Descent Into Darkness (2 page)

What was he doing? Why had he pushed her onto her side? She heard the tearing of tape while he balled her fingers, trapping them around a cold, hard object.

Before her thoughts could catch up with the veer of events, layers of tape were wound around and around her balled fist, sealing the unknown item within it while at the same time removing any possible use of her hand. When he grabbed her other wrist, Katarina started to struggle – an already forlorn attempt to retain the use of that one free hand. Constrained as she was though, with the handcuffs already locking her wrists together in a steel embrace, there was no escape. Relentlessly, Immelmann wound her second hand into a mirror of the first after once again pressing a hard object into her palm, ultimately leaving both useless.

Her arms ended now in club-like stumps, the latex tape blending smoothly into the obsidian sheen of her catsuit. ‘Too much, this was too much,’ her head screamed. The well-stoked fire in her loins prevented her from making a sound though as the thrill of her position sent frissons of excitement cavorting throughout her body. She lay there, barely comprehending the situation as she felt a cold metal band circle her arm above the elbow. The ratcheting sound told her that once again she was being cuffed and as her other arm was drawn towards the first, the closure of a second band welded elbow to elbow.

Why didn't she struggle more? Why didn't she object? Her head demanded answers to these and many other questions. Throughout though, they remained unspoken while her body yielded to events. Katarina desperately started to reason with herself. This was part of the prep, the scene setting to get her in the right mood to give her the best launch for her career. Yes, she trusted this man and needed his goodwill as the foundation to stardom. She would not resist. She would allow him to continue. She would be famous.

The strain on her shoulders was not uncomfortable and she ignored the pressure as she looked down to see her breasts thrusting forward over the restraint of the corset, her posture perfected by her newly cuffed elbows. The position he was manipulating her into really was showing her at her best, she could see that now. She was sure she would blow the readers away with this final picture - a picture of jet black gleaming beauty, a beauty bound for their delight and bound for fame and fortune.

Still behind her, she felt him moving her restrained arms, and heard him inserting a key into the lock of the first cuffs, opening them and freeing her wrists, their job done for now. Wondering if he had had a change of heart, she tried to turn her head to reward him with a smile but the tough leather of her posture collar held her facing forward, the snap of stretched latex giving only the merest hint towards the next stage of her ongoing incarceration.

She was okay with this, she really was. Inwardly Katarina repeated it again to reassure herself. She fluttered the stumps that had once been hands in what she assumed was his direction, eager to touch, to show him she understood. Perhaps she could stroke along his leg or perhaps Lady Luck would guide her to another part of him.

Struggling with her balled fist, he tugged and pulled it into another layer of latex, working it up and over her wrist before pulling it up to the cuffs above her elbows. The process was repeated on her other arm, trapping her already useless hands in latex mitts, removing any last hope of use.

The cuffs clicked back around her wrists, once again joining them, locking the mitts on her. He repeated the process with her elbow cuffs, first unlocking then removing them before drawing the latex mitts further up her arms and reapplying them to return her to the flattering captive posture she knew would be enjoyed.

Reaching almost to her shoulder, she smelt the unexpected odour of adhesive and furrowed her brow as she tried to imagine what he was doing now. Even in her wildest dreams though, she would not have correctly guessed as he glued the mitts to her catsuit, the silicon welding the two together, sealing her within her sculpted latex prison.

Immelmann didn't talk now. He didn't reassure her as he saw no need. There was no going back and no effective resistance she could conjure up. Going into his bag once again, he smiled as his need to control found its wings. Retrieving the leather armbinder, he held it up in preparation for its application to this beauty before him who had allowed herself to be trussed up to better suit his tastes.

The fitting of the armbinder startled Katarina. This was
too
much. It wasn't necessary to restrain her like this. The armbinder would hide the other layers of bondage while the multiple layers made it clear that this was no longer cosmetic. No, this was real and she was in trouble. She opened her mouth to scream but as she did, she felt the armbinder drop away as a rubber mass was crammed against her lips, trapping them against her teeth and causing her to cry out in pain and protest. The involuntary cry was all the opportunity he needed and, as her mouth opened, he pulled back hard on the straps, fitting the rubber cock deep into her mouth.

