Continues from Chapter II here

Darkness surrounded me on all sides, closing in so tightly about me that I couldn’t help but whimper.

Darkness brought an end to the day. Darkness brought an end to awareness, to consciousness.

Darkness…brought the dreams. The nightmares.

Darkness heralded the coming of Elena. The villain, the terror, the scourge that still hounded me.

I moaned into the ballgag that was strapped into my mouth, squirming and quivering inside the latex straitjacket that held me firmly…tightly…in place. My eyes squeezed shut and then sprang open, though the darkness of the thick leather hood remained the same. Crushing snugness enveloped me.

I sucked in a ragged breath, my mental voice babbling to myself, trying to reassure the shreds of my sanity that I was okay. I had been rescued. Madeline had taken me away. She had taken me from Elena, brought me to a safe place. Elena wouldn’t…couldn’t find me…

…Right?

Where was she then? The unwanted, unvoiced question reared up in my mind as I squirmed on the bed. She wasn’t there with me. She wasn’t holding me, as he had been when I drifted off into slumber some time ago. I couldn’t feel her, couldn’t hear her, though I strained all my senses. Though I blurted out gagged questions into the still air of the room. No comforting hands soothed me, no reassuring voice called me back into the light.

Maybe she’s abandoned you…

The mental voice whispered into my mind, a sibilant hiss of malicious enjoyment at my distress

…left you to rot. Left you…for me…

I let out a frantic moan, shaking my head rapidly as my mental doubts solidified into the voice of my torturer. Elena’s face leered at me from the darkness of my hood, my addled mind conjuring up half a dozen reasons as to how she might have found me. Perhaps Madeline had abandoned me…perhaps she’d been captured and tortured in turn. I couldn’t fault her for that, Elena was a brutal dominant.

Was that the click of a boot heel? Was I imagining the catsuit clad maniac toying with me? Watching me as I writhed in my bondage on the bed, helplessly alone. Was it imagination alone…or was I discovered?

The creak of a door? Her goons coming to snatch me away? Had I been found? Had Elena come to take me once more? Bring me back to that awful warehouse dungeon to torture and break anew until I didn’t even remember anything save her control.?

I let out a muffled sob of despair, shaking my head and sucking in a breath to scream.

“It’s alright, sweet boy, you’re safe.”

Madeline’s voice sounded like a bright trumpet through the mental fog, softly, but clearly there in my ear. My burgeoning scream died into a whimper of equal parts fear and relief.

“Elena can’t harm you anymore, so long as you’re with me.”

“You are safe. Protected. You are mine. My boy. I’ll keep you safe.”

I squirmed in my bonds, their snug tightness no longer feeling crushing but rather…comforting. Her words were pouring into my ears, and I dimly realized that I had a set of soft gel-like earbuds that had been carefully ensconced in my ears. Madeline must have put those in after I had fallen asleep. Set up some sort of recording to help me keep the night terrors at bay.

“You matter, my sweet boy. Listen well to me…you are safe. You are cared for here…I care for you.”

I let out another muffled sob of relief, and aching hope that the words were true. Even after weeks with Madeline, even after she’d said much the same thing over and over to me, it still seemed surreal. Too good to be true. My mind warred with itself. Between believing such words, such sentiment could only be some renewed cruel trick…and the lived reality that Madeline did care for me. That she had saved me. That she comforted me, and kept me with her, despite the extra danger and potential attention it brought to her. It hardly seemed real. Yet, somehow, it was.

“You are worthy of my care, my sweet boy. You are safe in your bondage, with me. You matter.”

I mumbled into my gag, shuddering still as adrenaline still coursed through me from me near panic attack before.

“Now you’re going to repeat these words back to me. You’re going to say them, until you believe them.”

Her voice was soothing. Understanding. Warm and caring. I yearned for her touch again in that moment, wanting above all else for her to be there in person to tell me these things. But she was out there again, still on the hunt for information that could help bring down the criminal empire of which Elena was a part. Still trying her damnedest to solve the terrible situation we were both in, while I lay here helpless. I could do this for her at least. I could listen and repeat…and hope. Hope that I could get better…that someday Elena’s hold on my psyche would wane, and I might not fear the dark…

As the words came I repeated them, muffled by the gag, but I managed. Mumbling them out into the dark, holding them before me as some thin shield against the mental torrent that raged beyond them.

