KITTEN

by

Brian Sands

assisted by

Cordelia White

Chapter Ten: Gentle Persuasion

Mignon heard shuffling sounds and guessed that Meg was being led into the room with her ankles still hobbled. She wondered how her friend had spent the previous hours. Meg would have remained gagged and bound of course, prime Rules in Joan’s manual.

The room was silent. Mignon wondered what was going on. Then she heard a strangled grunt. It must be Meg, but Mignon did not recognise the sound as her. It was more like the cry of a small animal in a hunter’s trap. It was frustrating and also frightening not being able to see what was happening around her. And when at last Alice spoke, the hairs on the back of Mignon’s neck became erect and a shiver spread through her body from head to foot. If she had not been lashed immobile against the high upright spar that ground into her back, she would have fallen to the floor in a faint.

‘See what we’ve done to your sweet little friend? She didn’t like it one bit either.’

Alice’s voice was congealed with sinister intent. A faint whimper escaped from Meg. My god, she must be gagged as fully as I am, thought Mignon.

Alice continued. ‘You see how pale she is from our exertions. Darling Joan didn’t stint on giving lovely Mignon her full attention, did you dear?’

‘No, Mistress. She really was most defiant, at first. But a couple of backhanders soon put her in her place.’

‘Nnngk nnnngk!’

‘I know, sad isn’t it,’ said Alice. ‘But it had to be done. Oh, that other bruise just above her so sweet pointed breast is my work, I have to admit. You should have heard her try to scream when I tweaked her pretty nipple ... like this!’

‘Nnnnnngk!’

I was Meg’s cry coming through what must be a huge and very mouth filling gag, thought Mignon.

Alice’s fingers were on her breast, her thumb and forefinger squeezing Mignon’s nipple erect, driving a hot shaft of pleasure through her body. But to someone watching, such as Meg who must be as bound and helpless as Mignon, it must appear that Mignon was in exquisite agony instead of in intense and very distracting pleasure as she writhed under her bonds.

‘See what I mean? ... This will stop as soon as you agree to sign over a Power of Attorney, which I will use tomorrow through a lawyer who has channels that don’t observe national holidays. Before you shake your head in refusal, look again at lovely Mignon. Do you want your friend to suffer more than she has already?’

Here Alice gave Mignon’s nipple another delicious tweak. Involuntarily, the young woman tried to arch her back against the pillar and raised her head. A faint throaty ‘gggg’ escaped through the seals over her mouth. An answering ‘nnnngk’ issued from Meg.

‘I see you understand the situation,’ said Alice dryly. ‘But in case you do not yet grasp the gravity of this, Joan Dear, bring out the little cat.’

Cat? Thought Mignon. A guttural and still faint wail came from Meg’s throat.

‘Nine tails, nine lives, for cats that is,’ said Joan.

Mignon flinched as she felt several fingers of soft leather run across her shoulders and down over her exposed breast.

‘Nngk nngk nngk!’

‘Do you agree or shall we prolong your friend’s agony?’

‘Nggk nggk.’

‘Good. Wise decision ... What’s that? You’d like your gag removed. Very well, just for a moment. Joan, please ...’

There was a long pause. Poor Meg must be gagged really completely for them to be taking so long.

At the moment that Mignon had that thought, she heard a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp followed by retching and a fit of coughing. Meg was obviously being relieved of her gag. Then Meg’s voice came, hoarse but strong.

‘You- You bitches. What have you done to her?’

‘Take a closer look.’ It was Alice’s voice.

‘I will if you take that blindfold off her.’

‘All right ... we’ll allow that, for a moment only shall we Joan?’

‘Yes, Mistress. I haven’t made up a Rule for that ... yet.’

‘Oh but there will be, I can count on you,’ rejoined Alice.

Mignon flinched as fingers brushed at the back of her head while they worked on the knot - they felt like Joan’s hands - and the broad band of silk brushed her cheeks sensuously as it slid down from her eyes. She blinked in the light, only half hearing a gasp of surprise and anger from Meg as she tried to focus her eyes. When at last her eyes had adjusted and she could see clearly through the tears, Mignon could only stare at Meg. The young woman was dumbfounded both literally and metaphorically.

Meg was bound more or less as Mignon expected her to be, with her arms behind her back, clearly secured at elbows as well as at her wrists and with ropes around her body tight above her statuesque breasts, and below them as well. The ropes were clearly cinched in some sort of tie behind Meg’s back because they seemed to be embedded in her body and raised her breasts to what must be a very uncomfortable position for them to be held in for any length of time.