It completely filled her mouth, there could have been no more effective way of silencing her. In increasing frenzy, she explored the new intruder with her tongue as she desperately tried to cry out but heard nothing except the faintest protest. The simulated veins on this invader disgusted her with their reality. She had taken men in her mouth before but it wasn't really her thing, a woman's breast was a far more pleasurable experience. Now though she had no choice as the leather cover crushed her lips against her teeth. She felt him pull the leather strap tightly through a buckle. Yet another click told her the familiar story of permanence and the absolute futility of her position. There was nothing she could do and sucking for comfort, the salinity of the rehydration fluids in the bladder within the cock assaulted her taste buds and trickled down her throat.

Satisfied with her silence, Immelmann returned to fitting the armbinder. This time she struggled, jagging her arms left and right to at least demonstrate some resistance and slow the process of the inevitable. Bands were tightened first round her wrists, pressing the steel handcuffs still further into her flesh. A second band was tightened below her elbows. A third just above as her arms were sealed together inside a triangle of unyielding leather. Each band was buckled so tightly, melding her arms into one.

She flapped her useless arms around behind her. She wasn’t sure what her aim was but Katarina knew she had to demonstrate at least the symbol of resistance, belated as it was. A pinch to her nose quickly stopped even this. Impossible to breathe through her mouth and already robbed of breath by the crushing grip of the corset; the fear of blacking out froze her.

“Be still girl!” he commanded. No more a velvet caress, the authority in his voice was now clear and unforgiving. She would not struggle. There was no point. She didn’t want to anger him. She was vulnerable so, with immense force of will, she stilled herself, laying there bound before him.

A strap flapped over her shoulder and was threaded through the waiting buckle. Repeating the process on the other side, the armbinder was now firmly anchored to her. There was no chance of it sliding off and no chance of her pushing it off. He was leaving nothing to even hint of escape and she cooperated as best she could as he brought her back up to a sitting position.

The glint of metal descended into her field of vision, passing lower until it nestled between her breasts from a chain. “That key will remain on view girl,” he sneered in a whispered threat. “It is the key to your gag in case anyone wants to use your mouth.” She had the final confirmation now from his own lips. This had gone beyond a photo shoot. This was for real and her thoughts fizzed between cascades of excitement and fear, quickening her pulse and causing her to struggle still further to draw breath to service her heightened state.

“Just one thing to go now girl,” he whispered quietly, pressing into her body, causing her to lean forward and the corset to bite still deeper into her ribs. The simple act of breathing took all her focus now, all thoughts of struggle having already evaporated. Katarina felt something pushed into each ear, causing the normal ambient sounds of the room to disappear behind an impenetrable wall of white noise.

First he'd stolen her athleticism, then her ability to resist, her voice and now finally he'd taken her hearing. She was sealed in a world of fuzzy interference, robbed of any hope of communication as he pressed a fixing wax into each ear canal. Deathly efficient in the removal of any input, another of her senses was now his. The pain of discomfort racked her body, dulling any sense of touch. Even her sense of smell was being consistently assaulted by the heady cocktail of latex, leather and the aroma of her own building desire. Katarina’s sight remained the only sensory input left.

Pulling her to her feet, she balanced for the first time in the cruel heels. Her ankles fought to minutely correct and re-correct against the give in the deep carpet which, just ten minutes before, she had viewed as luxurious. Now it was simply torturous. To some it was a challenge to stand erect in high heels but one
she
had easily mastered. This were different though. With no arms to aid her and her only way of breathing being in short shallow breaths, the concentration needed to stay upright was intense. Hands rested on her waist, guiding her forward in tentative steps to be positioned before the full length mirror.

