Under Evaluation

                       Under Evaluation   9

Velma Knox observed Private Detective Cody Wisnecki through the 2-way mirror of the closet sized observation room.  Velma had to give the blonde credit for not going bonkers the minute she realized she was so thoroughly restrained.  After Cody had awakened and began to look around, it was clear from her body language, that she was aware of the possibility of being watched. 

“She’s a cool cupcake, I’ll give her that.”  Velma had conceded.  “But she’s not yet come across the likes of me.”  The antagonist continued to watch, waiting for her prey to settle down.

“Aw, poor baby doesn’t like her wittle friends.”  Velma noted, when Cody had wedged herself in a corner, not willing to endure the shifting required of the prods to drop to the padded floor.

Having been taught patience under the tutelage of Mistress Rayne, Velma suppressed the urge to barge right in and start the fun.  She went off to fix herself a latte and a light snack.  Intentionally lingering over the sports page of the Inquirer (the Phillies lost AGAIN!), more than an hour passed before she checked in on her subject.  She immediately saw that Cody’s premeditated calm was beginning to crack.  The blonde was becoming more fidgety, unconsciously testing her restraints with more frequency.  Perfect.  Velma gathered up her items and prepared for introductions.

Cody’s increasingly desperate need to tinkle was instantly forgotten, as the muffled sound of a heavy bolt sliding open filtered through the door.  She kicked herself mildly for not having noticed the tiny LED light on the keypad changing from red to green.  That would have given her a few more moments to prepare a plan of attack. 

Now, she was caught in the far corner of the room, away from the door.  Trying to cover that distance quickly in the hobbles would be a wasted effort.  Fixing a calm, yet angry look (with the portion of her face that showed through the helmet), the PI waited for her keeper’s grand entrance.  Her expression flickered with surprise at the sight of who walked in.

Having had nothing better to do, Cody had reconstructed the jumbled events leading up to her current state.  Coming to the conclusion that she’d been drugged, the detective had expected Dr. Attenburg to stroll through the door.  It was instantly clear, that the pint-sized “Kinkerella” sauntering in was NOT the good doctor.  Cody had little doubt that she could have pummeled the waif except for two things.  The first being obviously, that she was very professionally restrained.  The second, was seeing one of the two items the stranger had in her hands.

The detective had watched the Animal Planet network enough to recognize the industrial sized cattle prod the woman held.  About 40” in length, the wand had a pair of brass prongs on its business end.  The handle end was the size of a small car vac, implying impressive battery capacity.  The woman flicked the tip up in Cody’s direction, whilst turning her back to the PI in order to manipulate the keypad.  The message was clear, “Stay right where you are.”

Once finished securing the door and locking the keypad’s protective cover, the woman turned to her “guest”.  The two women stood there, appraising each other.  If the situation weren’t so dire (and she wasn’t gagged so effectively), Cody might have laughed.  Her ‘nemesis’ was half a foot shy of 5’6” and that was with the towering stiletto heels she wore.  “Footwear” was an inadequate description of the white patent leather, combination thigh boots/chaps ensemble that encased her legs.  And the fetish wear didn’t stop there.

She wore a patent leather ‘teddy’, also white, though the cut reminded Cody of the Mono-kini swimsuit once popular.  The scandalously brief panty section circled her hips, the thin straps connected by a gold ring on each flank.  From there, narrow bands rose and crisscrossed, connecting with a belt passing around her waist above her navel.  Flaring out from this, were two vertical swatches perhaps 2” wide.  These swatches rose to cover the woman’s nipples and not very much else.  Their ascent ended in a halter-like connection behind her neck.  Around her neck she wore a white leather collar, complete with silver studs.  Capping off the costume, was a white leather “Lone Ranger” style mask.

And if that weren’t enough, sitting atop the woman’s head was a spiked clump of hair, dyed bright purple, with mango green accents.  Cody was almost glad she was gagged, a snicker almost assuredly slipping past her lips.  Her expression must have reflected this, for she saw the woman’s masked scowl deepen.

“Musn’t upset the wacko with the cattle prod.”  Cody cautioned herself.

Aside from the prod, the ‘girl’ carried a small, handled shopping bag proclaiming, “Saks 5th Ave.-Off 5th”.  No doubt from a purchase at the nearby Franklin Mills Mall.  Somehow, the detective didn’t think the bag contained perfume.

As the woman began walking toward her, Cody was amazed at the easy grace in which she did so.  Barefoot, it had taken the detective a few strides before becoming comfortable with the cell’s spongy, padded floor.  This woman had obviously had a lot of practice walking in severe heels over varying terrain.  As she approached, she held the wand casually to her side.  Cody wasn’t fooled.  A mere twist of the wrist and the weapon could be brought “at the ready” in an instant.

“Shorty” stopped about three feet away.  The two women eyed each other up in silence.  Finally, the shorter woman knelt, again making it look so easy, and placed the bag on the floor.  She reached inside the bag and withdrew and irregularly shaped, pink strap.  Cody noted the two, circular bulges of yellow, open cell foam rubber attached to the two corresponding widest sections of leather.