But what took Mignon’s breath away was the black body stocking, which was all that Meg wore. The single skin-tight garment had sleeves that came to mid forearm and legs to mid calf. It had a low scoop neckline that revealed the tops of Meg’s breasts. But the whole garment was so flimsy and transparent that virtually all of Meg’s ripe body could be seen, from the full roundness of her breasts with the dark circles of areolae and the thick points of her nipples to the dark triangle of hair that stood on her mound like a small forest seen from a distance. And, as well as the ropes that framed Meg’s breasts, there was a waist tie from which a crotch rope dove, disappearing between Meg’s legs. It looked tied with such ferocity that Mignon was amazed that Meg had been able to walk into the room at all. The flimsy body stocking was better than nothing, but on the whole it was obviously inadequate as a means of offering protection.

But Meg in her turn was looking at her with concern in her face. Then she turned to Alice and Joan and with concentrated fury said, ‘You didn’t have to hit poor kitten! One of her eyes is swollen.’

‘Oh but we did, didn’t we Joan?’

‘Oh yes,’ answered Joan. ‘It was entirely necessary. Yes, I think it was. I’m quite sure about it. She was really quite recalcitrant and we had to do something.’

Mignon thought, Are my eyes swollen? She realised that Joan must have given her a black eye when working on her with the make-up kit.

The young woman tried desperately to somehow project the message through her eyes that she was not as badly beaten up as Joan’s make-up art made it appear, but Joan, perhaps sensing Mignon’s unspoken cue, quickly bound the scarf over her eyes again.

‘Very well,’ said Alice’s voice in a soft, dangerous register. ‘Now will you sign the aforesaid document, or shall I let Darling Joan do some more work on Kitten?’

Mignon was the third person in that room to appreciate the irony in Alice’s remark. She was the only one who would reveal to Meg what it really meant. But the agonisingly tight and suffocating gag tied and taped in her mouth, and the dark silk blindfold, made her a mute and unseeing witness to Joan’s drama and Alice’s subterfuge.

There was a pause, then Meg spoke. In a defeated voice that carried a faint tremor, she said, ‘All right. I’ll sign the stupid Power of Attorney, only please don’t hurt Mignon any more.’

‘A bargain’s a bargain,’ said Alice. ‘We’ll keep our part of it when you keep yours.’

‘I- I’ll sign it now ... ’

‘Excellent. We’ll do it in the other room. Joan dear, make our sweetheart a little more comfy. Prepare her for beddy-byes.’

‘With pleasure Mistress ... But there is one thing, the other one’s gag ...’

‘Oh yes, you shan’t need to speak while you’re signing the papers, Meg dear.’

‘There’s no need for ...’

Meg’s voice cut off sharply. Mignon heard the faint retching again, then silence punctuated by heavy breathing.

‘You were going to say perhaps, "no need for the same gag?" Oh but there is. Joan’s Rules have to be followed to the letter, although I must add that we’re now making these up as we go along. There are no real Rules about the nature of each gag, and when it is to be applied ...’

‘Except for their night-time gags, Mistress.’

‘Oh yes, I forgot. Anyway ... come along.’

Mignon heard Meg shuffling out the door accompanied by the click-clack of Alice’s heels. Joan was doing something with the ropes that bound her to the thick post. For a moment Mignon thought she was going to be freed, temporarily of course, but Joan was only making them tighter, as if there was any need for her to be made more helpless than she was already!

‘In a little while, my dear, we’ll have you and your friend snug again for the night. Won’t that be loverly? But ... for now, we’ll let you languish in your bonds. I must go and oversee the signing of the papers.’

Meg was sitting on a kitchen chair watching Alice and Joan as they manoeuvred a small writing desk a few more inches in front of her and began between them to sift through a sheaf of papers from a tan briefcase. She was still bound tightly with ropes; still wearing the black body stocking. The hard wooden seat of the chair pressed the crotch rope deeper between her labia, sending a bolt of sexual energy through her body every time she moved. She could not make herself comfortable on that chair no matter how often she tried to shift her weight.