“I am safe. I am cared for. I am loved. Madeline loves me. Elena doesn’t own me. I’m not a slave anymore. Madeline will release me if I ask. I am safe. Madeline keeps me safe. Elena can’t hurt me anymore. Madeline protects me. I can leave if I want. Madeline rescued me. Elena can’t hurt me anymore. Madeline protects me…”

Elena's visage, that cruel taskmistress, was now contested in my mind. Each time she spun before my unseeing eyes, it was with Madeline speaking softly in my ears. My own muffled bleating words, coached along by my saviour. Assuring me over and over that I was safe. That I wouldn’t be taken again. That though I remained a quasi prisoner, it was as a willing one. To keep me safe. To protect me. That I was more than the beaten captive slave that had given everything to Elena and been broken in so doing. That somehow, in my tight bondage, squirming helplessly in that flat…something was different…

I was worth…something…again.

Half a city away from where her rescued boy lay in protective captivity, Madeline strode along London’s slick sidewalks. A brief drizzly rain squall had left a sheen of damp across everything, tinged with the beginnings of evening mist as the city's Friday night revelry slowly began to pick up pace.

She watched as a giggling couple passed her by, leaning in to one another as they meandered along on what was clearly a date, and felt a pang of regret that she’d had to leave her boy behind.

Madeline couldn’t stay with him all the time, much as she might desire otherwise. She still had work to do, but she loathed having to leave him alone with only his mental whirlpool. He was improving, bit by bit, but still was so easily cast back into the deceptively thorough programming job that that cold hearted bitch had inflicted upon him. So she had crafted a small little audio playlist. Really just a few minutes of her crooning to him. Telling him it was going to be alright. Telling him he was safe with her, that captivity was voluntary. He could leave whenever he wanted, but that either way he was valued.

It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Provided that this night went well, she’d be back in a few hours time, by sunrise at the latest. He would be okay. He would be okay.

Madeline’s break in at the warehouse had netted her a trove of valuable data in sketching out elements of the criminal empire that Elena’s father, the deceptively mild-mannered and named Gregory, had built over the last twelve years. The problem was, from her perspective, that Gregory had sufficiently infiltrated elements of law enforcement, the justice system, and the local political establishment, that reporting on her findings wasn’t likely to go anywhere fast. Much as dropping off her rescued boy was likely to end with him back in Elena’s clutches, going back to her bosses, or to the press, and kicking up a fuss would likely end with her face down in the Thames…or right alongside her boy under Elena’s merciless control.

So a more lengthy approach was needed. Something that would help unwind enough of Gregory’s influence networks, and tar enough of his corrupted vessels, that Madeline and her rescue would be untouchable. Or as close as could be, at any rate.

Which brought her to her plan for tonight. Tonight, Madeline was infiltrating a club that was affiliated with the underworld empire. There had been enough hints in what she had recovered that pointed to the club, the Velvet Lounge, as being fairly central to the corruption efforts that Gregory and Elena were spinning to sicken and destroy what was left of law and justice in this town.

And tonight Madeline would finally get a start on kicking the whole rotten structure down.

She came around a corner and spotted the entrance to the club, protected by a trio o burly intimidating looking men. There was a fair amount of foot traffic, it was after all one of the better known clubbing districts, and Madeline seamlessly blended into the crowd. She was dressed in tight fitting leather pants, a shiny wet look top, and a leather jacket. A rather fetishy sort of look, but it nonetheless blended quite well with the partygoers. Searching. Searching for a likely mark that would allow her to gain access.

It took her a minute, during which time she drew closer and closer to the door, but she finally spotted a likely prospect. A man of course, and one a few years her senior. A refined looking gentleman, dressed in a suit. From the office district of course, or perhaps one of the government departments. Already half sloshed from an early afternoon of drinks with the boys no doubt, and weaving his way with intent and purpose towards the door that Madeline needed to access.

“Ooooh, hello there,” Madeline pitched her voice into an attractive sensual simper as she latched onto the fellow’s arm as he mounted the pavement in front of her, “aren’t you a bold fellow, out and about in such a depraved place…one could get into all sorts of trouble…”

The man stopped, surprised at the sudden presence of a highly attractive leather clad woman on his arm, but the confidence of liquor, and his own particular proclivities had him returning her smile in short order.

