by H. A. Kotys
The smell of cheap aftershave invaded her nostrils as unseen to him, her eyes darted around for escape and sanctuary. She’d seen his lips move but could only guess at what he was saying. The earplugs drowned out all noise and she feared what he may do.
Katarina’s mind raced. She chewed on the latex cock with renewed vigour, releasing yet more of the saline fluids that kicked up memories of relationships past. A thought whispered in the back of her mind that she was being conditioned, but she needed it; it offered a rare comfort in a dangerous world.
Her lack of answer only seemed to encourage him further and he leaned into her, snaking an arm around her severely nipped waist. In his head he was helping her balance but in hers, invading a taboo. His touch broke the stitching on the sleeve, dislodging part of it from the pocket and causing the some stuffing to spill to the floor.
He would find out, Katarina was sure of that. She looked at him in alarm, danger was everywhere. He wasn’t the type to help, that was clear and the realisation that under close scrutiny he would see what she wore, what imprisoned her, panicked her as never before. Lifting her leg, she drove it back down just as the green light flashed up, jagging her sharp stiletto hard into the top of his foot.
Katarina launched herself across the road, desperate to put some distance between them as he crumpled, clawing at the pain that had just exploded in his foot, cursing the silent, aloof bitch he had only been trying to help.
She had to reach her destination before the youth gathered his senses and came after her again. Spotting the station in the distance Katarina broke into the best run she could.
The sloshing of liquid within the benwa balls was driving her to a state of erotic distraction while the butt plug reamed its own rhythm. Her metronomic ponytail threatened to displace the hat that had been pressed hard on her head and was matched by the hidden washing to and fro of mercury.
Already breathing quick and shallow as the corset compressed her lungs, the rare cocktail of adrenalin, the heat of her outfit and the exertion she was putting herself under caused her to pant uncontrollably. The inserts worked her insides, driving her arousal and further fuelling her adrenalin rush. Her world starting to spin with a lack of the oxygen, Katarina staggered sideways, finding herself leaning in a shop doorway as the balled liquid incessantly lapped inside her.
The deadline, the need to get to that train, to find the wheel, find the key, needed it to settle but the assault inside was too powerful and her body took control. Katarina’s laboured breathing fuelled the liquid’s already steady cadence, and, in turn, that constant panting only made breathing all the harder, creating a virtuous circle that would not be denied.
She was close now. She could see the station in the distance but she was also so close within herself, so close to the release her body now dearly craved. The torment of the proximity of her goal and the burning needs of her body tore her mind in two. So close now, so close. She had to get on, had to keep going but her body knew better. Her willpower was faltering and as it splintered, she could endure the erotic torture no more, finally conceding defeat. There was nothing left and as Katarina slumped in the dark doorway, she gave in to the shockwaves of exquisite pleasure exploding from deep within.
CHAPTER IV - The Station
‘Fuck! No!’ Katarina's mind screamed as her body caved to its carnal needs. ‘Oh God, yes!’ it added in delight as silken shocks shivered their way down to the very tips of her pointed toes.
This was one of those moments when a single cigarette would have been bliss and she rested there, wrung out. Her breathing slowly calmed and Katarina began to scratch together the pieces of her sanity, looking around, half expecting to see a crowd. There was none though, and in that, she was relieved at least but, as her brain plugged itself back in, her eyes settled on the imposing building just a handful of blocks away.
The station and her freedom. She'd not forgotten but her body had defined a different priority and now the trouble it had left her in struck her like a hard slap. As she crouched there, crumpled on her haunches, his voice broke into her becalmed state. “I do so look forward to having you as a plaything.”
No sooner had his voice burst in on her, it disappeared, pitching her back to the solitude of silence. It was the threat of a future she didn't want and spurred by his gloating, she pushed herself erect with a groan, thigh muscles protesting, to perch afresh on those torturous heels.
Defiantly, Katarina emerged from the doorway with a renewed focus to get to her goal in time enough to win her freedom. She screamed into the leather panelled gag, venting her frustration, pointlessly challenging him, her invisible yet constant tormentor.
Three blocks were all that stood between her and her end goal. She could clearly see the elaborately decorated clock above the station’s main entrance ticking remorselessly toward her deadline. There was still time, though it would be close, and Katarina struck out once again, so determined that even if the eyes of the world were watching her she wouldn’t care.
Try as she might, the sway of her hips could not be prevented, exaggerated as it was by the ever tighter grip of the corset and the unnatural gait the stringent boots forced her to adopt.
The clock’s hand ticked off another minute. “Better hurry girl, no time to waste now,” his voice taunted. Katarina yearned to look around for him but she knew that she had neither the luxury of time nor the ability to move her head. So she stalked forward, held as she was in a forward gaze by the tough leather of the collar.
