Chapter 5: "The Pearson Shot"
==========================

Caroline was unsurprisingly exactly where I'd left her. She had been
in the same position for nearly ninety minutes and was obviously
suffering. I released her legs and then carried her back to the
cell. Once there I stripped off the boots and stockings and gently
massaged her legs until I was sure she was ok. She was still gagged
with the harness and her arms were still tied to the rod. I went and
collected some cotton rope and a few other things from the cabinet.
On returning I replaced the boots locking them back in place with the
simple fixings attached to the zippers. The stockings I left off
because to be honest they badly needed cleaning.

I liked Caroline's naked body but gloves and high heels make a lot of
sense as a slave uniform. For starters they stop the bonds
chafing wrists and ankles and thus make the slave more comfortable.
Both are additional bonds; high heels make an excellent hobble and the
glove's reduce the finger's tactile sense and dexterity which is
always useful. In addition the gloves also mean that you don't need
to worry about your slave leaving fingerprints lying around. If for
example I was burgled and the police dusted for prints I wouldn't have
to explain why those of a missing coed were in my house.

And of course they look sexy.

I used the cord to tie Caroline's legs together making tight cuffs of
rope around her ankles and above and below her knees. In all cases I
clinched the cord tightly to ensure she couldn't move. Next after
warnings about talking I removed the harness and replaced her
collar. She wiggled a bit as I removed the earplugs but then waited
patiently as I released her wrists. She looked up with large doe eyes,

the image of a disgraced sheepdog. I threw her a large sponge ball.

"Gag yourself."
She picked up the ball and looked at it doubtfully.
"You removed the last one without permission, from now on you're
responsible for being gagged. You'll put it in and you'll ensure it
stays there! You have thirty seconds or you have another punishment
session."
Argument was useless and she'd been ordered to keep quiet. She paused
for only a second then did something she had never done in her life
before, with hands trembling she started to cram the hard
sponge ball into her mouth. It proved to be quite a struggle as the
ball was the largest I had. Finally however it was firmly in place a
large phosphorescent yellow mass completely filling her mouth. I
wondered for a moment if the people at Nerf had ever thought of
marketing their product for this use then I casually tossed her a long
length of white cotton cloth. "Tie it in place, good and
tight." With my encouragement she placed the cloth band between her
teeth and pulled it tight. I got her to tighten it until her cheeks
bulged over the white cotton band and the horrid yellow ball was
completely covered then I had her knot it firmly behind her head.
Finally I tied her gloved arms as I had her legs and stood back to
admire the view.

Call me old fashioned but there is something about a girl tied with
rope that always reminds me of Saturday morning serials. Modern
restraints are good, I couldn't hope to keep Caroline as secure as I
do without them, but they lack a certain spontaneity. In the old
serials the young heroine would stumble on the villain's plan and end
up tied with rope and gagged with a handkerchief struggling on the
floor. Rope and cloth are common, you could imagine the villain
digging some up on the spur of the moment but ballgags, cuffs and the
like aren't the sorts of things you find just lying about. So
Caroline lay struggling like the Republic heroines of a bygone age,
the difference being that "King of the Rocket Men" was not about to
save her.

Rather than fasten the wire to her collar I decided to try another
device. I stroked her exposed breasts listening to the renewed moans
from behind her gag. When each nipple was good and hard I fastened a
little clamp on it and tightened it with a small hex wrench. Once in
place the clamp could only be removed with the tool. A chain was
attached to the clamps and this I fastened to the bed frame. She
watched silently the message clear, to keep her nipples intact she
would have to lie quietly on the bed.

"These are only temporary," I said reassuringly as I wiggled the
chain.
"They'll do until I can have you pierced." Her eye's flashed open in
shock and a startled sound erupted from her gagged mouth.
"Well, I told you the consequences of attacking me," I said, "I'm
thinking of a little gold ring for each nipple and maybe one for your
nose." She shook her head and made muffled sounds. For the first
time since she got here she really struggled against her bonds, but
the ropes held firm. I ignored her but reached down between her legs.
"Maybe a couple down here," I said slipping my hand inside the
panties. She looked horrified at the prospect. I smiled sweetly and
cranked the vibrator up a notch.
"Have fun!" I said and left bolting the door behind me.

