Simone's Taste of Submission
Blair Brogan was bored. Working for Jennifer Bruce could be quite exciting, and the thrill of the chase was what she loved. Capturing the policewoman and stealing her uniform had been a kick. Even more fun had been following the reporter around, knowing she suspected nothing, and just waiting for the moment to take her. This, though…well, this was babysitting.
That isn't to say that Brogan hadn't enjoyed a chance to get a bit of her own back at the woman who had had her stripped, bound, gagged, and suspended. And, certainly, Simone Beauvais was a beautiful woman, accustomed to being in charge; that always added a little something extra to Brogan's enjoyment. It's just that, deep in Jennifer Bruce's well-guarded mansion, it was almost too easy!
Bruce had said to make Simone uncomfortable, and Brogan had taken her at her word. She had begun by simply tying Simone's hands behind her back. With two armed guards watching impassively, Brogan had marched the slave mistress downstairs, into one of Jennifer Bruce's specially-designed "playrooms."
"Choose," said Brogan, indicating with a sweep of her hand the variety of bondage devices available in the room. Simone's response was to spit in her tormentor's face. Blair Brogan laughed, and seized a fistful of Simone's long, black hair.
"Bitch. I said choose! You tell me which of these amusing devices we are going to use on you, or I will choose myself, and THAT will be my choice." She pointed to a tiny cage, fitted with cuffs inside. It was obvious that no full-grown person could fit properly inside it; no doubt, its occupant would be forced to endure their captivity hunched over and in terrible pain. The fist in her hair yanked Simone sideways, and she was standing before an assortment of leather cuffs and restraints, displayed on the wall.
"What'll it be, Simone?" The captive woman looked at a pair of cuffs that seemed reasonably clean, and pointed with her foot, muttering, "These."
"Good, good," said Brogan as she drew the implements down. She then forced her captive's head down to her waist, and pulled her by the hair to the other side of the room, Simone scrambling to stay ahead of the terrible grip in her hair. Simone's head was pulled up, again, and she was staring at an assortment of gags: balls, trainers, hoods, helmets, and some devices that even Simone rarely used on her own prisoners. Simone was sure that all had been used many times before, on many other women, and she hesitated at the idea of any of them going into her mouth.
"C'mon, Simone," Brogan sneered, giving Simone's head a vicious shake, "pick one out, or we'll use my favorite," and she indicated a ring gag with a large rubber phallus designed for easy insertion in the captive's mouth, as well as easy removal to make use of the captive's mouth in other ways. Simone cringed, and desperately ran her eyes over the gags.
"All right," she gasped, as Brogan's fist in her hair twisted painfully. "That one."
"Which one? Tell me!"
"That red ballgag."
More pain in her scalp. "What about the red ballgag? What do you want me to do with it?"
"Aaaaahhh! Gag me with it, you witless American whore!" Simone spat her contempt; this woman might hold her prisoner, but Simone was far from defeated.
"Oh, O.K." Brogan went on, scarcely seeming to notice her prisoner's outburst. She scooped up the ballgag, and then dragged Simone to the center of the room. There, the captive slave mistress could see an assortment of beams, crosses, and sawhorses, clearly designed for binding captives in uncomfortable positions.
"High up or low down?" giggled Brogan. After quickly deciding that most of the suspension devices would require her arms and shoulders to support an unhealthy amount of her weight, Simone pointed at a sawhorse; she would certainly be uncomfortable, but tied to this she would at least be spared the aching agony of an extended period of suspension.
"Aww, I was hoping you'd let me return the favor for the suspension you gave me before. Still, you're the 'mistress'!" With that, Brogan used her grip in Simone's hair to throw her captive to the floor. Simone tried to scramble up to a more dignified position, but Brogan had already begun to attach the cuffs to her ankles, and Simone sprawled on her face. Brogan addressed the guards, "Guys, one of you give me a hand, here." One of the women put down her gun, and assisted Brogan in lifting Simone to the top of the sawhorse, laying her on her back, and pulling her legs down to the legs of the sawhorse. One set of the leather cuffs was used to fasten her ankles to the ends of the sawhorse legs.
'AAAaaaaggghhh!" screamed Simone, as her body landed hard on her bound wrists..