“Hello yourself…you look…incredible…” he paused, an eyebrow raised in what he must think was a confident bordering on domineering way

“Oh, uhm, Sarah,” Madeline deliberately flushed and inserted a small flutter into her response, her eyes professionally noting how he drew a little closer, “It’s my first time down here myself…and I do prefer clubbing with a friendly, knowledgeable fellow. I spotted you and..ahm…well…”

It really was as easy as that sometimes. Madeline smiled internally as the fellow eyed her up and down, no doubt imagining her in cuffs and collar, wide eyed as he made her kneel. Men like this were often so terribly obvious as to what they wanted…and made things all the easier for professional snoops like Madeline. While she might have felt bad suborning a genuine civilian in this manner, Madeline was pretty confident he was one of the corrupt bastards who wouldn’t much care if the girl he was spanking was a real prisoner or not.

“Well you’re in luck Sarah,” the man murmured, gliding past his own name as he clasped her hand firmly to his arm, “I was just on my way to the most delightful place…we’re sure to have a wonderful time if you’d care to accompany me?” As he asked his question in a way that made it plain he expected only a positive response he was already practically marching her towards the entrance to the Velvet Lounge.

Prick.

“Ooooh, I’d love that!” Madeline cooed, flashing coquettish eyes at him, and giggling in a way that seemed to express a naïve joy that such fellows usually found intoxicating.

And indeed the man wasted little time in waving imperiously at the bouncers to stand aside, flashing a discrete membership card all in black that he swiftly pocketed again once inside. Both of them were handed half faced domino masks, helping to protect identities if they wanted. Madeline followed along, doing her best inexperienced partyer routine which got a few knowing looks from the bouncers. They had, no doubt, seen plenty of such young men and women pass within to the den of depravity hidden away in the heart of London. Only the lucky ones stumbled out at the end of the night…

Madeline kept up her naïve enthusiasm right through the foyer of the club, smiling and looking around with only half feigned curiosity. She wanted to drink in as much of the place and the people as she could. For the investigation of course…and her own fascination with BDSM. The foyer looked relatively normal, though some discrete indications were scattered about to indicate the club’s kink status. Two of the desk clerks wore thin collars, items that danced on the fine dividing line between edgy vanilla and downright kink. The artwork displayed tended to express dominance or submission of its portrayals. Men and women looking beseechingly upwards, or sensually outwards. Others gazing commandingly downwards, hands resting meaningfully on the heads of their submissive worshippers. The colour palette was all blacks, deep reds, and royal purples. Colours to excite and arouse…to drive the imaginations and lusts of newcomers and returning members alike.

The still nameless fool who had her on his arm doffed his coat, accepting Madeline’s refusal to take hers with a slight grimace, but then swiftly escorted her out of the foyer and into the main area of the Velvet Lounge.

Madeline had to squint to make out anything in the suddenly murky depths. The entrance where she and her swaying date stood was bathed in soft light, and raised so that it was viewable from most of the seating areas of the club. The only other areas that were lit was the large stage, on which a gorgeous woman and band were crooning out jazz tunes, and a few bar squares scattered artistically around the main floor where drinks and toys were being served. The night was evidently still young enough that the racier displays were still being held in reserve…vanilla entertainment was the word of the hour for the stage at least…

Madeline rapidly blinked her eyes, trying to acclimatize herself to the murky atmosphere as she was le down the stairs and towards the nearest bar. Much of the seating locations were shrouded in deeper shadow, an effect that achieved a degree of privacy or whatever activities were transpiring unless one boldly approached to within easy recognition distance. Further musing on just what was transpiring in the twilight areas of the club had to be put on hold as Madeline’s date brought her to the bar and ordered two drinks. He was clumsy enough from his prior drinking that Madeline had to really concentrate on not rolling her eyes as she noted a tablet dropping into one of the beverages.

“Here you are my dear and mmmmm…” the man slid the drugged drink her way, but then was interrupted by her lips meeting his own. Madeline was no slouch as a kisser, and she kept one hand on the back of his head, her tongue dancing and driving into his mouth, while her other set to work. It was easy enough to swap the drinks around. The bar staff didn’t especially seem to take much interest, likely a matter of tactful discretion that allowed them to go home at night without being caught up in what could always be kinky roleplay of one sort or another. She broke away from the kiss, and the two of them smiled at one another, drinking deeply from their glasses. Madeline met the man’s eyes, and could easily detect the gloating confidence that now gathered behind them.

He thought he had a new playmate for the evening, perhaps even for longer.

Prick.