No. Beating the deadline was the only way to win her independence and Katarina redoubled her efforts, quickening her pace as the mercury-filled balls within responded again with their rhythmic pressure. She'd barely come down from the last climax yet could already feel the next building. Stubbornly, she bit down on the latex phallus, mentally ticking off first one block, then two in an increasingly difficult effort to stay focussed on her goal.
People hurried past, lost in their own journeys home as she was went unnoticed at the edge of the crowds. A shoulder barged her, causing Katarina to briefly sway back on the impossible heels and have to fight to stay upright. Undeterred, she pressed on, close, oh so close, and as she crossed the final road, she glanced up at the clock now clearly showing just two minutes before the scheduled departure time of the train she had to reach.
She was there. She could do it. She already knew the station and she threaded her way skilfully through the throng toward her ultimate destination with a renewed confidence. She could even see the platforms and as she set off across the vast concourse, she afforded herself a smile of relief behind her gag.
The constant penetration of her ass by the plug and the sloshing of the mercury were now irrelevant as her mind started to rush with thoughts of freedom. Perhaps even revenge.
Yes, revenge. Katarina knew exactly who had caused her such discomfort, such humiliation and she was not one to sit idly by and let him repeat such an attack. There wouldn’t be a next girl blinded by his promises of stardom and fortune. Sitting back was for submissive types and, while the occasional release of control thrilled her, in most relationships she'd taken a less passive role, directing the play, preferring to cuff than be cuffed - even though they were usually pink and furry.
A departures screen told her Platform six as she passed under it. Pressing on, she checked again at another screen. No room for error. She had to be 100% sure and she was. The City Express, departing 5.30pm, Platform six and she was nearly there and right on time. She could even see the train now. Carriage eight would be at the back so closer to her. Increasing her pace, she closed the last few metres to her freedom.
There were no barriers at this station. She just had to get to the train. The hard part was done and her spirits soared. For the first time with any real certainty, she knew she'd done it.
People with cases and overnight bags struggled alongside her, hurrying to reach their carriage as a whistle blew to sound a warning of imminent departure. None thought anythi
ng odd of the muffled figure in their midst clacking down the gentle incline of the entrance way, leaning slightly against the large bag slung casually over a young traveller’s shoulder as she sought to keep her balance on the slope.
The platform itself levelled out and she picked up speed, disregarding how the key within her boot chafed at her foot. The heavy padlock securing the two ends of the catsuit’s zip swung violently beneath her crotch, thumping first one inner thigh and then the other. The many sensual inputs he'd inflicted on her, the many violations of her body, now paled as she reached level with the rear of the train.
Katarina couldn't twist her head to look at the car, couldn't even twist her body thanks to the confining corset, the laces of which had now dried and hauled the garment even tighter. He had stolen her natural flexibility and as she redirected her approach to point at the train, she saw a large number seven on the window as two sharp whistle blasts signalled to everyone else a final warning of it readiness to leave.
'Seven? SEVEN? How the hell had she missed a car?' The thoughts jarred in her head, a contortion at the pit of her stomach. Katarina adjusted her stance to point towards the last car but it wasn't there. It wasn’t fucking there! This WAS the last car and it was number seven. A fear gnawed at her as she corrected again and steered herself towards the next car forward. There had been a mistake, they had staged the cars the wrong way round. Eight was in the wrong place, it had to be.
Six. It was car six! The number registered in her head and her fears shook high on the Richter scale. “Did you really think I was gonna let you go, girl?” His voice resonated, triggering the first of a flood of tears to stream down her cheeks.
The hopelessness of her situation, her utter frustration, hammered home and Katarina slumped against the carriage, spent.
She couldn't see as the guard ran to move her away from the train. Her earplugs blocked his shouts, her tears took her vision and she was oblivious to the frantic warnings. Her only companions now were the sound of her own pounding heart and inward wails of despair as Immelmann’s voice fell silent after shattering her hope. The urgent questions and shouted warnings of the guard remained unheard, the movement of his lips unseen, even as he arrived to shout in her face.
Hands tugged at her but she remained where she was, as if the proximity to the train would prevent any descent into the next level Immelmann had clearly prepared for her. Katarina wasn't going to move whatever they did to her and, as the station clock ticked to 5:31, the increasingly angry guard called for police help on his radio.
Still she resisted, trying to delay the departure of the train as if it represented her last bridge to freedom. But just as she registered a pressure at the top of her arm, ten thousand volts crashed into her body, compelling a million nerve endings to scream. What little air she had in her compressed lungs was ripped from them. She crumpled as if the fierce jolt had shattered every bone. The train and Katarina’s hope pulled away.
CHAPTER V - Left Turn
A crowd closed in, watching the police officer try to drag her back upright onto unsteady legs. Katarina could feel saliva finding its way around the thick leather pad of her gag and trickling down her chin as her body refused to obey commands, still stunned by the debilitating effects of the Taser-delivered electricity.