By now I was sure she was almost ready, she was tired, hungry and very
frightened. Further she knew that she needed to get back in my good
books as soon as she could if she was to avoid mutilation. I let her
stew a while longer and prepared a light meal. As I ate I went through
the list of models I'd compiled. There was quite some variety
ranging from obvious professionals to girls who only worked part time
for the local agencies spending their days serving behind shop
counters or in restaurants. Vicky, the girl I'd initially selected,
had been in what the manager had called his "Blue book" which was
apparently for girls who didn't go through an agency. I had mixed
feelings about this, on the one hand I wanted as little record of our
relationship as possible but at the same time I needed her to be
professional. Too much time can be wasted with an inexperienced
model. In the end I risked it and gave her a call. I got her machine
meaning she probably had a day job so I left the barest details and
asked that she call me back. Then I pressed on with the plan. I
found Caroline's makeup box amongst the things I'd taken from her
apartment. For a girl who sold makeup she had a surprisingly limited
range. Fortunately Samantha had left a lot of things behind when she
moved out. An assistant editor at Vogue must receive a lot of free
makeup samples because even the small box she had forgotten was packed
to the brim with lipsticks, blushers and eye makeup. Sam had also
left behind one of the dresses I'd bought her, a black silky evening
dress whose only crime was not coming from a major designer. I moved
them downstairs to the dungeon and added some things from the
wardrobe. Recovering the leather blindfold and the crop I returned to
the cell and removed the nipple clamps and the bindings for her legs.
Her nips were still red and engorged and obviously very sensitive. I
pulled her body over mine and placed one hand on her breast as I
removed the panties. I ran my hand over her nipple and made some
comment about silver being perhaps a better match for her complexion.
She lay helpless in my arms weakly shaking her head and attempted to
speak, her eyes large and frightened.

I looked down at her. "Your choice," I said, "The nipples or the
photo's." A look of relief spread across her face.
"You must realize slave that in order to account for your actions
yesterday there will be a penalty to pay. We will be taking a lot
more photo's than we would have had you behaved and they will
be a lot more explicit." She looked at the floor for a second
weighing up her alternatives then she looked up and nodded
eagerly. "You must follow my orders exactly, quickly and the best you
can understand?" Again the nod. "If I feel that you aren't giving me

what I want then the deals off." She nodded again. " IF I tell you to
smile while fucking a pig, you'll smile big and bright as if you
really enjoy it or tomorrow we fit you for a little extra jewelry,
understand?" Her eyes had bulged a little at the mention of a pig,
but she still nodded with vigorous energy.

After removing vibrator and buttplug I replaced the cloth with her
usual ballgag. I did it myself as I didn't want to untie her but I
made it clear that I would still hold her responsible for presence of
the gag then I fastened a leash to her collar. Reaching down I fitted
the hobble on her ankles and covered her large questioning eyes with
the blindfold. Then I led her upstairs. Once in the house I took her
up to a bathroom on the second floor where I removed the blindfold,
boots and hobble and helped her into the bath. Near the shower head
was a D ring set in the ceiling nominally used to hold up a shower
rack. With the rack removed the true purpose was apparent and I
locked her leash to it. She watched as I started to undress, getting
her first real look at my naked body. I'm not a big man, certainly
not by porn film standards but I'd been ignoring this erection for the
better part of two days. Now with the proximity of her helpless naked
body it came back with a vengeance. Her eyes bulged as it slapped
against my leg, I tried desperately to imaging people gutting fish (an
old trick my father told me to rapidly get out of the mood). Then I
stepped in behind her. For the first time in out relationship she was
wearing more than I was though I think the irony of this was lost on
her. I turned on the water letting it play over her head and down the
flanks of her body. The light here was better than in the dungeon and
I could clearly make out last summers bikini line. Almost as expected
she wasn't radical in her choice of swimwear and there were large
areas that had never seen sunlight. I left her for a moment letting
the water do it's work. Then I picked up a bottle of shampoo and
started to massage it into her thick mane of blond hair. My fingers
worked into her scalp in gentle smooth caresses....