She had initially planned to simply get the fellow roaringly drunk and depositing him somewhere out of the way. But the leering triumph in his gaze deserved greater correction. This was a fellow badly in need of a lesson in enforced submission. So she sat with him for a few minutes, making increasingly teasing smalltalk, making sure to touch his arm or leg, caress his cheek, and finally step in close to him as he finished the drink meant for Madeline and swayed.

Madeline smiled winningly, leaned in closer, and asked in a husky voice, “Sssssooooo…feel like some…fun?”

The fellow’s hungry smile deepened into a smirk, his flushed cheeks and slightly unfocused eyes speaking to some potent aphrodisiac component to whatever concoction he had attempted to dose her with. He nodded, slurring an eager, “I know justttt thhhh plaaace…” and ushering her clumsily away from the bar. Madeline sighted the play area he was taking her to long before they reached there, and put on a good show of giggling and swaying along with him as they neared it. Perhaps a dozen people all told were in the open dungeon location, though Madeline paid them little attention. All her focus was on guiding her sloppy date over to where the restraint rack was located, and cajoling him into a pair of cuffs.

“Mmmm, such a brave man, showing me these restraints,” she cooed into his ear as she locked the cuffs onto his wrists. She kept up a barrage of teasing kisses and touches as she hooded him, cinching everything tightly into place as he swayed. Madeline laid him against a spanking horse, cuffing his limbs into place one by one, and caressed his still clothed thighs, “I’m soooooo grateful you agreed to show me the ropes,” she tittered in her best spacey voice.

He opened his mouth, either to respond or somehow sensing that she should be the one tied up, and Madeline rammed a large ballgag in between his lips. He began to protest, and she knelt down in front of him, kissing the ballgag and meeting his eyes, “Don’t worry lover, I promise whatever you get put through here…well…I’m sure you can think of some ways to pay me back…”

The man gurgled, aroused, uncertain, and somehow still thinking he was in control of the scene.

Madeline gave him a saucily seductive wink, playing into whatever foolish fantasy was in the process of waylaying and kidnapping his common sense. Then Madeline snapped the hood’s blindfold into place, standing up and discreetly running her hand across her mouth. Disgusting…but necessary.

She turned and raised a hand in polite inquiry to a latex clad dominant who had wandered over to select a crop from a nearby rack, “Oh, excuse me, could I ask a favour?”

The woman turned, and Madeline drank her in, enjoying the full figured, busty look, exquisitely sculpted in tight defining latex. She continued, a slight and noticeable catch in her voice making her sound half strangled as her eyes roamed and strayed about the woman’s busty breasts and finally to her face, “He’s been an absolute boor, and I’ve had my fill of him pawing at me. I think he may have tried to sneak something into my drink too. Would you mind making him see the error of his ways while I…ah…ummm…clear my head?”

Madeline had to do her best not to gasp, and weakly covered the gap with sudden blushes as though overcome with desire as her eyes continued to pick out details of the person behind the domino mask, deep purple catsuit, and killer red lipstick. Unless she badly missed her guess that was judge Carol Graves. Judge Graves, to the public, was the sort of by the book hard-nosed keeper of justice that people delighted in. Someone who was the pinnacle of the legal system, firmly on the side of good. She was also often the go to justice for sentencing the criminal riff raff when one wanted to be sure they wouldn’t be bothering decent people again anytime soon. And she was here…in the Velvet Lounge…

Didn’t she know who was behind this place? Did anyone know apart from Madeline who wasn’t a part of the Gregorian criminal empire?

“I’d be happy to dear,” Carol Graves purred from behind her mask, patting Madeline warmly on the hip and giving her a sultry smile, “You’re sure I can’t entice you to stay and go doubles on him? We could even put him up for auction tonight…some time being thoroughly owned is often best with…” she slashed her crop down twice to land two stinging blows on the man’s rump, making him squeal, “…misogynist trash…” her gaze towards the man was filled with nothing but dominant contempt…towards Madeline, filled with sultry, aroused, enticing, desire.

Madeline did her best not to blush at the evident desire in Carol Graves’ eyes and voice, and politely demurred, “Perhaps another time…or at least, not for an hour or two. I need to wash his stink off me.”

The judge-cum-dominatrix chuckled, and released Madeline with one last warm squeeze of her rump, “Well I hope you hurry back dear, I’d love to see what you can do when you’re suitably…motivated…” as Madeline made to move away, the woman’s hand flicked up, holding out a card. Her eyes sparkled as Madeline reached out, her own eyes widening. Her contact details.

