Kinktober 2022 #10 - Theft/Lure

Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, non-consensual, F/m, femdom, bondage, kidnapping, bondage slavery, straitjacket, chastity cage, The Kraken Club 

“Mrs. Whitmore? This is the Kraken Club.”

“Angela! Darling, I’m so glad to hear from you. Has there been any word?

“As a matter of fact, there has. Your stolen property has been recovered and you can expect it to be delivered back to you by the end of the week, pending the Club’s required review of the situation.”

Angela was looking at the recovered slave in question right then, over a camera feed of his private “luxury” cell. Miles better than the shelves of sleep sacks most of the inventory got to rest in, but still just a cot in a tiny, bare square of a room. The slave himself was bound in a tight leather straitjacket. A sturdy blindfolded wrapped around his head and a matching panel gag rested over his mouth. Two legs were bound into one by a leather sheathe. His only other “clothing” was the chastity cage encasing his slightly above average cock. Hidden from sight was a plug inside his ass, buzzing away at his ability to focus.

Angela remembered him, despite both the amount of slaves Angela regularly dealt with and how long it had been since the young man was first sold to Mrs. Whitmore. He had lost a noticeable amount of muscle definition since then, and a now sported a slight paunch.

“Excellent. I want my teddy slut back at my feet as soon as—wait, did you just say by the end of the week? Why on earth will it take that long? And what do you mean ‘pending a review’? What’s there to review? That degenerate stole my slave!”

“Mr. Mockford’s culpability is not in doubt, Mrs. Whitmore.” Angela’s eyes moved to another feed. This man—a cousin of Mrs. Whitmore’s husband—was in her branch’s medical room, strapped down and thrashing in the middle of his initial examination. He and the slave he had stolen had arrived less than an hour ago. The only thing he wore was a dental gag and the inflatable pump gag the nurse was inserting inside it to test out the capacity of his mouth.

“We’ve taken him into custody as well. From now on, until his future owner decides otherwise, it will be referred to as lot 77301.”

“Then what is this review for? He did it! He took my slut, and I expect him to pay!”

“Of course, Mrs. Whitmore.”

“And I mean pay in every sense of the word, Angela. I want him to suffer, and I want compensation for the retrieval fees to come straight from his bank account.”

“The process has already begun. An appropriate amount of the money that belonged to lot 77301 in its former life will be yours in the next several hours.”

“But it will take you several days to return my stolen property. What exactly is the meaning of this, Angela? I have been a loyal member and customer for years. Why am I being treated this way?”

Angela pushed aside her annoyance at the woman and the mental image of putting her in her place. It was so easy to visualize the slightly older, overly skinny woman kneeling beneath her desk. Mrs. Whitmore wasn’t much to look at, but that long slender neck of hers would fit perfectly between Angela’s legs.

“We will need to make sure your property’s health has not been unduly affected by its ordeal. You recall how our agents asked you about its physical state? We have to compare your description to its current health. We’re required to check for new marks, scars, and any other potential concerns.”

“I… see. That sounds reasonable. But why can’t you simply send someone directly to my home instead of making me wait? I want my poor teddy slut back.”

Angela could picture the insufferable woman’s pout.

“We also need to figure out exactly what went wrong that allowed the lot to abscond with your property.

“But your people went over the security system already! They said they found nothing wrong!”

“We need to interrogate both items for their recollections of what happened. If there are any discrepancies between their stories and yours we’ll have an idea of where to start looking.”

The woman actually scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Angela. What was the point of sending those people to my home if they still haven’t figured that part out? I demand you send my slave back to me as soon as you confirm his health.”

There were times when Angela could admire the nerve it took to make demands like that of her, or be amused by it. This was not one of those times.

“The initial reports were entirely from the perspective of members of your household, Mrs. Whitmore. Other avenues of investigation will be necessary to judge if any part of this situation was caused by an unfortunate lapse in your judgement.”

“Excuse me?!”

A new image flashed through Angela’s mind. She imagined Whitmore at her feet again. There was a scandalized look upon an enslaved woman's sharp, overdone face as snapping fingers directed her to her knees.

“Please do not forget who you are speaking to, Mrs. Whitmore. And don’t be naïve. You would hardly be the first person to ignore precautions and make mistakes with their security system. The Kraken Club will not pretend to discount the possibility a customer can be negligent.”

“I—well—“

Angela could hear it in her voice. The exact moment when Mrs. Whitmore did remember exactly who she was speaking to, the organization Angela represented, and the potential dangers of forgetting herself.

“If it is found that you are in some way responsible, there may be consequences. Financial penalties, loss of certain member privileges, and repossession of your ‘teddy slut’ could all be possible outcomes if that is the case.”

Mrs. Whitmore’s membership could even be revoked if the review went badly enough. Lot 77301 might not be the only new product the Kraken Club might get out of this situation.

But Angela didn’t need to tell her that part. Word got around in the Kraken Club. Rumors spread. Members gossiped. In her years of membership Mrs. Whitmore must have heard countless stories of what happened to people who lost their good standing with the Kraken. To say nothing of the auctions she attended of those who defaulted on their membership dues.

Still, Angela knew there was no reason to spook her too badly. It was time to throw her a lifeline.

“That said, I doubt any punitive measures like that will be necessary. Nothing in the initial reports suggest that you were at fault for what happened. As I said before, you can expect your property to be back in your care by the end of the week.”

She wasn’t even lying. Mrs. Whitmore was an irritating twit of a woman, but she was more on the ball than other members of her wealth and standing. There were worse people Angela could be having this conversation with, who were even more arrogant and would be totally incapable of recognizing that they too could end up as collared property.

Besides, there was very little evidence to suggest this particular person was guilty of anything more than a minor lapse in attention. The investigation was still ongoing, but all the reports indicated that the former Mr. Mockford had actively looked for an opportunity to steal his cousin’s property during a party. And it seemed to have been done out of nothing more than spite, given the lack of evidence that the man had ever exhibited the slightest interest in owning male slaves.

“That’s… good, Angela. Thank you.”

Angela smirked. “In the meantime, if you wish to enact your own punitive measures on lot 77301 while you are waiting, that can easily be arranged. You can come in tomorrow. Or, if you are willing to wait a little longer, you can wait until your slave is returned and we will bring it directly to you at the same time, and you will have several hours to express your displeasure.

Or, if unforeseen information came to light, it would make for a useful way lure her into her collar.

The woman made a sound of surprise and excitement. “That sounds lovely, Angela. Thank you. I love a chance to take a paddle to that worthless degenerate as soon as possible. Would ten in the morning be an appropriate time?”

“I’ll personally make sure he’s ready for you. How does a strappado sound? With the longest spreader bar he can take, a spiked chastity cage, and cock gag in his throat?”

Mrs. Whitmore audibly smacked her lips. “Yes, thank you. Thank you very much. Good day, Angela.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Whitmore.”

Angela ended the call.