Years ago when I was a student there had been a barbers shop just
off campus called Al's. Al had started the place back in '46 when he'd
finally been let out of the army. For thirty years Al's had 2
barbers chairs and 4 seats in the waiting room and in all that
time he'd never been overcrowded. Then in the summer of '78 he'd
taken on a girl called Maria to wash hair for him. Maria was
some relative from a distant part of Al's huge Italian family
wanting a little vacation money. She also knew the secret of
washing hair. She did it slow in gentle sweeps punctuated by heavy
washing, massaging the scalp with long strong sensitive fingers...
For the first time in thirty years Al's had to take bookings, with his
usual style Al bowed to the inevitable and bought another chair in the
waiting room. Maria proved very popular with the male students and was
invited to all the best campus parties for the rest of the year...

And Caroline, bound and gagged in my bathroom was now benefiting from
Maria's legacy, eyes closed, she moaned softly, as I shampooed her
hair. We rinsed, rewashed and conditioned, and I began to feel the
tension leaching from my slaves body. Right now her captivity was
forgotten, lost in a primal grooming ritual that was already hardening
her nipples. Then I moved on to the rest of her, spreading fragrant
shower gel on my hands and massaging it into her soft flesh. Her
small noises and the pattern of her breathing told me of her enjoyment
as I soaped her firm pert breasts. She had been encased in sweaty
rubber for the last few days and before that was the trip here in my
trunk now she was enjoying the sensation of being clean again. I
pulled her closer letting my hands follow the trim contours of her
athletic body. Suddenly I felt her gloved hand slide over my cock and
balls. I stiffened, thinking this was an attack but instead her
strong latex covered fingers started to play up and down my shaft.
I'd clinched her wrists so tightly that her hands were effectively one
unit. If she was playing with the head she was limited to the shaft
for the other hand but closer to the base she teased my balls with
deft flicks of her gloved fingertips. In response my hands moved down
into the silky smooth folds of her womanhood, feeling the heat
building there. She looked up at me with those large doe like, need
filled eyes, making little noises behind her gag, rubbing her wet
slippery body against mine. Begging for release, begging for...

But from the back of my mind came a little voice telling me that she
was playing me for a sap, thinking she could buy me off with a body I
already owned. Soon other voices chimed in reminding me that she'd had
something throbbing away in her holes for the best part of a day. Sure
she's horny, it said, and we can USE than.

So I pushed her away and continued to rub her down all the while
trying to imagine people gutting fish.

As slowly and erotically as I could I dried her and powdered her naked
body.  Styling her hair more difficult but in the end I had her rich
golden hair pinned up high on her head in the elegant slightly
conservative look that I needed.  All this time she gave me no trouble
and even when I replaced the boots, hobble and blindfold she seemed
content to let me manage her.  It was clear she was taking our deal
really seriously and didn't want to risk screwing it up.

I lead her back to the dungeon and locked the iron door behind me,
before attaching the collar to a ceiling ring near the table and
removing everything but the collar.

I slapped the crop on the table top next to a small pile of leather
clothing.
"Put them on slut."
"Yes Master." She was meek, enthusiastic and willing to please, in
fact willing to do anything but face the alternative. The outfit
consisted of a soft leather strapless corset and matching briefs, a
pair of normal  patent high heeled pumps, a pair of silk stockings and
a pair of black leather opera gloves.  She seemed almost happy as she
put them on.  She had intended to finish with the gloves but I stopped
her, hobbled her ankles and chained the collar to the table.  Next I
brought out the makeup.