“In case this trash has completely put you off for this evening my dear…I would love to see you some other time…just the two of us…”

Madeline blushed, smiled in return, and accepted the card with murmured thanks. Her mind settling on being fairly certain that if she did come back this way to join the judge in her games, she was going to end up a captive playmate. And were she to meet up with her, here or elsewhere, there was no way that didn’t end with her being on the end of the judge’s leash for the evening. The judge did not seem to be someone who believed in equal partners in anything, though had an appreciable response to drink-spiking assholes the way that she was already laying into him with her crop. Any other night, in any other setting Madeline would have been quite tempted by Carol Graves as a top. The woman had that effortless air of command, piercing eyes, and a body that demanded worship, all combined into a package that Madeline found nearly irresistible. Alas, she had work to do.

Madeline wandered off, the muffled cries of her would be kidnapper tinkling like pure music in her ears as Carol Graves began a long session of making him regret his nefarious ways. Leaving her free to actually explore the club, and ideally find some further evidence that was usable. Simply being present here, as judge Graves was, was not in itself proof enough of corruption. No, she needed someone who was more intimately familiar with the organization. Someone with access to a paper trail.

Her mind still working through the precise nature of her mission here, she let her feet take whatever direction seemed best. Winding her way around tables, passing a few kneeling leashed submissives, and a number of folks having a decently good time. Not everyone here was on the hunt to kidnap and enslave…they were simply rubbing shoulders with those who were.

Such as…ah.

Madeline paused, picking up a drink smoothly from a passing waitress and settling into an unoccupied table as her eyes spotted a familiar face. A certain police captain, responsible for much of the policing and security in the area near the docks…and sitting in the club with company.

Unwilling company.

The man was dressed in a fetish version of a police uniform, all leathers and latex. He was seated in an area that gave a fair bit of privacy, and sipping at his drink, his other hand maintaining a tight hold of the leash that led down, under the table. To a thick collar wrapped around the neck of the latex-catsuited woman kneeling beneath the table. Her arms swallowed up by a tight latex armbinder, her legs frogtied by thick leather belts, and her mouth wrenched open by a large ring gag. Her head was bobbing up and down, being forced to provide the grinning police captain with a blowjob, her eyes wide with disbelief.

The scene was not so remarkable as to cause comment, and the corrupt fellow would no doubt be able to convince anyone concerned that this was an intensive roleplay, of the sort that so often went on in the Velvet Lounge. And while such roleplays did occasioning genuinely happen, this as so many others were was the true draw for many to the Velvet Lounge. That they could bring, or have brought on their behalf, whomever they wished to bind and enslave. Madeline was willing to bet that the woman hadn’t had any plans at all to go clubbing this evening, and certainly not anyplace like the Velvet Lounge. She wondered who she was…journalist? Activist? Nosey snoop like Madeline? Or had she just been a pretty face that the police captain had wanted?

Madeline squeezed her eyes shut and silently cursed. She couldn’t save everyone. Not on her own, and certainly not by making a scene in the club so early in the night. If she tried to rescue the woman, she’d foreclose any ability to actually accomplish her mission, and bring down the whole organization. She was here to gather information, not be a hero. She looked over again, watching the enforced blowjob, and growled a little in frustration before reaching into her pocket. A small, compact camera, the size of her thumb, has the only resident of that pocket, and Madeline drew it out snapped a trio of shots, and smoothly slid it back in within the span of half a dozen seconds.

She couldn’t save the woman now. But she wouldn’t abandon her entirely. If she could…

If she could swing it, she’d rescue her later…or at least provide the pictures to someone who could do something. Someone in authority, or with sufficient public presence, who could be trusted.

If only she could find that someone…

Madeline silently snarled as she stood up and walked away, leaving the kidnapped innocent and her new hopefully temporary master behind, having to take a little while to get her mission face back on. As she stalked along, her direction of travel pointing her towards the back rooms and VIP areas that she was increasingly sure would be the place to go, she found herself once more grinding to a halt.

Just a few tables away from the VIP section entrance, Madeline recognized Councilwoman Rebecca Folgers, the representative for the harbour section of the city. Unlike the still nameless police captain, the councilwoman clearly had a buried submissive streak…which was in the process of being unburied.

