FINDERS KEEPERS, PART TWO
By Docman
With a sigh of utter bliss, Katarina let herself sink slowly into the roiling waters of the jacuzzi. She might have slept in places as varied as the Yucatan jungle and the frozen wastes of Greenland, the dark-haired adventuress did love her luxuries. This was why she didn’t mind spending a little extra to have a private jacuzzi in her hotel room. The doors were locked and her extra security measures were in place, which meant she could finally relax and luxuriate to her heart’s content. So she lay back in the oversized tub, letting the hot, bubbling waters soothe her tormented muscles.
She frowned in reluctant recollection of why her muscles, and other parts of her body, hurt so much. Titania’s rope work in old crypt had done an excellent job in straining her arms and legs to their utmost, while wriggling between the descending spikes had left her bruised and scratched in a number of uncomfortable places. Lifting her hands out of the water, Kat gazed speculatively at the marks the ropes had left on her wrists. She definitely owed Dominique and Titania some payback for this latest episode, she decided.
Thinking of her arch-rivals while lying back in the bubbling spa reminded her of the first time she had run afoul of Dominique’s thieving ways. That fateful encounter had occurred only two years ago when she was traveling about England. She had been hired to recover a rare first edition of Ivanhoe that had been stolen from a family descended from Sir Walter Scott.
Finding the whereabouts of the purloined book had not been difficult, thanks to the information garnered by Alison and Jill. Alison Palmer was a companion from her days at the university, and what she didn’t know about computers and technology wasn’t worth knowing. Jillian—“Jill”—St. Clare was a more recent acquaintance of Kat’s. As an Interpol agent, Jill had numerous contacts on both sides of the law. It was Jill who first told Kat about Dominique, the chief suspect in the theft of the book. “She’s a very dangerous lady,” the scarlet-haired agent had warned, “and she’s completely unscrupulous. We’ve lost several good agents trying to track her down.”
The thought of danger, however, just whetted Kat’s appetite. She was self-conscious enough to admit it: she was an adventure-junkie. You really couldn’t do her kind of work and not be addicted to risk-taking. That didn’t mean she was foolhardy, however, just confident of her own abilities and skills. When she found she was lacking in knowledge or information, she knew where to turn: Alison Palmer. With her command of computers and the Internet, Alison could track down virtually anyone from anywhere, based on a single credit card transaction or a phone call.
In a surprisingly-short time, Alison had pinpointed Dominique’s location. The wily thief had put the stolen book up for auction on the black market, and the bidding was hot and heavy. Kat knew she had to act fast, or she’d have to chase the book halfway across the world. According to Alison’s information, Dominique was holed up in a penthouse apartment, using the facade of being a respectable art dealer as her cover. Posing as a potential buyer, Kat was able to gain access to Dominique’s lair, long enough to memorize the layout and to deduce where the book was hidden.
Later that night, Kat found herself creeping carefully up the side of the building, from the twentieth to the twenty-second floor, where Dominique had her penthouse. For someone who had free-climbed El Capitan in Yosemite, climbing the brick-faced wall with its regularly spaced crevices was as easy as climbing up a ladder. Once she reached the penthouse, it was merely a matter of prying open a window and slipping inside. In her skin-tight catsuit of black spandex, Kat blended in with the darkness. Her head was covered with a tight black hood, the eyelets of which were equipped with special lenses to allow her to see in the dark almost as well as her feline namesake.
From her visit earlier in the day, the intrepid adventuress knew the basic layout of Dominique’s apartment. Her bedroom and living quarters were in the front part of the building, while the study and gallery took up most of the rear. Padding along almost silently on her soft-soled shoes, Kat ignored the gallery and made her way to the study. Tall bookshelves of polished wood covered three of the four walls, while the fourth wall was mostly glass, providing a beautiful view of the city during the day. At this time of night, the windows were covered with thick velvet curtains.
Feeling relatively safe, Kat pulled off her hood and stuck it in her belt. She switched on the banker’s lamp on the desk, then began looking around. The bookshelves weren’t merely for show, she realized. There must have been thousands of volumes, most printed in English but a number printed in Latin, French, German, and half a dozen other languages as well. There was a collection of Italian erotica that made her fingers itch, and she had to take herself firmly in hand. First things first, she told herself. Let’s find that book!
