PREVIOUSLY -- Jonathan comes home from work to discover that Jasmine, the love of his life, has been kidnapped. He receives a phone call from her abductor and walks to a nearby motel where he is also captured. Mistress Cassandra introduces herself and tells Jon that unless he submits to her whims, he will never see Jasmine again. Faced with that awful prospect and his own mounting desire for Cassandra, Jon agrees to wear the mistress' collar.
***
I lay face down and naked on the carpeted floor of a room that I guessed was devoid of most furnishings, judging by the echoes. A length of opaque silk had been fashioned into a very effective blindfold for me, while a wad of silk sealed behind a leather muzzle kept my contemplations silenced. The collar around my neck limited my head movement slightly but was not overly tight. I squirmed slightly, listening to the creaking of leather ankle and wrist cuffs and hand mitts mixing with the dull jingles of padlocks and metal hardware that imprisoned my limbs. A cord had been looped between my ankles and wrists, hogtying me.
I guessed that the journey from the hotel where I had been abducted by Mistress Cassandra to this place had taken a half-hour, mostly spent in the trunk of a luxury car. Someone had gone to the trouble of carefully padding the floor of the trunk. The ride to this place had been smooth and lacking in any sort of auditory landmarks as the classical music from the car's stereo system covered all but the rumble of the wheels on the pavement below. I truly had no idea where I was -- or where Jasmine was, for that matter.
I stiffened as I heard the voices of two women outside the door. Then I heard a doorknob being unlocked and turned, feeling the gentle rush of air the opening door made across my naked skin. Something large was set upon the floor of the empty room, followed by two smaller items. The door closed again, but I could feel that whoever had entered the room still remained. There was a scent in the air, familiar and comforting. It took me all of three seconds to place it.
JASMINE!!
"Jonathan!" she exclaimed in hushed tones as she crouched down next to me, her shaking fingers untying the knot of silk that made the blindfold fast to my head. And then I could see her beautiful green eyes regarding me with maternal concern. She helped me to my knees and then threw her arms around me, clutching me tightly. I buried my face in her long, dark tresses, tears streaking my cheeks in relief that she was all right.
It was only when she released me several long moments later that it dawned on me that she was also naked, adorned with wrist and ankle cuffs of leather and a collar with a metal ring mounted on it under her chin. Jasmine was oblivious to my observations as she quickly assessed my bonds. She undid the cord between my ankles and wrists, and spent a few moments working some feeling back into my calves and feet with her warm hands as I lay on the floor again.
I looked around as she worked and saw that a wooden straight chair had been brought into the room. Two bottles of water had been placed next to it. The room was painted beige brick about twenty feet on a side and about half that high. There were no windows and just a single heavy wooden door. The upper portions of the walls held a number of small fixtures for low-wattage indirect lighting of the room. Above me was a small air vent and a functional-looking ceiling fan.
The room also had a number of metal hooks and eyelets mounted at various heights along the wall opposite the door. At the wall toward my feet was a mounted pegboard holding multiple coils of rope of various lengths, mounted containers for metal clip links and padlocks, gags, blindfolds, leather straps with metal buckles, hoods, paddles, floggers and many other items that I could not readily identify. The wall toward my head had a large wooden wardrobe cabinet that was closed.
My gaze returned to my lovely lady, somehow more desirable than I had ever seen her -- her nakedness enhanced by the leather fetters and collar she wore. Her glossy, ebony tresses cascaded in loose waves down her shoulders as she moved, the ends tickling the swell of her breasts. Her barren hips and buttocks moved in pleasing ways as she checked me over, and I felt the familiar longing for her, accentuated by the bonds that kept me from touching her at all.
Jasmine happened to glance down at my privates and smiled at the stirrings of an erection. The smile quickly faded, though. "I love you too, sweetheart," she said softly to me, "but you need to be a good boy for Mistress Cassandra now." She planted a warm, lingering kiss on my forehead and then hastily retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.
I squeezed tears from my eyes as I realized that I was alone again -- somehow more alone than I had been before Jasmine's visit. "What the hell is going on?" I murmured into the wadding of my gag. I thought Jasmine had been kidnapped, but if that was true, then why hadn't she fled? And why would I have to be a good boy for Cassandra if Jasmine seemingly wasn't in danger?
My musings were interrupted by a knock at the door, just before it was opened. My breath caught as I saw her again -- my captor had returned.
Mistress Cassandra's crimson tresses drawn tightly behind her head in a bun, held in place by a pair of large, lacquered hair pins. She had put on more dramatic makeup, emphasizing contrasts of light and shadow on her face. Her lipstick was blood-red, her blue eyes were framed in black and blue shadow, and her blush was a glorious rose. Gone were the blouse and skirt, revealing a black satin corset with blood red trim and edged in feathery lace. A pair of keys dangled just above the swells of her exposed cleavage on a gold necklace chain.
The motif continued with her garter belt that held up sheer, glossy black stockings. Her silk thong panties also copied the style, worn over the garters. Her feet were clad in sandals with stiletto heels, an intricate set of black patent leather straps winding sinuously around her feet and ankles to end in small brushed silver buckles. Her hands and arms were sheathed in red satin opera gloves, with black wrist cuffs buckled over them.
