“No.” Laura said in as firm a tone as she could manage, hoping to hide the nervousness she was feeling.

“Miss Blake, we’ve been over this, you don’t have a choice.” Mr. Kane said, a touch of frustration entering his. “This is happening one of two ways: firstly, you cooperate, we go out the back nice and quiet and I let you wear this...” He held up an object. It was a hood, of dark brown leather, laced in back with panels where the eyes and mouth would be. “Save you a little embarrassment.” He let her take a long look at it.

“Option two: you continue to be stubborn about this little “transfer”, Bob here will tear your clothes off, slap the cuffs on and we’ll drag you out the front door...after a few detours so everyone can see your pretty face. So what’s it going to be?”

“...Fine.” Laura finally spat out. Biting her lip to keep from saying anything else, the young woman stood up from her chair. Trying her best to avoid giving the two men a show, without much luck, she removed her jacket and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“I’ll let you keep the rest on...” Mr. Kane said, when she’d stripped down to panties, bra, stockings and heels. “Let you keep some dignity…for now anyway.” Laura just glared at him as she walked over, taking the gag from his outstretched hand. Raising it up, she opened her mouth as wide as possible to slip the rubber ball between her teeth, buckling the strap on snug behind her head. With the faintest murmur of discomfort escaping from it, she took the steel leg irons next and bent down, slipping the cuffs on, first her left ankle, then the right.

Finally, the handcuffs.. She locked one onto her right wrist, then grabbed the other in that hand. She paused, just a moment. As he said, there was no choice here, but she hesitated before this final, irrevocable step. Then she brought both hands behind her back, slipped the second cuff around her left hand and closed it, letting it click until it was tight against her wrist, leaving her trapped, helpless.

“You made the smart decision.” Mr. Kane told her, getting up from his chair, the hood in his hands. Laura closed her eyes as the hood went over her head, plunging her into darkness. She gave a quiet whimper as the laces were tightened, pulling the heavy leather snug across her face, pressing her head from all sides. Both sight and sound were all but completely blocked off.

But she could still feel, as a thick leather collar was pulled around her neck and buckled on. There was a brief tugging at the front, as a leash was clipped she thought. Her guess was confirmed as a second later there was another, more insistent tug from the front of the collar. Helpless, she stumbled forward, her movements hampered somewhat by the unfamiliar cuffs around her ankles, the chain between them limiting her short, hobbling steps.

For the first minute or so, she moved in short jerks and stops, first this way, then that, unable to see where she was going, completely reliant on the leash to guide her. Eventually though she got used to following the steadier pressure as they left the room, especially since she knew where they were going: out through the office and to the elevators.

Though she couldn’t see or hear, Laura could easily imagine the scene in the office: Mr. Kane leading the way (she assumed it was him holding her leash) Bob bringing up the rear and in the center a young woman, stripped down to her underwear, shackles on her hands and feet, her identity (hopefully) obscured by the leather hood, shuffling along at the end of a leash. It wasn’t the first time the office had seen something like this, Laura was hardly the first woman here to suffer an “involuntary transfer” like this.

People would be staring, whispering, wondering who the unfortunate woman in the hood was. It was company policy not to say whenever a girl got transferred, but it usually didn’t take the rumor mill long to find out. Certainly, they’d start to suspect when Laura stopped showing up to work and management got cagey about where she’d gone.

Of course, for Laura it didn’t matter much, not where she was going. Soon enough she’d learn things like dignity or embarrassment no longer applied to her, but for right now, she still blushed crimson beneath the hood, imagining the stares and whispers as she was led to the elevators, and then to the back door to the building’s loading dock, where a van was waiting to take her away...