Strange the scene certainly was too, particularly amidst a bland commute. A woman, shrouded against the cold, sunglasses and scarf hiding all but a sliver of her face and yet she sported impossibly high heels. Struggling with a train guard, she refused to answer questions or heed his warnings. Seemingly bent on delaying the train, she had some unknown purpose - perhaps she was part of a terrorist plan, perhaps she was merely insane. Certainly, she had not given up until the shock had dropped her.
A strong arm reached around Katarina’s narrowed waist and she was lifted onto legs which were deaf to commands to run. Supporting her, the man hauled her through the assembled onlookers. Dragged down the platform beside the now empty track, tears continued to flow down Katarina’s cheeks. These were not tears of pain, nor just of frustration, these were of both humiliation and relief, the only outward valve to release a myriad of emotions.
In her mind, she had pictured herself a slave. Her usual poise and control had already been stripped from her layer by layer and the sight of the train slowly pulling away had felt like a hundred hammers striking her heart. She was humiliated, bound and broken. He'd already taken her mind to places she'd never remotely dreamed of and Katarina feared both the creativity and control he'd displayed so well. At least she was now in the arms of the authorities, out of his clutches and a few hours of awkward explanation would hopefully see her free. But she would have to be careful. He was clearly a dangerous man and had an eye for her. For now at least though, she was safe.
Nearing the end of the platform the events of the last hour whirled in a maelstrom in her head. Had it really only been an hour since her shoot? She had learnt the lessons of a lifetime since the photographer had called a break and yet the station clock suspended above the concourse confirmed it was just sixty minutes and no more than that.
In sixty minutes she had felt elation, hope, discomfort, despair, orgasmic pleasure and countless other emotions. Katarina felt as if her soul was as spent as her body.
Hung from the officer's strong arm like nothing more than a doll, they threaded their way through the seething mass of the rush hour crowd. Some followed, eager to satisfy their curiosity but most drifted away to their trains and the same daily journeys home, this time spiced with an unusual story about an unusual woman who had tried to stop a train.
The glass door to the police office loomed closer. Katarina could see it clearly and was finally able to stumble a walk as the feeling and control started to return to her legs. The sobs behind her gag abated at the sight of figures inside - orderly, organised, authoritative. Safe.
Nobody followed now, not that she could see. The show was over, the woman gone. A glance behind would have shown Katarina a woman close by though, camera in hand - but she could not turn.
The strong steering hand on her waist and the officer's sharp veer to the left should have shot a warning to Katarina but her mind, still scrambled by the last hour, was slow to react. Even the renewed lapping within the benwa balls didn't herald a warning as she was already learning to partially ignore the stimulation constantly pummelling her body.
Only the blast of cold as they exited the station via a little used goods door snapped Katarina to her senses. The cold made her gasp, which in turn gave her an instant reminder of the constraints he had placed her in. The corset prevented her lungs from expanding, the steel stays gouged into her already chafed ribs. The crispness of the air pricked the slits of her exposed cheeks and sent shivers spiriting down her spine. Then, as they stood there, a chilling new direction revealed itself.
CHAPTER VI - Journey Into The Unknown
A woman advanced, her face impassive. The slash of deep red lipstick across an expressionless mouth emphasised a steely gaze. Tall and slim, her features were finely chiselled to rival any catwalk model, a look echoed in the way she moved closer, authoritative yet effortless.
Stunning. That was the primary thought that crossed Katarina's mind as she stood motionless while the vision in black approached. The leather of the woman’s bustier gripped tight and nobody could miss the endless legs that slid through the slit in her long leather trench coat as she walked. Descending from her mid-thigh leather skirt, they disappeared into pointed knee high boots atop dangerous stiletto heels. This was no high street outfit. She oozed designer chic. Expensive. Elegant. Entrancing.
Katarina could see the woman talking to the police officer who had taken her from the platform. Katarina’s head held straight by the stringent collar that remained locked around her neck, her peripheral vision lacked much detail but she could tell that the conversation was animated.
An argument? Perhaps a negotiation? Yes. A negotiation. A thick envelope was passed from her t
o him. Maybe it was full of banknotes. An exchange? A sale. Her sale. The thought that she was being sold confused her. She should have felt appalled, disgusted, definitely shocked but it triggered other emotions, positive emotions that she was yet to understand.
A now familiar voice confirmed her new role. “She is instructed to take you, girl. You are hers until I decide otherwise,” he continued. “Behold the beauty that is your Mistress, Mistress Raven.” In the subsequent silence, Katarina was left to contemplate the magnitude of Immelmann’s words.
The tornado in her head was spinning out of control now. He was still controlling her. This was part of Immelmann’s plan, this wasn’t an escape. Mistress? The implications of that were also clear. This was no role-play, this was real. Perhaps this was to titillate him – the bastard had manipulated her like a plaything and she had played right along. She was still his, about to be loaned out for his amusement.
Would she not be more than titillated herself though, being under the sway of such a stunning woman? As the thought settled on Katarina, common sense and self-preservation battled only briefly with her base desires - perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad.