"Oh, sorry. Forgot your hands were tied," Brogan snickered. She lifted Simone's body enough to reach behind her and undo the ropes. Simone's freed wrists were then immediately taken by the guard and pulled back to reach the rear legs of the sawhorse. More cuffs fastened her wrists in place, and Brogan pulled tightly to ensure that Simone's body was stretched as far as was possible. The bound woman tried to find some slack in the cuffs, and slide to a more comfortable position, but her captors let her get comfortable, then stretched her body out again, tightened the cuffs, and used straps around her upper arms and thighs to take as much slack out of her bondage as possible. After enjoying the cat and mouse game for a few minutes, Brogan smiled down into Simone's face.
"Open wide, honey. Or would you like us to do it for you?" The dark-haired captive hesitated, then closed her eyes and opened her red lips. Brogan laughed, and forced the hard red rubber ball between the captive's teeth. She placed one hand behind Simone's head to raise it from the sawhorse and hold her head steady as she worked the oversize ball into Simone's mouth. Once the ball had popped into place, Brogan pulled Simone's head up farther, making her neck ache miserably. She nodded to the guard, who came and took Simone's head from Brogan's hand, allowing Brogan to buckle the ballgag into place behind Simone's head. Simone's head was then dropped callously back to the sawhorse, banging painfully.
"We don't have a lot of time, here," Brogan mused to the guard. "What can we-oh, do we have any ice cube trays?" The woman nodded, and went to fetch some. Simone groaned, knowing what was to come. Brogan stood, looking down at Simone, whistling. "Ah, here we are," said Brogan as the woman brought the cubes. Simone writhed uselessly as Blair Brogan lay the first cube on her left nipple.
"UUUUggggghhhh!" moaned the captive. She continued trying to move enough to disturb the icy fire on her breast, but Brogan simply held it in place, and Simone nearly wept as the melting icewater trickled down the side of her breast. Nearly wept, but didn't. If there was one thing that Simone Beauvais knew better than anything else, it was that she would have her revenge. This insolent woman and her snip of an employer would pay for this, and as ice was applied to her other nipple, Simone closed her eyes again, screamed uselessly into her gag, and forced the pain from her mind with visions of Blair Brogan , Jennifer Bruce, and all her damned wenches strung up for flogging.
Blair Brogan was still bored. After an hour or so of wicked fun with Simone Beauvais on the sawhorse, she knew that it was time to prepare to leave: Jennifer Bruce would return soon, and it would be time to force Simone to take them to the princess. Her boss didn't like to be kept waiting, so Blair had to put away her toys and prepare Simone for a ride in the boss' limo.
"All right, Simone. Time to get ready for your trip. Maybe after you get back, Jen will let us have a little more time together; I really would like to see how you'd fit into that cage." Simone didn't react to the taunting. Clearly, Brogan was about to unfasten her from the sawhorse; in her exhausted state, and with one of the armed guards still in the room, Simone knew this was not her escape opportunity. Better to stay as relaxed as possible, and save her strength for a better chance. She couldn't help sighing with relief as Brogan unfastened her wrists from the legs of the sawhorse. Simone let them hang: if she moved to restore some circulation, or remove her gag, Brogan might use that as an excuse for torturing her further. Simone let Brogan undo her legs and sit her upright on the sawhorse.
"You're probably thirsty after all that, aren't you?" Simone looked at her captor, but made no move to respond. "OK, " said Brogan, "Here you go." She picked up a glass of iced tea she had begun to drink, and reached behind Simone's head to the buckle at the back of the ballgag. Instead of undoing it, though, she used the buckle to yank Simone's head closer to her, and upended the iced tea on her captive's head. The amber liquid spilled down into Simone's face and rivulets ran through her hair down the sides of her head. Instinctively, she reached to rub her eyes with her hands, but her aching arms moved too slowly, and Brogan slapped them down.