She had been swept along by the process of her increasing bondage but now her predicament really hit home hard. Her seemingly endless legs were forced en pointe, locked into boots that she had no clue how she’d remove. The gleam of the latex shone bright, contrasting with the dramatic leather corset that pinched her waist to an almost impossible degree. Her breasts strained in their latex confinement as the position of her arms thrust them forward while the silver key draped from her neck contrasted against the jet of her catsuit.

Katarina looked into her own mirrored eyes, dampening now with the hopelessness of her situation. Vanity had first smoothed a path to take her out of her home country. Its twin horse, Ego, had been added to the chariot that she had ridden hell bent to where she now was propped and bound against the man that had hinted toward so much before simply taking everything.

As her gaze trailed downwards, she ran her eyes further over the reflection. Where her mouth would normally be seen smiling back in approval, the unwelcome leather pad instead hid the large rubber cock. She settled finally on the posture collar that held her head erect and immobile. The embossed word picked out in silver on a rectangular metal plate riveted to the front was to be a herald to her future. Confused, it took her a moment to realise that the reflected word was backwards and processing it in her head, the first layer of her self-esteem peeled away to the word eventually picked out: 'SLAVE'.

CHAPTER II - Preparation

His voice
broke in on her otherwise silenced world, “You are my slave,
girl.”
He paused, allowing the near silence to close around her again, his words to echo in her head as the only sound on which she could focus. Fear danced in Katarina’s eyes.

“You are offered one chance of freedom and one only.” He was in front of her now, cold eyes meeting her fear. “This is my offer to you.”

Her world returned to silence but for the hazy white noise. As she looked at the reflection of bondaged beauty, a single mirrored tear rolled down her cheek as she waited for his next words to break through the static. Though she was clad head to toe in latex and leather, she'd never felt so exposed, so naked.

“You know that the key hanging around your neck can unlock your gag, but the other keys are also close at hand,” he explained with a lilt of malevolent laughter and a playful twitch of a thick eyebrow. “There is a key taped in each of them. Of course they may as well be on the moon. You cannot get to them. Nobody can see them. You cannot ask for help or tell anyone just how close your release could be.”

The gravity of her situation leached into her core. Katarina started to squirm in her bonds, testing for at least some hope, some chance of a flaw in his planning, however small. She may as well have tried to run a world record marathon in her towering ballet boots though, it was equally pointless. She was trapped and totally under his control, a thought that filled her with dread and yet, on a deeper, carnal level, thrilled her to the root of her very being.

“Your left hand contains the key to one of your boots, the right to the other,” he continued. “Or perhaps they are elsewhere? It's so hard to remember. Maybe I have it wrong.” He squeezed the base of the armbinder that welded her arms together, reminding her of the possible location of the keys. Beneath the layers of leather, latex and tape that cocooned her arms though, all she felt was a vague pressure.

“There are other keys on you of course.” Another tear picked its way down her cheek. “They have already been placed. One taped to the inside of your corset. That's for your collar; you’d never have guessed it was there, would you?” Her breathing seemed that much more difficult.

“Oh, and the discomfort in your boot? Another key,” he revealed as he moved round in front of her, kneeling to squeeze the instep of her boot, causing the soft, buttery leather to press against the key which in turn dug into the soft sole of her foot. “As I recall, that one's for your corset.” He smiled, rising to face her. “You hold all the keys to your release girl. Isn't that comforting?” The smile was laden with irony and held no warmth, chilling her as the magnitude of his words sited themselves within her uncomfortably. His proximity emphasised his strong frame, imposing it on her. Her only choice was to look at him through her tear-rimmed eyes, now red with anguish.

“You'll make your mascara run girl,” he reminded her as he reached forward to wipe away an imaginary smudge with his thumb. Pressing just a little too roughly, he left her still immaculate makeup intact but with a legacy of discomfort.

