by Declan Brand
Mike smiled. “I see you’re trying.” He leaned over the end of the bed, released the hobble chain. “Wide apart now.”
Kelly complied, moving her feet as far apart as she could.
“Good.” Mike trapped her right angle, clipped the cuff to a short chain that was attached to the post at the lower end of the bed. He repeated that act with the left foot, fastening her legs to the bed, keeping them widely-spread. “That’s about right. Now…”
He stepped up alongside the bed, grabbed Kelly’s hair and pulled her upright. She winced but did her best to help him, her stomach muscles burning as she tried to sit up under her own power. “I see you want to help.” Mike unlocked the handcuff from her left hands, pulled her right hand all the way up, forcing her back down onto the bed and locked the now-open end of the handcuff to the right top post of the bed. “Good. Just stay still now.
He shifted to the left side, repeated the manoeuvre with a second pair of handcuffs—then stepped back to check out the result.
Megan Kelly was spread-eagled in the center of the bed, arms and legs pulled out and away from her, leaving her splayed out like a butterfly on a tray. She wasn’t trying to struggle with her bonds; she was just laying there, her eyes fixed on the man standing in front of her—a single, odd thought in her mind: At least the bed is soft.
“Just one thing left to do.” Mike took off his shirt, tossed it to the side. “You have to beg me to take you—just like you promised.” He sat down alongside her, looked her squarely in the eyes. “Come on—let’s see what your word is worth. Beg me.”
Kelly’s mind raced. The ring gag was still in her mouth, how could she speak? But one look at the man in front of her told her that he fully expected her to find a way—and would punish her if she didn’t.
“P...eez!” She forced the words past the gag. “P...eez ‘uk ee, A.sta!”
Mike smiled. “I can barely understand you, did you say ‘please fuck me, master?”
Kelly nodded her head as hard as she could: “YE...zz, A…sstaa!”
“That’s very nice of you, slave.” He turned himself onto the bed, positioning himself to thrust into her. “I think I will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN – TWELVE HOURS TO CAPTURE
It took nearly three hours to get to the cutoff she had marked on her map. Traffic was nasty—snarled and slow—and Agent Kelly was fuming again as she finally came to the turn-off she needed. Where do I go first? She checked the map again. The house was up above her—just at the edge of the mountains. I can check and be sure it’s the right house. She shook her head. No. I want—I need to know who owns it before I go there—she turned toward the town indicated on the map. According to this, the town seat is just up the road. She glanced at her watch. The Town Hall should be open for another hour or so… She made up her mind; put her foot down on the gas pedal. I’ll go there first.
She almost drove through Claytonsville before she realized she had reached it. The town was tiny—two blocks of wood-faced buildings, most of them holding stores of one kind or another. She pulled into a parking spot in the middle of the second block, ignoring the police station she saw across the street in favor of the sign that marked the building in front of her as the ‘City Hall’.
Inside, it took just a few minutes to find the office of the local Tax Collector. She flashed her badge and ID at the fat man behind the desk and asked him what she had come so many miles to know: “There’s a farmhouse up in the hill country—a big one with a barn.”
“Lots of farms up there, Ma’am.” The clerk shook his head at her statement. “Twenty or more—you’ll have to give me a little more information than that.”
“I don’t know too much more. I can point it out on a map…”
“Survey maps are locked up for the night. Can’t get ‘em out ‘til morning.”
Agent Kelly felt her face begin to grow hot: this small-town bureaucrat is starting to piss me off!
“I can’t wait until morning. Perhaps if I showed you where the farm is?”
“Sorry—I really couldn’t tell anything from a map.”
“Hollywood!” She snapped her fingers as the thought hit her. “I think the farm is owned by a big shot from Hollywood!” Harry Winston, she told herself. It must belong to Harry Winston!
“You’re talkin’ about Mr. Malcolm’s place!” The clerk started to nod. “He’s got a big place up there in the foothills—got a big barn too. I heard he planned to sell it, but with the economy the way it is…”
“You’re sure it belongs to this Malcolm—nobody else.”
“No Ma’am. Mr. Malcolm’s the only Hollywood type that owns any property around here. Everybody knows him—why he was up here just a couple of months ago and ran a couple of new films for the sheriff and all his deputies.” The man smiled. “Nice man.”
The timing’s right, but I haven’t come across anyone named Malcolm up to now … Kelly’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of this new information. “Do you know what Mr. Malcolm does in Hollywood?” She hoped the answer might give her something to go on—anything.
“He’s a famous movie producer.” The clerk was clearly proud of the fact that his town had such a famous and successful man as even a part-time resident. “Makes films for all the big studios. When he was up here the last time—like I told you—he had meetings with a couple of other Hollywood big shots—a famous Cameraman—Willy or Villy or something like that.” The clerk stroked his chin. “And that other man—the big shot agent—Winston, Harry Winston.”
Kelly’s mind lit up as that final bit of info fell into place. That’s the connection! Harry Winston was working with this Malcolm and Willy—they made the film together! It all made sense!