Rebecca Folgers was not wearing a domino mask. In fact, the respectable councilwoman wasn’t wearing anything that could be reasonably described as clothes. A collar was locked around her elegant neck, her arms were boxtied behind her with leather straps, and she was busy bouncing up and down on a strapon cock. Said strapon belonged to an intimidatingly muscular leather biker domme who was seated and grinning hungrily as she allowed her submissive politician to pleasure herself. One of the domme’s hand was alternating between groping Rebecca’s breasts, and pulling her down by the collar for hungry kisses every few moments. The other hand had a leash entwined around it, and was resting on the head of the bound rubber gimp who was kneeling beside the domme watching the two women.

Despite the implications of Councilwoman Folgers being here in the Velvet Lounge, Madeline found herself flushing with arousal as she watched the scene, and she parked herself nearby to not appear out of place as she readied her camera again.

“You’re my little slut aren’t you?” the short haired blonde biker domme chuckled, pulling Mrs Folgers down by the collar and forcing the bound, gasping, desperate woman to meet her eyes as the domme rolled her hips, making the strapon shift within the panting councilwoman, “Big powerful woman out in the world, but in here you’re just my little bitch.”

“G-ggaaaaaaah, y’yes Ma’am.” Rebecca flushed and babbled, her body tensing and flexing in most appealing ways. Madeline was transfixed.

Click-click.

Her hands moved practically on autopilot, snapping discrete shots of the nigh unbelievable scene. The councilwoman was happily married, her status as one half of a young attractive couple being a major component to unseating the womanizing schmuck who had previously occupied her seat and a prime place on the Gregorian crime family’s payroll. Not that the second part was anything like proven, but Madeline was quite certain of her sources.

“Mmmmmm…” the nameless domme let out a satisfied moan of her own, her eyes locked with Councilwoman Folgers, “I do love it when you are forced to admit these things. Tell me you’re mine slut…” she kept her finger firmly through the collar’s ring, her other hand tugging the head of the bound gimp prisoner closer.

“I’m…” Rebecca let out a loud moan as her gyrating hips sent waves of pleasure from the movement of the strapon flashing through her, combined with the potent concoction of her submission to this domineering woman. Madeline watched, eyes wide and snapping pictures, as the councilwoman flushed bright red and stammered out, “I’m..mmmmm…I’m yours Ma’am…I’m your slut…”

“My owned bitch…”

“Y-y-you’re…you’re owned…b-bitch…gaaaaaaaahhhh…”

“Mmmmmm…such an obedient bitch…” the domme’s hand went back to stroking the bound gimp’s head, the leash jingling a little with the motion. She leaned in closer, and pressed her lips firmly to the panting councilwoman’s own, claiming her, dominating her, and enthralling her still further with a powerful moan inducing kiss. When their lips broke, both women moaned…and Madeline couldn’t help a small “Oooh” escaping her own mouth.

“Does my bitch want to cum?” the domme purred, releasing Rebecca’s collar to allow the woman to straighten a little…which simply made her sit down more sharply onto the strapon, drawing a squealed, begging response.

“MMMmmmmmm, y-yes please, please Ma’am!” Rebecca Folgers went bright red, her eyes darting between the domme and the bound gimp, her body continuing to squirm and sensually struggle against the controlling hand and bonds that kept her ensnared on the domme’s lap.

“Well, I suppose I might be in the mood to let you” The domme mused teasingly, running her hand down Mrs Folgers’ side, and teasingly caressing her naked breasts. The hand holding the gimp’s leash jingled, and a hungry, triumphant smirk bloomed on the domme’s face.

“Tell me…bitch…how has it been this last month? Knowing that you share your submissive tendencies with your husband…knowing that he’s a little bitch too…knowing that I hold the keys to your husband’s manhood…” the domme’s hands dipped into her cleavage, and drew out a small chain, on which was a single key, and she smirked at the panting, gasping, brightly blushing woman who was torn between looking at the key, and at the kneeling gimp.

Madeline gasped. The husband was…oh no…

“H-hot…” the gasping moan came from Rebecca’s mouth, drawn forth almost unwillingly as she gasped and moaned and writhed on the domme’s strapon, “Gaaaaahhh…mmmmm…ssssooooo…so…h-hot Ma’am…”

“You love my control.” The domme pinched her nipple

“Eeeeep! I-I…I l-love your…your control Ma’am.”

“Mmmm, good. Good. Because the price of your orgasm tonight is another month of chastity for your husband.”