“You still have to look good for the rest of the shoot,” he continued. Was this all part of it? Was the aim merely to make her live the role for the benefit of the shoot? Was her fear an overreaction? Hope pricked her as she looked at the handsome man smiling before her. Perhaps she had misread that smile too? She tried to smile back, as much in hope as in real belief. Her lips though would not move, crushed as they were behind the leather covering of her gag. Her eyes told their own story though and his own smile broadened in response.

“Good girl,” he offered as encouragement. Satisfied with the distraction of doubt he had sparked once again, he leaned forward and pushed her back. Walked backward by his hands, her knees crumpled and she fell onto the bed, crushing her useless arms beneath her. He gripped her shoulders and easily flipped her onto her front, pushing what little air she’d managed to inhale back out of her compressed lungs as she landed.

Winded now, she could offer no resistance as he grabbed her ankles and tugged her legs over the edge of the bed. Face down, knees on the floor and tortured by turmoil, she waited for his next move. She could feel his eyes boring into her, thirstily drinking in the look of jet black latex stretched over her shapely ass.

“You’re breath-taking, girl,” he offered as she started at the hand beginning to caress her ass, the intrusion of his voice once again exploding into her near-silenced world. His strong hand exploring, she lay there, frozen, unwilling and unable to move from his touch.

“I don't usually interact with my girls, but you ... well, you just scream for my touch,” he said as if it would vindicate his actions. Gliding his hand over her butt, he moaned slightly, a weakness revealed for the first time but short-lived. Catching himself, he withdrew his hand and slapped her hard, as much to refocus his attention as hers.

The sting of his hand burned her but she could not move, could not struggle. Deer in the headlights? No. compliance was the best way to get out of this in one piece so she laid still, both her ass and pride smarting from the abrupt slap.

Time seemed to stall as Katarina waited for what came next. Lying there, bent over the edge of the bed, vulnerable, controlled. The vibrant visions of her career were vaguer now, chased away by a far more immediate and horrible prospect. And yet that prospect didn't chill her as much as it perhaps should. Somehow it plugged directly into more basal urges to bind and be bound, to control and submit. The cocktail of feelings within her boiled. Dreading. Anticipating. Confused.

He rested on his haunches to take in the vision before him. It had been so uneventful, not the sport he'd hoped for. She'd been taken and trussed with an ease which surprised him. He'd expected at least
some
struggle. He knew she was a spirited girl and he would have liked to spend time taming her to a degree - the Taser in his pocket had been charged and was ready to use.

Yet the simplicity of each step had allowed him time to savour her in a way that he could not have imagined enjoying quite so much. He had slowly put this beauty into a position where she was undeniably his and as he pondered his next move, that thought inspired a satisfied smile to ease across his face.

Katarina was dragged back from her thoughts as she felt his finger at the lower part of the three way zip of her catsuit. He seemed to pause, was he unsure of himself at last? Her answer though came quickly as she felt the zip start to be drawn down, exposing her most sensitive areas to the chilled air of the room. She grunted, her tongue trapped by the thickly veined latex cock, as much at the shock of the cold as the thought of the motive for his latest and boldest intrusion.

Too much, this was too much. The thought careered around her head, bouncing, repeating and beckoning her body to react. No reaction came though as she felt him peel aside the latex protecting her modesty, revealing her most personal area to him.

An intimate touch, something now pressed against her. Katarina bit down on her gag. Slick with the forbidden thrill of her situation, she couldn’t resist as she felt herself being entered once, twice, three times, feeling fuller with each insertion. She detested it but she dare not resist. While hard, this was something cold and alien. Her mind focussed squarely on the things now within her as she raced to work out just what he was doing, breath quickening as she struggled to force air into her lungs past the corset which seemed to tighten with a will of its own.

A second harsh slap jolted her back to her new reality. Katarina bucked, feeling the alien intrusions in their full force. The liquid mercury within the benwa balls sloshed from side to side, pressing them against the walls of her cervix, lapping at her g-spot as the liquid settled back to rest. Bolts of electricity arrowed through her as nerve endings fired their joy at the sensation. The loud moan that found its way around her harsh gag was all that Immelmann needed to confirm that they would indeed fulfil their purpose.