“A blindfold.”  The blonde identified immediately.  “And a VERY effective one, by the looks of it.”

The recognition must have crossed her face, perhaps mixed with just a touch of fear.  Being bound and silenced was one thing, not being able to see, jacked things up to another level.  “Shorty” made a gesture that was crystal clear.  “Are you going to let me put this on?  Or are you going to give me a hard time?”  She appeared obviously disappointed, when Cody let out a sigh, but didn’t move.

“This one is definitely cagey.”  Velma thought.  “And smart, too.” 

“She’ll be a tough nut to crack.  But oh, how I like a challenge.”  And then, Velma spoke for the first time since entering.

“My name is Mistress Velma, slave.”  Her voice surprisingly deep for a person her size.  “Not ‘Shorty’ or ‘Half-Pint.”

Cody’s eyes involuntarily arched in surprise.  Could this woman possibly be psychic?  It was only then that she noticed, that the helmet her head was crammed in to was equipped with some pretty impressive, sound dampening material over her ears.  She’d barely heard the words uttered at an obviously conversational volume.

“Why would they want me practically deaf, here in the bowels of the hospital?”  The detective wondered.  “Or am I somewhere else?  Well, I‘ll find out soon enough.”

Velma witnessed the brief reaction and was pleased.  She’d gauged the detective’s emotional state correctly.  The blonde did not yet appreciate the deep shit she was in.  Even bound, the PI retained a certain level of haughtiness, reinforced by Velma’s small stature.  It was going to be a treat, bringing this lithe beauty down a few pegs.

Warily reaching out, Velma secured the snaps on the blindfold to their mates riveted to the side of the helmet.  Before swing the blinder into position, Velma’s lavender tinted eyes bore into Cody’s blue.

“You and I are going to have a LOT of fun.”  She purred.  “Now, are you going to behave yourself?”

The detective’s eyes locked with her captor’s for a long, drawn out moment, then dropped to the padded floor.  Cody let out a defeated sigh as she did so.  What was the point?  What options did she have?  Kick her with a bare and hobbled foot?  She’d probably wind up breaking a toe on her assailant’s shin.  Velma stood too far away for a surprise head butt.  And were she somehow able to incapacitate the runt, what then?  She’d still be straight jacketed and locked in a room from which she hadn’t been able to escape from up to this point.

“No,” the blonde thought, “let her have her jollies now.  Sooner or later she’s gonna grow lax and make a mistake.  THEN we’ll see who’s got the shit eatin’ grin.”

Velma’s face frowned as she was obviously disappointed once more.  Then she stretched the blindfold across eyes that flickered a tad of apprehension.  Snapping the other end in place, Velma stepped back.  There were many parts of this job she loved and this was one of them.  To a “man”, each captive reacted the same way when first blindfolded.  Cody Wisnecki was no different.  The blonde’s perfect, spring-tanned nose poked out through a field of pink, pointing this way and that, as her head turned from side to side, then cocked left and right, trying in vain to catch any glint of light that might slip past the blinder.

Cody was in fact, trying to find any chink in the padded blindfold.  As it had closed in over her eyes, she’d shut her eyelids instinctively.  When the final snaps were clicked in place, the seal was uniform and consistent.  She sensed a lessening pressure directly over her eyeballs and deduced that the padding was concave at that point.  Cautiously, she pried one eye open.  Sure enough, there was a tiny air pocket in which her lid could flutter freely.  Not that it did her any good.  Open or closed, her vision could not detect anything but a cloying vastness of black.

“Hold still.”  Came Velma’s muffled, disembodied voice.

“Riiight,” thought Cody, “like I was just about to kick your scrawny ass, now that the odds are even.”

The blonde felt a sudden touch against the portion of the helmet that covered her throat.  In a heartbeat, something roughly 3” wide encircled her neck.  Then it began to constrict.  Alarmingly.

“A collar!”  Cody thought indignantly.  Somehow, she knew with certainty, that it was pink.

The blonde felt a leather clad thigh brush against the back of her own.  Blinded, Cody must have stepped out of the corner without realizing it, “Mistress Velma” had taken the opportunity to step in behind her.  Not being in contact with the walls, quadrupled the bound beauty’s disorientation.  Well, that didn’t mean she had to play helpless heroine.  Cody stood tall, intent on making the securing of the collar more difficult.

And she succeeded, to a point.  However, in spite of her height disadvantage, Velma was still able to buckle the collar in place.  But not before giving it an extra tug as punishment for the insubordination.  The purple haired pixie doubted that the blonde could feel the weight of the padlock hanging from the collar’s buckle.  But no doubt, Mistress Rayne would appreciate the shrimp’s thoroughness, when reviewing the multi-angled recording of the detective’s preparation.