“Thank you for your help,” she took a moment to shake the man’s hand, remembering what had happened with the College Professor—she didn’t want this man phoning the FBI offices and reporting her for being rude. “The Bureau appreciates it,” she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “And we would appreciate it if you’d keep all this quiet for a while—until we finish our investigation.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The clerk’s eyes widened at her words. “I won’t tell a soul!”
“Thanks again,” Kelly pushed through the door, anxious to get a look at the house. “We’ll be in touch.”
I’ve got you, Harry Winston! The thought reverberated through her mind as she headed for the car. I’ve got you dead to rights!
She thought about calling Fanelli or Blanchette to tell them what she had discovered—but decided to wait until she had looked over the farmhouse. Once she was sure it was the right place, she would call for a forensics team—there was bound to be evidence all over the place—blood, semen—all kinds of things.
Agent Megan Kelly was smiling victoriously as she drove out of Claytonville and headed for the hills beyond
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Megan Kelly, slave, moaned softly as her master came inside her. The experience wasn’t like the rape he had perpetrated on her back in the torture chamber—she had taken no pleasure from his actions then—but now…
God, that felt good! Her helplessness had enhanced her sensations, made her experience every thrust, every move of his penis inside her still-sore but very sensitive cunt.
She had actually managed to orgasm—only the second time in her life that had happened.
Do I enjoy being dominated? Am I really nothing more than a sex slave? Her eyes closed as she contemplated her future. Is this my life? Punishment—and pleasure? She shook her head. No! I can’t give up! The Bureau will find me—they know where I was—and Fanelli will be able to backtrack what I was doing. It’s only a matter of time…
A flash of pain drove through her breast and her eyes popped open to see the master flicking his finger at her still-sore nipple. “No time to sleep now, slave.” He smiled and slid up on the bed, kneeling over her face, his cock dripping leftover cum onto her chin. “I think I can go one more time—if you c
an use that mouth of yours to get me hard again.” He reached down, stroked her cheek—and was surprised when she responded by leaning into his touch. “Yes—I think we can both go one more time.” He settled over her face, grabbed a handful of hair and guided his flaccid member into her mouth. “Make it good, slave—and perhaps I’ll cancel one of the punishments you’re earned.” He smiled as her tongue ran over the side of his dick, cleaning and caressing. “Yes, make it good, slave.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE –CAPTURE!
Kelly drove up the dirt road until she came to a gate that marked the area behind as private property. She ignored the sign, pushed the gate open, and drove through. The road beyond was gravel compacted over dirt—but her car was new and handled the slippery surface well. She climbed a bit higher, rounded a corner, and…
There it was.
That’s it! That’s the farmhouse! She pulled into a cleared area between the barn and the house. The same one in the film! She pulled out the screen grabs she had printed before driving out here—held one up to compare the positions of the house and the mountains behind. An exact match!
Excitedly, she got out of the car, determined to be absolutely positive without any possibility of error before she called for backup. She checked the house—the door was locked and she didn’t want to break in—don’t give the lawyers anything to work with!
The barn was open and what was inside more than proved her case. There’re the cages, the wood and chicken wire enclosures were piled in the far corner. And the whipping frame—that was still in one piece, standing on its wide base alongside the door. What else? She looked up, saw the pulleys far above, the ropes carefully coiled and hung on hooks along the walls. There’s no doubt about it! She shook her head, walking through the open area, eyeing the damning evidence that was all around her. This is definitely the place.
She pulled out her cell phone, clicked it open and pushed the code to the FBI’s Los Angeles office. Nothing happened. No bars! She looked around. Must be in a dead area. She headed for the door. I’m sure there was a cell tower on one of the mountains—I just have to get line of sight.
Outside, she walked around the side of the barn; saw the slight discoloration where the latrine trench had been covered over—more evidence! Nearby was an open area with a coiled hose and a double water connector. The bath area! She searched the hillside in front of her for a cell tower—didn’t see one. Maybe I was mistaken. She started back toward the car. I’ll have to go back down to the town—use a landline if I can’t get a signal…
She turned the corner of the barn, headed for her car. Shouldn’t take long to get to a phone. If I can do it while there’s still enough daylight, I can get a team up here today! She smiled. I can’t wait to stick a picture of this place up Ellis’ ass—and when I get back to D.C.
“No cell phone signal, Agent Kelly?”
Kelly froze, surprised to hear another voice—and a familiar one. Who is that? I know that voice…
She slowly turned around--and found herself face-to-face with Harry Winston. Bastard! I’ve got you dead to rights! “Mr. Winston, I have to inform you that anything you say can—and will…”
She froze when he raised his right hand—and showed her the gun he was holding.
“I’m not too worried about evidence right now.” Winston smiled, kept the gun trained on Kelly’s midsection. “I will say that your instincts are very good--you were right about the film—and right about me right from the start.”
“You do realize that you’re threatening a Federal Agent, don’t you?” Kelly kept her gaze steady, watching Winston’s gun hand, ready to react if he faltered or hesitated. “The Bureau knows precisely where I am—and what I’m up to. If you’ll just put that gun down it will make things much easier for you.” Kelly took a step toward the Hollywood man, her face set and as professional as she could make it.