"Leave it," she grinned fiercely, and took Simone by her right wrist, spun her captive around, and grabbed the left wrist, locking both into the cuffs that had recently bound her to the sawhorse. Simone's resolve weakened, but she swallowed a sob deep in her gag, and allowed her tormentor to push her across the room. They came to a stop next to a large sofa. Simone closed her eyes to avoid Brogan's sneering looks, and felt Brogan begin to fasten her arms to her sides with rope. The rope was harsh, a sort of twine that Simone would only have used to punish a captive, not simply restrain her. The captive slave mistress tried not to cry out, but with each turn of rope around her body, Brogan cinched the cord in such a way as to be certain to pinch some flesh, and more than once, Brogan was delighted to hear Simone gasp helplessly into her gag. When Simone's arms were secured, Brogan roughly pushed her face-down onto a long, polished coffee table next to the sofa. Since Jennifer would want Simone ready to walk to the car, Brogan didn't tie her legs, but simply re-attached the leather cuffs which had bound her to the sawhorse. Simone wasn't fastened to the table, but even if she could wriggle off, there was nowhere to go, and no help available. For all the danger of her position, the beautiful Frenchwoman almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation: what would her slaves think if they could see their mistress laid out on this table, stark naked, bound hands resting on her buttocks, yards of twine holding her helpless, a fat red ballgag distending her lovely mouth, causing a little pool of saliva to form on the table just below her chin. This was what Brogan had wanted: to reduce the beautiful slavemistress to a submissive plaything. She would fail. Simone knew that, somehow, she would escape.
Blair Brogan was bored. She sat on the couch, reading a newspaper, one hand idly stroking the smooth, exposed derierre of her captive as she lay prone on the table. Simone clenched her teeth down on the gag in her mouth as she endured the humiliation of the woman's insolent touch.
"Lydia," Brogan spoke without looking up from her newspaper, "I seem to have spilled my iced tea. Be a dear and grab me another." Her forefonger continued tracing back and forth across Simone's satiny cheeks. The other woman set down her gun, and left the room. There was the sound of ice cube trays being cracked, then a thudding sound. Simone strained her head but could see nothing. Brogan didn't even look up at the sound, nor did she look up as an iron skillet from the kitchen came crashing down on her head.
Alexandra's drug-induced sleep had been free of Cynthia's half-awake dreaming, but she awoke to a decidedly more pleasant situation. Rather than being displayed for the amusement of strangers, Alexandra was completely alone. Naked, and in the dark, but alone and, astonishingly, untied! Through the gloom, she could see that she was lying on the floor of a small room; light came through a crack at the bottom of a door on the far side of the room. Alexandra rose, unsteadily, to her feet. She stumbled over a small endtable, and landed with a crash on the floor. Alexandra held her breath, and waited for the discovery she was certain the sound would bring. Nothing. No, wait, there was something. She could hear voices, and a rustling sound. Now, the sounds were joined by a rhythmic thumping, and the voices got louder.
"Oh, no, you're terrible! Don't do that!" giggled a woman's voice. "No, not that not-UUUUUmmmmffff!". A man's laughter followed, his breathing short and ragged.
Watching the floor carefully, Alexandra made her way to the door. The sounds grew louder as Alexandra gently moved the door open. Across the hallway, another door was slightly ajar. In the dim light, she could make out the form of a naked man on the bed. He was lying across the slim form of a woman, gasping in spent passion. He reached his hands toward the head of the bed, out of Alexandra's line of sight, and when his hands came back into view, he was holding a gag! In fact, it looked to Alexandra as though it were the same one she had been wearing when she was drugged!
The man spoke. "Should we put this stuff back on her now? Isn't your boss going to be back soon?"
"No hurry," replied the woman in a dreamy voice. "I'm sure she'll stay out for hours, and what Jen doesn't know I'm doing won't hurt her. Now, you evil villain, I'm getting ready to scream for help. What are you going to do about-uuuummmmffff!" The voice trailed off in a muffled giggle, and the man laughed again.
Alexandra shook her head. How lucky could she get? She must be in Jennifer Bruce's mansion right now. There would probably be loads of evidence in here somewhere of her criminal activities, but where to begin looking? And there was no telling how soon her enemies might return and recapture her. No, the priority was to get clothes, get out, and get help.
As Alexandra made her way downstairs, skulking around corners to avoid detection, she heard sounds ahead of her. In a small kitchen a woman in the uniform of Jennifer Bruce's security team was taking an ice cube tray out of a freezer. Alexandra waited. At the same moment the woman cracked the trays, Alexandra grabbed the freezer door and smashed it against the back of her head. The woman dropped the tray, and crashed to the floor. In moments, Alexandra had her stripped, and she donned the uniform, glad that the fit was a bit too large, rather than too small. Taking an iron skillet as a weapon, she descended the staircase into a large room.