It was right where she thought it would be: stuck in amongst a full collection of the works of Sir Walter Scott. Shades of ‘The Purloined Letter,’ she mused, sliding the book out from its fellows. Placing the thick volume on the desk, Kat whipped out a magnifying glass. There were a number of identifying marks, not to mention certain errata in the text itself, that would identify the book as the one she was looking for.
So engrossed was Kat in her study of the book that she didn’t realize she was no longer alone, until a cold, hard, circle of steel was pressed against the side of her neck. “Good evening, cheri,” breathed Dominique. “It seems I have caught you in the act, no? I did not realize I had made such a grand impression on . . .”
Actions, Kat knew, didn’t just speak louder than words, they also spoke faster. She didn’t bother to wait for Dominique to complete her little speech, but instead reacted. Moving with the speed of a striking cobra she whipped around, smacking the gun away from her neck with backhanded slap, then following up with a stiff-armed punch with the heel of her hand. Dominique staggered back with a very unlady-like curse, but before she could raise the gun again Kat caught her with a solid roundhouse kick to the jaw. The auburn-haired thief hit the floor with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, out cold.
“So much for being caught in the act,” Kat said smugly, bending over the unconscious woman. Dominique had evidently been sleeping, for she was dressed only in a long, silk dressing gown over some of the most scandalously scanty lingerie that Kat had ever seen. “These little nothings definitely fit into the ‘why bother’ category,” Kat snickered, then set about slicing the expensive robe into long strips.
Turning Dominique onto her stomach, Kat pulled her hands together behind her back and used one of the silk strips to bind her wrists tightly together. Another strip was used to tie her ankles, and then Kat pulled her feet up behind her and tethered them to her wrists, pulling the shapely thief’s body into a taut and uncomfortable hogtie. Dominique groaned, consciousness slowly returning. Quickly rolling up one of the silk strips into a thick, stubby cylinder, Kat thrust it in into the semi-conscious woman’s mouth, securing it in place with yet another long strip knotted tightly between her teeth. “That should hold you for now,” the black-clad adventuress announced, patting Dominique’s shapely derriere.
“Rrrrgh!” Now fully conscious, the beautiful thief glared up at her smirking captoress. “Mmmph!”
“Now, now, don’t fret,” Kat admonished her. “You stole this book, remember? I’m just returning it to its proper owners. Finders keepers, you know.” Picking up the fallen gun, she shook her head in mock dismay. “Honestly, a derringer in this day and age! Are you still living in the 1890's, girl?”
“Arrrggllff!” Dominique squirmed and twisted in her silken bonds, her eyes burning holes in Kat’s direction. If looks could incinerate, Kat knew she would be a little pile of cinders right now.
Turning back to the book, Kat finished her examination. This was definitely the first edition she was after. Tucking the book under her arm, she sketched a mocking salute at the bound and gagged woman lying on the floor. “Until next time, Ms. Chandeaux. Sorry to leave you like this, but I’m sure you’ll manage to wriggle free eventually. Au revoir, ‘ma cheri.’”
Leaving Dominique to twist and struggle in impotent fury, Kat exited the penthouse and returned to her hotel. She stayed just long enough to pack her bags, then checked out and headed out of the city. In cases like this, experience had taught her that it was best to get the merchandise back to the owner as soon as possible, lest anything happen to interfere with the return. Two days later, she was knocking on her client’s front door, and ten minutes after that she was driving off with a sizable cheque in her possession.
“Another job well done, Kat m’girl,” she congratulated herself. “Time for a little R and R at Greystoke Havens.”
Greystoke Havens was a very expensive and very exclusive health spa, and one of Kat’s favorite post-caper destinations. She was looking forward to several days of massages, mineral baths, herbal wraps, and gourmet food. Turning her red Mini over to one of the hovering valets, she breezed into the main lobby, where the creamy-skinned girl behind the front desk beamed up at her. “Welcome back, Miss Lance! Shall I place you in your usual suite?”