“Nothing is going to happen to me, Agent Kelly.” He raised the weapon, pointed it right at her chest. “And I think you should just stop right where you are—I don’t really want to shoot you—at least not until I ask you a very important question.”
Kelly stopped in her tracks, eyes darting from side to side, trying to find a way to disarm this man—to get an advantage of some kind.
“That copy of our film you have.” Kelly kept her eyes fixed on Winston’s gun hand, ready to move if he showed the slightest trace of nervousness.
But it was steady, with no trace of a tremble or shake.
I’m going to have to risk going for my gun. Kelly could feel the familiar weight just behind her right hip. If I move to the right, he’ll have to bring his weapon across his body—I might have time…
“You’re not paying attention, Agent Kelly.” Winston raised the gun a bit higher, his finger tightening on the trigger. “I asked you about the film—where did you get it? Or, perhaps more to the point,” he smiled at some joke only he could see. “Who gave it to you?”
“I got it from a confidential source, Mr. Winston.” She smiled at him and began a slow move to her right, swinging her hand slowly toward her holster. “And I never reveal my sources.”
“Never say never, Ms. Kelly.”
Agent Kelly had barely touched the butt of her pistol when Winston pulled the trigger on his weapon. Two tiny needles flew from the Taser and impacted Kelly just over her breasts. A circuit was completed and fifty thousand volts arced through her body. She felt a moment of intense pain during which she crumpled to the ground. The pain increased as Winston took a step toward her.
Then there was nothing.
Harry Winston strode over to the gently-twitching body of Megan Kelly. He had allowed the taser to send current through its wires for far longer then was suggested—but he wanted to make sure she was properly knocked out. After all, he told himself. She’s a cop! A Federal Agent—and she’s got a real gun! He dropped to one knee alongside her, touched her carotid artery to make sure there was a pulse. She’s okay—pulse is strong and regular. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a metal case. Now to make sure she doesn’t come around before I’m done.
He opened the case, extracted a disposable syringe. This is supposed to have enough chloral hydrate to keep her out for eight or nine hours. He rolled the collar of her shirt back, found the pulse beating in the artery there, and carefully eased the needle in, pushing the plunder when he saw a dot of blood appear inside the syringe. This should give me more than enough time to get her back to the guys. They’ll do the rest.
He stood up, eyeing his now-deeply unconscious victim. Pity she wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know. He strode away, heading for the van he had hidden beyond the barn. It’ll mean that Andy and his people will have to extract the information—that’ll be painful. He shrugged. Still, that’s really none of my business. He rounded the barn, headed for the vehicle he had hidden just beyond. Too bad she latched onto me so quickly—my own fault for getting careless with those credit card payments. He found the car, climbed inside. Otherwise, we might have been able to sidetrack her—at least until her boss got tired of her dicking around out here.
He gunned the motor and climbed up the rough terrain to the flat area around the barn. It’s not like she was making friends—from what I’ve been told, even her fellow agents were pissed at her—and the people she questioned…
He grinned as he pulled the footlocker out of the van’s bed, dropped it alongside the girl’s helpless form, and lifted the lid. I guess there really is such a thing as Karma. He lifted Kelly by the shoulders, lowered her into the footlocker, folding her until she fit. And in this case, payback is gonna be a bitch for a bitch!
The lid slammed shut on Agent Megan Kelly.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Slave Megan Kelly awoke hogtied at the side of the master’s bed. He had been able to manage one more time—and she had actually experienced a second orgasm—a fact that both excited and puzzled her.
She wasn’t been given much time to think about what it all
meant. As soon as the master finished he forced her to clean his dripping member once again. When that was done to his satisfaction, he removed the bindings holding her on the bed and pulled her to the floor at its side. Her handcuffs were quickly re-locked in place and a new clip fixed her hands to her doubled legs. A chain then clipped her collar to the foot of the bed.
It was a demanding position—but nothing compared to what she had experienced over the previous few days. She even had a carpet underneath her! It took only a few minutes for her to adjust herself well enough to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.
She didn’t know it—but she would need that sleep.
A few hours later, she was brought back into her new world of pain and servitude by a slap across her helpless ass. Her eyes flashed open and she started to mouth a complaint—then remembered where she was. Don’t say anything! She would have bitten her tongue if she could, just to ensure that no sound came out--but the ring gag still held her mouth open. He hasn’t given permission—I can’t…!
“I see you remember some of your training.” The master stood over her, still naked, his eyes hard. “But didn’t I tell you that you were to kneel in the presence of your master?”
Fear ran through Kelly as she struggled to get onto her knees. The hogtie made it nearly impossible for her to move, but she found that she could inch herself forward enough to lay her head on the foot of the bed, then push herself at least partially upright. She had almost gotten on her knees when the chain joining her collar to the bed went taut—there wasn’t enough slack to allow her to reach her knees.
She looked at the master, eyes welling up as she realized the trap she was in.
“You’re still not kneeling, slave.” He shook his head at her half-leaning position. “Too bad,” he raised his eyebrows. “And I was going to cancel one of your punishments today.”
Kelly began to tremble as she realized that she was going to be forced to endure more pain. I can’t stand much more! She couldn’t help the fear that ran through her. I’ll die!