"Ok slave make yourself pretty."
She looked confused, "But Master these aren't my colors..."
"They are now. Do it slave or maybe a flogging will persuade you?"
She started, a little hesitantly at first and I had to point out what
colors to use, but in the end she looked radiant confirming everything
I had seen in her that first day.  I had her put on the gloves, she
frowned a little when she discovered that the top three inches seemed
stiff but when I tapped the crop she speedily put them on. I had to
remove the collar before I  helped her into the black evening gown.
She was obviously confused wondering just why I would want to dress
her in this way.  Her ankles where still fastened to the chair but
with the collar gone this was the closest she'd been to freedom since
I took her.  I started to change that.  First up were the cuffs, thin
silver bands about an inch and a half wide that looked just like the
kind of bracelets some women wear over long gloves on social
occasions.  These however were the product of a fetish jeweler in San
Francisco, once closed a special tool was needed to remove them.  In
addition each had a tiny D ring set into the underside, though small
they could support a persons full weight.  For the time being I
fastened them with a cable tie.  Next I squeezed the tops of the
gloves and felt them ratchet down until they were tightly gripping her
upper arms.  Each had a small black D ring in it that I joined with a
thin black wire effectively pinning her arms to her side.  I added a
thin black choker, again from a distance a fashion accessory but
hiding a thin leather collar, the silver clasp really a small strong
padlock.  I freed her wrists then refastened them with more wire.

Finally she spoke, "You're tying me so that no one can tell from a
distance." Her voice was flat and calm like someone  discussing a
science experiment.
 I was unfastening her ankles from the chair, "Very good slave,"
I said.
"No gag?" She asked raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think it would go with the ensemble, do you?"

I handed her a small black leather clutch purse, it was difficult to
hold with her hands bound like that but somehow we managed. I
positioned her in front of a black drape and took my first shots.
She looked  poised and elegant, a young professional woman on her
way to a show or to a fancy party. She could have been a lawyer, a
doctor or a young executive. In fact she was a slave her bonds
invisible to a casual observer. I felt the strange little thrill of
knowing something others don't.  The bonds though elaborate were never
really intended to be used in this way.  I've always liked the idea of
secret bondage in public places.  In a year or so when Caroline was
fully my slave I intended to use them to have bondage sex in a box at
the Metropolitan Opera.  For now they were just to remind her of her
status as my slave .

When I felt she had started to relax a little I moved her in front of
one of the covered walls and used a thin black wire to secure the back
of her collar to a strategic ring.  Then I freed her arms, took a
couple more shots then reached back and picked out a bottle of
Champaign. This was part of a case Sam and I had picked up in Paris
during the fall fashion shows last year. I had intended to use it
for the toast at our wedding. Now I would use it to Christen my slave.

I uncorked the bottle (never pop it, that would be vulgar) then handed
her a Champagne flute.

 I started to fill her glass.
"Master, what is this for?"
"For you slave," I said, "To celebrate your capture."
I could tell that this wasn't a celebration she was keen on.
"I can't," she said.
"Nonsense, this is your Capture Day party. You get it only once a year
like your birthday.  Play your cards right and in future years you'll
even get presents" She seemed surprised by the mention of presents but
the idea that it was an annual event rammed home the fact that her
captivity was permanent.
"But Master I don't drink."
 "Yes you do, " I said lightly.
 "I don't....."  she began
"Slave you really don't get it do you?"  I said, "You drink, smoke pot,
molest little children and fuck animals.  You'll do what I say, when
I say it.  What Caroline Conway did or didn't do is of no interest to
me or my slave.  Now drink up."

She drank. I had her smile as seductively as possible as she brought
the glass to her lips. Click!  Had her tongue the glass suggestively
her bright red lips framing the action. Click!

I had her down two glasses of the Champaign in rapid succession
knowing that it would hit her empty stomach and head straight into her
bloodstream. I had her fling her skirt around a little, taking a
couple of fast shots while I waited for the alcohol to take effect.
Not drunk but with her inhibitions starting to be suppressed she was
ready to go further.

I took a couple more, of her holding the purse, of her presenting the
back of a gloved hand to the camera. Then I gave her a second glass.
Caroline holding a glass to her breast, eyes large, suggestive, she
offers the other to the camera. Click! I took a couple more then
offered her the bottle. Caroline refilling a glass. Click!.