Even after all she had been through lately, Alexandra was unprepared for the sight that greeted her. A naked woman lay tightly bound and gagged on a coffee table; after a second, Alexandra recognized Simone Beauvais! Sitting on a couch next to her, back to Alexandra, she recognized Blair Brogan, who had helped kidnap Alexandra by posing as a policewoman. Brogan was lazily caressing the naked prisoner. The opportunity was too good to pass up. Alexandra stepped up to Brogan, lifted the pan, and let her have it.
Simone Beauvais was unable to turn her head enough to look behind her, so she squirmed around on the table, and slid off with a crash to the floor. Looking up, she saw Alexandra Anderson, the reporter whose meddling had caused her so much trouble, dressed in the uniform the armed woman had worn, brandishing the frying pan she had cold-cocked Blair Brogan with.
"Hi, Simone," the blond reporter greeted the woman cheerily. "What happened to you? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." The bound Frenchwoman growled into her gag. Alexandra pondered the situation. Simone was dangerous, and had no love for her, but there could be no better lead to the missing princess than her captor!
"Look, Simone, if I wanted to, I could just leave you here, and let Brogan decide to pay you back for the lump on the head I just gave her." Dark eyes glared over the ballgag. "But that wouldn't help the princess, or Captain Crane. I'll make you a deal. I'll untie you, and you can take Brogan's clothes. Then, we walk out of here, go our separate ways, and I'll promise not to turn you over to the authorities if you'll quietly take me to the princess. She can be freed, and all this will be forgotten."
Simone stared hard at Alexandra for two reasons: the first was that she couldn't believe what she was hearing. The only way she would take this nosey American to the princess would be trussed like a turkey, and whimpering into a gag. The second reason she stared hard was so that Alexandra wouldn't catch her looking on the other side of the sofa, where the guard had set down her gun.
Simone nodded, and Alexandra began by unfastening the captive's ankles. Simone lowered her head for Alexandra to undo the gag. The heavy buckles were difficult for Alexandra's fingers to manipulate, but she finally worked it free. Alexandra looked around her. "Let me see if I can find some scissors."
"NO, wait-" shouted Simone-- what if she found the gun? "Here, let's look in the kitchen." And, with that, the bound slavemistress sprang to her feet as gracefully as she could, and made her way up the steps. Alexandra shrugged and followed, admiring the way her former captor maneuvered her trim torso while tied that way.
In the kitchen, scissors soon had Simone free, and Alexandra undid the cuffs on her wrists. "Now, let's get you some clothes."
Moments later, Simone had dressed herself in Blair Brogan's skirt and blouse. She was less lucky than Alexandra, as her curvaceous frame made the clothes quite a tight fit.
"OK, let's get out of here," said Alexandra. She turned to head for the stairs, and Simone reached down beside the couch. She came up with the gun the guard had left.
"Oh, we'll get out of here, all right. But I think I need to make an adjustment to our little arrangement." Alexandra stared, horrified both at the gun, and at the betrayal.
"I should have left you for her!"
"Well, my dear, you didn't. Now, if you please, pick up that lovely gag I was wearing." With little choice, Alexandra did as she was told. "Put it on." Sighing, the blond reporter opened her mouth and forced the ball, still slick with Simone's saliva, between her teeth.
"Don't bother buckling it, I'll do that. Pick up those cuffs," she indicated the leather restraints on the floor, "and cuff your right wrist. Alexandra obeyed. Simone then, with practiced ease, pulled Alexandra's other wrist, and cuffed the two together. With Alexandra's hands now bound, Simone set down the gun and turned her attention to fastening the ballgag tightly behind her captive's head. Both women grunted, Alexandra in discomfort as the gag tightened, Simone in satisfaction as she buckled it closed.
"Now, Anderson, I could just as easily leave you here to endure Brogan's tender mercies. That I do not is no show of kindness. I have a use for you. Come, we go now." For all that had gone wrong for her in the past few days, Simone's luck held now. They made their way to the garage, found a car waiting with keys inside, and Simone bundled Alexandra into the trunk of the car and drove off.