She was still gagged, her mouth filled with packing. An observer would have been able to see through a broad band of black transparent material - a black stocking wound twice about her mouth - that held the packing in place. Meg’s jaws were stretched open almost to breaking point by a large roll of white material that made her cheeks bulge. They were not pressed in like Mignon’s were beneath tape and scarf. The gag was a large bunched-up piece of silk slip, taken from an earlier point in the captivity. There were in fact two pieces. One was pressed so deeply into the back of her mouth that she was in constant danger of choking. The other completely filled the front of her mouth and bulged out between her teeth as well as against her cheeks. Meg was literally in a double bind. The crotch rope tended to force constant shifting, small movements of her buttocks on the seat of the chair, but the cruel gag tended to force intense stillness and concentration on breathing and fighting back the gagging reflex. Sweat poured off Meg’s face and ran down her body.

Alice watched her prisoner narrowly. It was not the sort of gag that could be tolerated for long before the victim succumbed to real choking.

‘Don’t think only about your little friend,’ said Alice almost kindly. ‘Pay some attention to your own comfort. How long do you think you can stand the double stress of being gagged that way and wearing the crotch rope?’ She paused and looked into Meg’s eyes. She saw resignation there. ‘Are you ready to sign for us?’

Meg nodded her consent dejectedly. Alice looked expectantly at Joan who cut the twice-bound stocking with her small scissors. When the gag came at last out of her mouth Meg experienced another minute of coughing and shaking before she could face the abductors. By then, the small sheaf of documents had been laid out on the table in front of her with the first page open ready to be signed.

Joan busied herself with Meg’s bonds. Meg’s elbow ties were freed, but her left arm was rebound above the elbow and the binding cord that held it was wound about her body. Joan did the same when Meg’s wrists were freed, so that the left wrist remained tied at the small of Meg’s back, anchored there by a body rope. The crotch rope stayed in place. None of its ties were affected by the untying of Meg’s arms or wrists.

‘Signing a document is something that anyone can do with one hand tied behind their back,’ quipped Alice, who was attending to the papers. ‘If you do this with no fuss, I’ll change your gag to one a little more comfortable. A pen please Joan dear.’

It did not take long for Meg to sign the two pages of the agreement, after which her arms were once again bound behind her and Alice escorted her into the bedroom. It was a pre-arranged division of labour between Joan and Alice. Joan headed for the room where Mignon stood bound and gagged against the thick post.

It was time once again for bathroom privileges. As Joan lifted away the last of the ropes that bound Mignon to the post, the young woman almost fell. But Joan caught her and lowered her to the floor. Mignon was allowed to kneel there while the rest of her bonds were loosed and then removed altogether from her arms and body.

‘Can you stand?’

‘I- I think so,’ replied Mignon as she massaged her limbs back to life.

When she was standing shakily in front of Joan, the older woman plucked disdainfully at the flimsy silk slip she was wearing and ordered peremptorily, ‘This can come off now. You shan’t need it tonight ... One of Joan’s Rules about no clothes,’ she added as Mignon pulled down the straps of the slip ad allowed it to fall around her feet.

Mignon stepped out of the rumpled circle of white and now stained silk and looked up at Joan.

‘Off you go. Fifteen minutes for a quick shower.’

Mignon ignored Joan’s recitation of Rules Two and Seven and stumbled thankfully to the bathroom. The make-up so carefully lavished on her gurgled down the plughole of the shower recess in multi-coloured streamlets.

Mignon bravely ignored the embarrassment of standing naked in front of her captor as she turned and presented her arms dutifully behind her back.

‘Wh- What do you plan to do with us after Meg’s signed those papers?’

‘She’s already signed off, Ducks. And now it’s your turn.’

‘Will you let us go?’

‘That’s for Mistress Alice to decide. Now, hold still. You shan’t require both hands for the signing.’

Mignon obeyed and Joan gathered her arms together. The young woman shivered as she felt the rope being passed around her upper arms.

‘Keep still!’ Joan ordered sternly.

‘S- Sorry.’

The cord was looped several times around Mignon’s upper arms but they were not yet drawn back together as the young woman expected. Instead, Joan tied the cinch off loosely and transferred her attention to Mignon’s left hand, fastening the end of another piece of cord around her wrist and anchoring it to the small of her back with a few quick wrists about her waist. Mignon arms were tied behind her, her left arm useless at her back, but with sufficient freedom of movement in her right forearm to allow her to bring that hand around to the front.