“Yes, please,” Kat replied. “I would like to order a bottle of Dom Perignon, a bowl of freshly-sliced Bartlett pears, chilled, and two cups of your special house yogurt.”
The girl behind the desk made a few quick notes on the clipboard in front of her. “I’ll take care of it immediately, Miss Lance. Please enjoy your stay at Greystoke.”
Kat smiled. “I always do.”
Once she had finished her snack, Kat went out to the stables and selected a spirited stallion. Riding was one of her guilty pleasures, and she spent an enjoyable afternoon exploring the fields and woods surrounding the Greystoke estate. Dusk was beginning to fall when she finally returned to her suite. As was her usual post-riding routine, she decided to do a session in the spa’s famous whirlpool baths before dinner.
Stripping off her riding habit and undergarments, Kat pulled on her favorite “barely there” bikini. The little satin triangles of the top barely covered her full, round breasts, and as for the bottom part of the suit, well, this was one of those times to be grateful for electrolysis. Kat stood in front of the mirrored doors of her closet and turned from side to side, admiring the way the tiny bikini showed off her generous curves to their best advantage.
Slipping on one of the resort’s soft cotton robes, she padded eagerly down to the baths. The women’s locker room was empty except for the attendant, who smiled and nodded as Kat came in. “Room Five is available,” she said, offering Kat a thick white towel.
“Thanks,” Kat replied, accepting the towel and heading down the marble-tiled corridor. Room Five was at the end of the hall, separated from the other baths by a door that led to the pumps. When Kat opened the door, however, she was surprised to see another woman seated at the edge of the bubbling spa. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily, “I was told this room was available.”
Clad in a black, one-piece swimsuit, the woman stood up, adjusting the towel wrapped around her head. Turning to face Kat, she smiled broadly. “Not to worry, ma cheri. I have been waiting just for you.”
“Dominique Chandeaux!” Kat raised her hands defensively and started to back up. Suddenly she felt something touch the back of her neck, and heard a loud crackling sound. In an instant every muscle in her body locked up, and then she collapsed. Dominique caught her before she hit, lowering her to the floor. Paralyzed, unable to speak to move, Kat saw the blond attendant from the locker room standing over her, a black rubber “stun gun” in one hand. The attendant smiled and pressed a button, and sparks leaped between the two steel electrodes at the end of the gun, accompanied by a snapping, crackling sound.
“Allow me to introduce my partner, Titania,” Dominique explained, standing over the fallen heroine with her hands on her shapely hips. “She is a former professional wrestler, and is very devoted.” Her face suddenly twisted with malice, and the gloating thief reached down and grabbed a handful of Kat’s thick, dark hair, lifting her head painfully from the floor. “Bad enough that you steal my prize away, connasse, but you also humiliate me, leave me tied up for my partner to find! Titania and I, we will show you what the tying up is all about, oui?”
With her voice and muscles still paralyzed by the vicious shock she’d received, Kat was helpless to resist as the two women produced coils of rope and set about binding her into submission. First her elbows were drawn back and roped to each other behind her. Her wrists were then connected with ropes in front, drawing them tight against her waist and stomach. More ropes lashed her legs together at the thighs, knees, and ankles. Dominique and Titania forced her to kneel on the cold tiles, then tethered her ankles up to the ropes between her elbows.
“If you are wondering how I come to be here,” Dominique remarked, cinching the cords tight and knotting them, “the answer is very simple. I knew who had robbed me, and you are a creature of habit. Using my own sources, it was not so difficult to find out where you were going. So here we are, and here you are, and that . . . is . . . that!” She punctuated her last words with quick, hard jerks on the ropes.
As the cords bit painfully into her skin, Kat felt the shock beginning to wear off. “I knew you were a thief, Dominique,” she spat, “but up until now I didn’t think you were stupid! Don’t you understand how much trouble you’re going to be in, pulling a stunt like this in a place like Greystoke?”
“Ah, but it is you who do not understand, ma petite,” Dominique purred. “It is you who are in trouble, not I. Titania, you have the . . . articles?”
“Da, I have them,” the Russian woman replied, handing her partner a small bundle of cloth. “From three different lockers, like you said.”