From then on I made her go steady, as I didn't want her sick or
unconscious.  Her pupils were large and she'd giggle and tell me how
nice I was compared with some of the maniacs she'd heard of. She even
asked if she got to choose what her Capture Day presents were.
Realizing she had no real tolerance for alcohol and was rapidly
getting very drunk I said nothing and  just kept taking photo's.

Caroline, highheeled foot up high on a table pulling back the skirt to
reveal her stocking tops. Click. I told her to loose the dress which
she managed surprisingly quickly. I gave her back the glass and took
another of her holding it to her leather covered breast as a companion
piece to the earlier shot.

Adjusting the lights I pulled away and took a longshot. Caroline stood
as I told her, with one leg slightly bent,  patent heels shown to
maximum effect, then the long majestic line of her silken legs. The
stockings, a designer pair with a monogrammed patterned top, ended in
garters about four inches below her crotch.  From then on up it was
all black leather.  The briefs, a tiny black triangle which would have
barely covered the thatch of her crotch hair (if she'd had any), were
so tight that you could easily make out the outline of her pussy lips
in their shiny surface.  Yet these were nothing compared with the
corset.  Tight and black it hugged her body like a second skin from
the bottom where it's garters held up the stockings to the top where
it's soft underwired cups shoved her breasts up but barely covered her
nipples.  The slick black gloves flowed up her arms, leather fingers
caressing a wine glass with obvious suggestions.  Black gloved hand
raising the glass to those fabulous cherry lips.  Click!  A fetish
goddess in all her finery, her orientation  ill defined, which
is how I wanted it.  I took another couple of quick snaps then tossed
her a crop.  Suddenly she was a leather Dom.  I had her flex the crop
and look menacing, had her slap it against her hand, along her thigh.
Then I had her ditch it and threw her a ballgag, taking a whole series
of her gagging her own sweet mouth.  I was pleased to see that the
lipstick I'd chosen matched the color of the ball exactly.  More shots
of her handcuffing herself and she was suddenly a leatherclad slave
girl.  I had her kneel and look up beseechingly feeling all the time
the heat in my crotch.  Keeping her hands cuffed I removed the gag,
adjusted the tripod down to her level and undid my fly.  My erection
almost slapped her in the face.  I had her give it a sexy, hungry look
then use her talented mouth on it while the motorwind kept the shots
coming.  Suddenly I exploded into her mouth.  Somehow in the ecstasy
I'd managed to pull out freezing my erect cock, her rapt face and the
small trickle of cum down the side of her mouth forever on film.

I gave her the last of the Champagne to wash it down then freed her
hands. I could tell she was very hot so I decided to do something
about it. I pressed the top of the empty bottle against the tight
leather panties and wiggled it back and forth a little. She looked at
me doe eyed, the idea of what I wanted invading her drunken mind. She
shook her head silently.

"Fair enough slave," I said, "But in ten minutes you'll be tied  in
that cell and in no position to do anything about this." I rubbed her
damp pussy through the leather pants, she gasped. She looked at me, I
nodded at a mat on the floor. In the end her needs overcame her, she
lay, tore off the panties and started; first fingering and then at my
insistence using the neck of the bottle. I wondered what Sam would
think of our wedding wine being used like this, but it was only a
passing thought. I kept taking photo's and suggesting combinations all
the time wishing I had a video camera.

At length I stopped her, she resisted a little and pouted.
"You promised!"
"Don't worry slave," I said rolling her onto her stomach so that  I
could strap her hands together, "I'll see to you personally!"
Did I detect a little shiver of anticipation? In any case she gave me
no more trouble as I bound her arms and replaced the ballgag and
hobble. She seemed a little confused when after snapping some shots of
her standing I came over and released her hair from the pins that held
it up. It cascaded in rich golden blond curls around her shoulders and
it's wonderful aroma flew up to greet me.  If the change of hairstyle
confused her it was nothing compared to what happened next.  Over her
face but under her hair I fastened a soft leather mask.  It took some
adjustment but once in place the effect was outstanding.  The mask
covered her face from the hairline to her cheeks in a smooth expanse
of black leather leaving only the area around her mouth and her large
expressive eyes uncovered.  Framed by the canopy of her blond hair and
matching the rest of her leather ensemble it transformed Caroline into
a sexy bondage mystery model.  She seemed a little surprised but gave
me no trouble as we reproduced some of the earlier shots with a small
handheld camera.  I finished off with one of Caroline on her back, the
wine bottle cruelly inserted in her sopping pussy.