Joan walked Mignon to one of the shelves where stood a Medieval helmet, pushed the headgear aside, and substituted an official-looking document in its place. Mignon’s hand was guided to the shelf - she had to stand sideways and lean away from it for her hand to reach - and a pen was placed in the fingers of her right hand.

‘Right, deary. Sign off and it will all be done.’

Mignon looked at Joan. ‘You will let us free?’

‘When we’ve done the business with our rather accommodating lawyer, yes.’

With her heart in her mouth, Mignon signed at the places indicated, then let the pen drop from her fingers as though it was a hot coal. Joan took up the papers, folded them into a sheaf, and slid them into a flat briefcase.

‘That’s better, dear. Now I’ll get you ready for the night.’

The rope was pulled tight and Mignon’s elbows touched once again. ‘You really are a sweetie,’ continued Joan as she unconnected Mignon’s left arm from the waist tie and bound both her wrists together. ‘I can understand what Meg sees in you. And I hate to carry disappointing news. But you’re both in for a shock. Did you honestly think that we’re setting you free after tomorrow?’

‘Y- You promised. That’s part of the agreement!’

‘Agreements, like some rules, are made to be broken, or at the least modified. But I’m tired of your questions. Open wide.’

Mignon complied, and Joan produced the same half mask that had been used on her before. The large pear-shaped plug of soft leather was forced between Mignon’s teeth until it filled the front of her mouth. When the side and forehead straps were buckled tight, Mignon was muted once again, able merely to grunt softly through the gag.

With practiced fingers, Joan completed the cotton bindings around Mignon’s torso, squeezing her breasts up and outwards. She lashed Mignon’s forearms to her body around her breasts, cinched those ropes, and passed a double twisted crotch rope between the helpless girl’s legs. Mignon’s body arched backwards as the soft cotton rope was tightened until it bit in between her labia.

Mignon had worn the arm sheath with the crotch strap on the previous night. But now, when the cord had been drawn in between the captive’s sweet clefts, the ends were tied instead to her wrist bonds as an extra cinching. When they were drawn tight, the backs of the young woman’s hands were pressed firmly against the upper cleft of her buttocks, making the whole arrangement into a restraint device with unintended consequences. At least so Mignon thought at the moment. Later she had time to appreciate Joan’s wickedly erotic sense of humour. Every time Mignon took a step, her arms strained upwards against their bonds because of the natural motion of her body, causing the soft cotton to continually tease the delicate and sensitive folds of her labia and the deeper tissues.

Soon additional ties were in place above her knees, and around her thighs, and her ankles hobbled. Mignon followed Joan as she led the way out into the living room and towards the bedroom where she knew Meg would be waiting, bound and gagged similarly on the narrow bed.

Every step she took sent a delicious stab of heat through Mignon’s body, making her shiver with pleasure as her breasts tingled, responding to the pressure of the cords around them and to the deep massage of the cotton rope below. Although she wanted more than anything to escape from their captors, the young woman found herself looking forward to another night bound on the cot with Meg.

When she came to the threshold of the bedroom door, Mignon saw Alice bending over Meg, adjusting the mask with its in-built gag that covered her friend’s face. Meg lay on her side on the narrow cot, She was no longer wearing her body stocking, and her torso, which was as naked as Mignon’s, was indented with an intricate crisscrossing of cotton ropes. Meg’s legs were bound just as Mignon’s were, but with her ankles fastened securely together. A crotch-tie was again in place, and from the sight of her face, flushed under the leather half-mask, Mignon guessed that her wrists were tied to the other end of the crotch rope in the same way that hers were tied. Meg’s shortness of breath and the wild look in her eyes could not be entirely a result of her gag, thought Mignon with empathy.

But their captors had one more cruelly erotic torture to inflict upon their helpless prisoners. Mignon was lowered onto the bed beside Meg, her hobbles removed and her ankles tied together. They were bound body to body but in reverse, in what is called soixante-neuf, the Number 69 position. Meg’s face was close up against Mignon’s honey-gold Mound of Venus. Mignon’s face lay against Meg’s soft black downy hair. And, by stretching, one woman could press her gagged face against the labial clefts of her friend that were already being teased beyond endurance by the crotch ties every time they were activated by wrist or body movements. Mignon could feel Meg’s breasts against her abdomen and vice versa. Their legs either extended straight out or were bent slightly to form the corresponding tails of the numerals.

Thought Mignon in an agony of mind, How on earth will I ever get through this night?