“Excellent.” Crouching down in front of her tightly-bound captive, Dominique displayed what she held in her hands: three pairs of women’s panties. “Don’t they look nice, cheri?”
Kat swallowed hard. “And just what do you plan on doing with those?”
Dominique smiled wolfishly. “They are for keeping you silent, of course. We would not want you disturbing the other guests, no?”
“What?! Don’t you dare–oh! Ugh! Ulllggllmmff!” Kat’s cry of protest was instantly stifled as the cruel thief began to thrust the stolen panties into her mouth. Titania held the prisoner’s head still while the wadded undergarments were pushed into her mouth, one after the other, until Kat’s cheeks bulged alarmingly from the stuffing. Producing a rolled elastic bandage, Dominique began to wind it around and around the struggling woman’s head, first wedging the strip of cloth between her teeth and then pulling it tightly across the lower half of her face. When she was finished, she used two strips of waterproof tape to fasten down the end of the bandage at the back of Kat’s head. The elastic strip bound the panties securely inside her mouth, muffling her loudest cries to tiny grunts and whimpers.
“Ah, this is the proper way to bind and gag a girl, oui?” Dominique exulted. “You cannot move, you cannot make a sound, can you?” Again her face twisted with anger. “But there is much worse in store for you, oh, so much worse! No one interferes with Dominique Chandeaux and lives! Titania!”
To Kat’s surprise, the Russian woman stripped off her white coat, revealing that beneath it she wore a black swimsuit similar to her partner’s. In revealing this, she also revealed a bosomy figure even more spectacularly endowed than Kat’s own buxom form. Even in the midst of her distress, the young adventuress couldn’t suppress an envious glance at the blond woman’s swelling orbs.
The next moment, however, Kat found that she had much more to occupy her attention. She was hoisted into the air by her two captoresses, and carried down into the spa. The pumps had been turned off so that the water was no longer bubbling and roiling, but it was still uncomfortably hot. Struggling helplessly against her bonds, she was lowered into the water until she was kneeling on the bottom of the round, shallow pool, the water reaching up to her neck.
“There now, you are all nice and snug!” Dominique enthused, helping Titania to climb out of the tub. The Russian woman scooped a chilled bottle of beer from a nearby open cooler. Gripping the top of the bottle between her powerful jaws, she popped the cap off with a quick jerk of her head, then spat the bottle cap derisively in Kat’s direction, bouncing it off her head.
Dominique waggled her finger admonishingly at her partner. “No, no, Titania! It is not fair to mock an enemy when she is helpless, especially when she is about to face her doom.”
Kat’s ears pricked up at this. Her doom? That doesn’t sound good.
“These spas are a wonderful way to relax, are they not?” Dominique ran her foot lightly through the still waters of the pool. “The heating system has a special device, called a ‘governor,’ that prevents the water from getting too hot. Unfortunately for you, ma petite, my oh-so-clever partner has disabled the governor for this pool.” Turning to the wall-mounted controls, the wily thief twisted a knob and adjusted a couple of dials. “That should do it,” she said, nodding with satisfaction as the spa’s jets and bubbles came to frothy life.
Smiling wickedly, she bent down to speak to Kat. “Let me explain what is going to happen to you, my pet. You are the missionary’s daughter, I am the cannibal queen, and this is my cooking pot! I have set the spa controls so that the temperature of the water will rise five degrees every sixty seconds. The current temperature is 95 degrees. In five minutes, it will be at 120. In ten, 145. By that time, of course, you will already be badly scalded. I assume you will be unconscious long before the water temperature reaches boiling. By the time you are found, ma cheri, I am afraid there will be nothing left but . . . soup.”
Dominique rose with a final smirk. “But of course, since you are such an expert with the binding, you will be able to free yourself long before that happens, oui? Bonne chance, Ma’amselle Lance! Or should I say, bon appétit?” Laughing, she strode from the chamber, accompanied by her snickering partner. The door closed firmly behind the two of them, and Kat heard the lock click sharply into place.
Squirming around in her bonds, Kat gazed up helplessly at the spa controls. The controls included a bright red digital readout of the water temperature, and her heart thudded fearfully in her chest as she watched the digits advance: 98 . . . 99 . . . 100 . . .