Meanwhile, Cody mentally kicked herself for her stubbornness.  She’d managed to make it only fractionally more difficult for Velma to fit her with the collar and been stuck with the consequence.  The stiff hide now squeezed her throat rather alarmingly, her breaths wheezing in and out.  It would not have made her any less apprehensive, to know that no matter how she’d responded, the collar would have been fitted with the same enthusiasm.

Velma took a moment and stepped back to examine her prisoner.  She was a beaute, the woman had to admit.  Her long, firm legs appeared to have doubled in length, thanks to the cut of the straightjacket and crotch strap.  Her almost certain C-Cup bust bulged over her folded arms.  And although the helmet masked her features, its fit was tight enough to highlight the delicate bone structure of Cody’s beautiful face. 

Yup, she was practically a goddess alright.  A tall, leggy, stunningly beautiful woman.  Velma HATED tall, leggy, stunningly beautiful women.  And she kept a particularly dark, feral, unadulterated hatred in her cold heart for tall, leggy, stunningly beautiful blonde women.  She sneered at the knowledge of what was going to happen to the detective who was quite literally, in the dark.  From the Saks bag, Velma retrieved a pair of pink, 1” straps.  No sense spoiling the color scheme now.

The first went around Cody’s knees, a vicious jerk snapping the joints together.  The other went higher up, at mid-thigh.  This one was drawn even more brutally tight, no doubt clamping the flesh of her vulva down hard on the edges of the crotch strap.  As testament to this, a soft, prolonged yelp drifted out from behind the hood.

“She thinks this is tough?”  Speculated Velma.  “She hasn’t seen tough yet.”

The last item in the bag, was a silver rod roughly twelve inches long and ˝” in diameter.  Velma thumbed a tiny button on the shaft and telescoped it outward.  The rod grew to twice its length.  Each end sported a small metal eyelet.  The shaft was actually aluminum, though that did nothing to diminish its strength.  With the light touch of a surgeon, the violet haired villain threaded a padlock through a ring on the front of Cody’s collar and then through one of the rod‘s eyelets.  Once locked in place, Velma began pulling on the rod.  Cody resisted against the tug.

“C’mon, cunt” growled Velma loud enough for her prisoner to hear, “bend at your waist.  What’s going to happen is inevitable, so you might as well go easy on yourself.”

Cody heard this and couldn’t argue the logic.  Still, it felt wrong just to give in.  But she capitulated and bent forward at the waist.  The prods buried inside her, nearly forgotten, shifted as if to say, “Hello, we’re still here!”  Cody bent further at the pull’s insistence, her balance becoming less a sure thing.  As the other end of the rod neared its target, Velma readied the last padlock.  Then, with one last jerk, slipped the lock through the rod’s eyelet  and a ring on the blonde’s knee strap.  She let go of the shaft and watched the end result.

Cody bucked in an effort to straighten back up.  Failing that, she tried to bend further at the waist.  The rod stymied this as well.  The blonde wailed in frustration at what was, more or less, a permanently stooped posture.  Bent at 45 degrees, Cody could feel the strain being placed on the muscles of her lower back.  Though there was no discomfort yet, she knew that would soon change.  The detective started shuffling around blindly in mincing steps.

“This definitely sucks.”  She thought once more.  She had no idea how “sucky” it was about to get.

She felt the light touch on her exposed right ass cheek, a millisecond before her world exploded.  Cody would have never imagined such pain existed.  Every nerve in her body seemed to be alight as if set on fire.  A scream froze in her throat, every muscle suddenly frozen rigid.  Her blood pressure seemed to shoot up a hundred points, her skull threatening to burst like a water balloon.  And the agony.  It just would not pass.  Cody realized she couldn’t draw a breath.  She truly believed that this was the end.

After triggering the cattle prod, Velma gleefully watched the effects.  This was another part of her job she loved.  Her captive, restrained in “Sweet 16 Pink” tensed, a primeval scream lodging in her throat as her body’s wiring short circuited.  Then she started to spasm uncontrollably, pitching over on to her side.  Velma waited for the effects to pass, then leaned in close.

“That’s for being such a candy ass and not putting up a fight.”  she growled at the leather encased head.

A minute passed, perhaps two, before Cody’s hitching breaths settled into ragged sobs.  That’s when Velma stabbed the prod into her left ass cheek.  The blonde went rigid once more, then her legs began whip-cracking back and forth.  If she thought the first zap was bad, the second hit her with ten times the ferocity.  What kept her from passing out, she’d never know.  Her nerves refused to stop transmitting the suffering felt in every molecule.  Even her hair seemed to crackle with electricity.  During this time, the private investigator’s bladder emptied, adding yet another stain to the collage marring the padding.

Cody took much longer to recover from the second zapping, but Velma waited patiently.  The sadistic pixie with eggplant colored hair had nothing but time.  Finally, when she determined that her words would register, she leaned in once more.

“And THAT’S what would have happened if you had put up a fight.”  She assured her prisoner.

Cody’s only answer was a long, warbling moan.  She was cognizant enough to know that she was in a lose/lose situation.  Somehow, someway, she had to get free.  Before this bitch killed her.