Then as I promised I took her, pounding away at her soft flesh,
driving deeper into her hot pussy to the accompaniment of her husky
moans and the squeak of leather. Unlike last time she was desperate
and almost willing. There was no suggestion of a struggle and I knew
this time she would not argue, in as much as a slave can consent to
anything this was consentual. Sam had always liked to be on top
claiming that it gave her more sensation. I didn't like it that much
but it did seem to do something for her. Now I changed our relative
positions lying on my back and positioning her on top. Her arms were
bound but she had strong legs and arching her back she came down on me
again and again screaming into the gag with every thrust.  I knew I
was close but she had been a good girl who though she didn't know it
yet had just delivered her sweet ass into my hands.  I felt I owed her
something.  So the images of fish gutting returned holding off my
final explosion just a little longer, allowing her to cum in a climax
so violent that her bonds struggled to contained it, and her gag
barely muffled it.  When we had finished she tried to say something
behind the gag then almost immediately fell fast asleep as if only the
sexual frustration had kept her conscious.  I gently removed the gag
and replaced her own collar.  Then I carried her sleeping form back to
the cell and reattached the wire.  She looked so content as she lay
there newly washed blond hair framing her masked face that something
gripped me and I found myself kissing those soft lips in a moment of
weakness that could only be the wine.

The warm after sex glow consumed me and suddenly I wanted to sleep.
Yet somehow I managed to fight it because I had to know how the
photo's had come out.  Brewing up enough coffee to keep half of
Colombia awake I started in the darkroom.

The pictures were good.  Most had been posed to match the desktop
publishing work I'd already done and as a result to my critical eye
lacked a certain spontaneity.  These I left to dry as I worked on the
other prints.  Part way through I stopped and went upstairs for more
coffee and to microwave a snack.  Whilst I was waiting I scanned one
of the masked Caroline photo's. Part one of the plan went into effect.
Firing up the computer I used a free trial  account from a well known
commercial service to telnet a university computer in Scotland.  I then
used a bug in the old copy of VMS it ran to give me superuser
privileges. The machine was one of the primary internet routers for
northern Europe and it proved easy to fake a message that would appear
to come from Caroline's university account.  I posted the picture to
an internet sex group via an anonymous server.  Next I sent a covering
message telling those interested that my name was Elizabeth
(Caroline's middle name) and my interests included kinky clothes and
bondage.  I was new to the internet I said, and wasn't sure if this
would work but if it did more would follow.  I also hinted that
Elizabeth would be willing to pose for money and had photosets for
sale.  It took a while to clean up the various security logs and shut
down but it was worth it.  Anyone looking into Caroline's
disappearance would have to conclude that she was really desperate for
money and would do almost anything to get it.

It was early the next morning before I found what I wanted. The photo
at first sight looked like any of the others I'd taken.  Caroline
looked out at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and great
need.  A silent solitary tear streamed down her smooth cheek towards
her stoppered mouth which almost blended perfectly with its color
coordinated ballgag.  Her full, shiny, red lips wrapped around the ball
and the black leather strap cut into the corners of her mouth.  She
had been bent at such an angle that her nipples peeped slightly over
the soft leather cups and the straps binding her arms helplessly
behind her were just visible.  I looked at the eyes again and saw the
beginnings of an acceptance of her fate.  This I knew was the one.  It
would never grace the cover of Vogue and would remain forever on the
wall of the dungeon, but though unseen it's quality and life marked it
apart.  There could be no doubt, this was the Pearson Shot.