A low squeal of disbelief came from the kneeling gimp prisoner, Mr Folgers, and the domme’s hand lashed out a moment later, delivering three stinging slaps to his hooded and gagged face, “Insolent little fool! Forehead on the floor, right now!”

Madeline watched as the bound and rubberized husband of Mrs Folgers shivered and obeyed, his forehead pressed to the floor, his manacled hands twisting and pulling against the unyielding chains that held them behind his back. The domme removed his leash from her hand and held it up in front of Rebecca’s mouth, “Hold your bitch husband’s leash for me like a good slavegirl…”

Rebecca opened her mouth, her blush growing brighter, and clamped her teeth around the leather of the leash. The domme patted her cheek, “Good slut.” Then she casually picked up a crop nearby and, from her seated position, proceeded to deliver an even dozen hard blows against the rubber rump of the quivering slave gimp that had dared to make an unauthorized noise in her presence.

Madeline stared, remembering to get a couple additional pictures, and imagined what it might be like to be on either side of the collar around Rebecca’s neck. Here was a less seductive, but no less arousing picture of dominance and submission a la Judge Graves. And again here, Madeline could well imagine the pleasures that awaited in dominating or being dominated by the individuals involved…

“I’m afraid you’ll be going home alone this evening slut…” the domme finished the cropping and plucked the leash from her panting submissive councilwoman’s mouth, “Your husband still has to learn his place as my property…but, I don’t want you to think you get no say in his training. After all, you’re the one who brought him to me like a good pet…”

More moans from Rebecca. More quiet gasps from Madeline. More smirking from the blonde domme who was thoroughly enjoying rubbing her control and dominance over the pair of squealing slaves into their respective faces.

“So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back into those special VIP rooms. I’m going to take you with my strapon while your husband watches. Watches as I reduce you to my mewling, squirming, pleasure wracked slut, who wants nothing more than to feel her owner’s strapon thrusting into her. Once I’ve made you into that, into your true persona…you are going to tell me how long you want me to keep your husband as my gimp. Will it be the weekend? Will it be the week? Two weeks? A month?” the domme’s grin was sharklike as she snared Rebecca’s collar once more, and pulled the moaning councilwoman down until their noses were practically touching, “Choose wisely though, because if I think you are being too lenient not only will I keep him for at least a month…but you’ll be locked in chastity with no orgasms allowed until we see each other at the end of his sentence.”

Rebecca let out a loud and plaintive moan…though one clearly torn between outrage, and a far greater weight of arousal. Madeline watched more quivers race through the rubber form of her husband, though no sounds emerged to contest the devious plans of their domme.

“And once I’ve made you cum, and reduced you to being my obedient slut…once you’ve given me an acceptable slave training sentence for your husband…you’re going to tell him that this is what you want. That you lust for my control, ache for my touch, and desire nothing more ardently than to be my slave. For both of you to be my slaves.”

Rebecca groaned as she was pulled off of the domme’s strapon, a leash clipped to her collar. The councilwoman’s eyes were wide, as the domme gathered both leashes, and then took her by the chin, her voice deliberately set to carry as her stare bore into the pleading gaze of her female slut, “I’m hardly asking much slut…you’ve already said these things to me. More than once. You’ll just be telling your husband now what you want…”

Madeline sat and stared as the moaning Rebecca Folgers, her silent but no doubt shocked husband, and the grinning domineering biker woman were carried away from her. Her mind was awash with all manner of feelings, some practical, others distinctly less so. But what finally snapped her out of the almost fugue state of arousal and need that seemed to have begun to settle onto her was the direction of travel of the trio. The domme was taking them back into the VIP rooms, precisely the area that Madeline was certain she needed to access to get some kind of conclusive proof of the nefarious nature of the Velvet Lounge, Elena, and her father Gregory.

She sprang to her feet, following after them as quickly as she dared. Tonight was going to lead to something she was sure of it. Tonight she was finally going to find something that she could use. Something to further her mission. Something to make Elena and her father pay for what they'd done.



Something to help Madeline herself, and her poor damaged boy, return to some semblance of normalcy.



Madeline squared her shoulders, adopted as confident a look as she could manage...and darted in behind the mewling Rebecca Folgers, her shellshocked gimp hsband, and the gorgeous, coniving domme who held them both captive. Leaving behind the relatively public areas of the club...and plunging into the secretive depths of the Velvet Lounge...