want to go out there but it was her only real choice. Katarina hesitated but when a bellhop swung open a door with a courteous bow, she surged forward again, spurred by knowing that the clock was fast ticking.

  She felt the cold air of the late autumn afternoon on the small slit of exposed face as she stepped carefully down the entrance steps. Her inner voice screamed at her, ‘Marble. Why do hotels always love fucking marble?’ Her ankles fought to keep her erect as the mercury-filled balls sloshed their exquisite pressure, echoing the stunted descent of the steps.

  It was the same world as yesterday. Now though it seemed different. Foreboding, more threatening and dangerous in so many new ways. Adrenalin began to course through her, quickening her shallowed breathing as she prepared to strike out in the direction of the station.

  Each crack in the uneven sidewalk seemed to beckon her towards it, tempting her to trip, to fall, to fail. With intense concentration she began to make her way towards her goal, while her constantly stimulated body screamed for focus of its own with an agenda she knew would only see her falter. 'Why the hell don't they repair these properly?'

  Her normal, confident sashay was now forcibly replaced by a short, mincing stutter. The liquid distraction within still lapped her g-spot for attention, causing her to pause, needing it calmed. Immelmann had crafted a situation totally alien to her. When the mood took her, Katarina would stride down the street, head held high, revelling in being the centre of attention as heads turned to take in her beauty. She craved a return to that familiarity as she kept to the shadows cast by tall buildings in the failing evening sun, desperately trying to remain invisible to the crowd. This discomfort, the feeling of needing to hide, was planned, she was at least sure of that.

  “Hurry now girl.” His voice exploded
in her ears. Head held tightly forward by the rigid leather of the posture collar and startled by the sudden intrusion, Katarina quickened her pace, electrified by the thought that he was still close but tempered by a desire to reassert some independence. She would hurry, sure, but she would hurry for her, not for him, she had nothing for him.

  A clock sited above a jewellery shop measured her progress as she moved with a steady pace towards the station, flagstone by flagstone, block by block. It would be tight; the delay in merely leaving the hotel had seen to that already. Nothing else could be allowed to faze her in her quest for release, and so she quickened her pace while the hand of the clock ticked off another minute.

  Crossing lights seemed to be staging a conspiracy as yet another red delayed her and, despite a withering glare from behind dark glasses and the frustrated stomp of a boot, refusing to turn green. Her mistake was instantly clear. The harsh retort of her heel attracted attention. A number of people turned, then just as quickly snapped their heads away, disgusted at the socially unacceptable heels which imprisoned her feet.

  One didn't look away though and as the youth approached her with hungry eyes, a dark weight settled at the pit of Katarina’s stomach. His accidental bump to her shoulder as the crowd jostled, readying to cross, caused her to teeter and correct her balance with a series of stuttered short steps. “Can I help you, Miss?” His short question went unheard as he gnawed on chewing gum.