As the motions of the heavy liquid eased, Katarina remained still before her new Master, for that is what she realised he now was. She had expected him to own her career but this was much more. For now he owned her body and perhaps her entire future. Master. The word tumbled around her head, the significance growing with each echo. She was his slave, his girl, his property now to do with as he pleased.

A gentle warm hand on her butt started to ease the sting of his strike, cajoling the blood to return with a tender massage that even a lover would be proud to give. Her tense body started to relax to his touch as she revelled in the attention he was now bestowing on her, luxuriating in the feeling as she felt him run something back and forth against her, once again sending delightful frissons through her body.

That same relaxation made his next act all the more shocking as she felt the tip of something hard and inhuman slide along her sex to rest against her sphincter. Immediately she tensed, only encouraging him to push harder. She'd been disgusted when her last boyfriend had suggested anal and almost physically kicked him out of her apartment. It had served to crystallise her preferences and in the eighteen months since, only women had been invited to share her bed.

His voice broke into her world once again. “Relax girl, you have lubricated it well and I will not be resisted.” Pressing harder Katarina felt the object enter her and with a strong insistent pressure, nudge further and further inside until her muscle naturally contracted around the narrowed base, nestling the butt plug deeply and resolutely within.

She was truly filled now with this new violation stuffing her abdomen, which was already compressed by the harsh embrace of the corset and filled with those balls. This was no longer the thrilling game Katarina thought it might evolve into as her anal sanctity had been trampled on, the realisation of which destroyed the dam. She could hold back no more and her tears streamed to the duvet beneath her.

Slowly, he drew the zip of her catsuit back down, careful not to nick any skin on his prize -
her
. As the tags met, a final padlock clicked shut and though she could not hear it, she knew almost instinctively now what he was doing.

“The key for that girl is the only one not on you,” he explained powerfully, manhandling her back upright onto the impossibly high heels. Clipping a leash to the ring in front of her collar, he started to tug her towards the door of the room.

Thoughts of being taken through the hotel horrified Katarina. She fought properly for the first time, leaning back and pulling against him with all the strength she could summon, desperate to remain within the relative haven that was her hotel room. With an increasing pressure on her neck, she felt herself being slowly dragged forward, heels snagging on the carpet. Her balance now her priority as the last semblance of dignity under her own control, she was unable to resist and was drawn inexorably towards the door by the chain attached to her neck.

“The remaining key is taped to the front wheel, carriage eight of the overnight express to the city. It leaves at .... oh, 5:30pm. That’s thirty minutes if you really want release. This is your single chance at freedom, girl. Reach the train, get the key and you are free. Fail and I keep you.”

The information hit her like a sledgehammer. The station was about two kilometres from her hotel; she knew that having walked from it yesterday when the bus dropped her off. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem but trussed as she was, time was already tight and her mind raced while he looped the leash over the hook on the back of the door, holding her in position.

The thick leather of her collar prevented her watching as Immelmann strode into the bathroom but the cold of the water he poured over the leather laces in her corset and boots heralded his return.

“The water will shrink the laces. It will make your journey all the more interesting as your corset and boots grip you all the tighter,” he explained in the same matter of fact way he would explain directions to a stranger on the street. The attention to every detail of her discomfort led her further down towards despair and as the excess water pooled onto the carpet, he prepared her for the world that waited beyond the door.

First sunglasses were put carefully over her eyes; those outsize Jackie Onassis ones that had been resurrected by misguided fashionistas, large and dark enough to cover the many secrets that her eyes could reveal. This was followed by a large bulky coat that shapelessly covered her, hiding both her stunning figure and her dire situation beneath a shroud from neck to ankle, the arms cleverly stuffed and then stitched into the side pockets to resemble her own.