Kaitlyn was a bitch, that much she readily admitted. In her professional life, she had things exactly the way she wanted. Her co-workers, and certainly her subordinates, had to do everything her way or face her wrath, which was often subtle or vindictive. She had driven others out of their jobs when she felt it was necessary for the firm, and felt completely justified whenever she had to maneuver someone into getting fired. She was not overly-empathetic, and in general was not a giving person, except for her time, and that she gave to work. She was a slave to the firm, and did everything she could to be completely professional, and to make sure everyone marked her for advancement the moment they came across her path.
She was short, at 5' 3", but had a subtle aura of power, even for all her lack of stature. Her breasts were over-large for her size, and she often thought about getting them reduced, but it was something she hadn't managed to do, yet. The custom-sized bras she bought were expensive, but they were the only thing that could support and define them. When she was naked, which she tried to avoid, she was overly-critical of every aspect of her body, but especially her boobs. They were just too big, she always thought, never knowing the lustful stares they attracted from men on the street.
She was also completely unaware that most men found her heart-shaped ass delicious, and she usually wore clothes that de-emphasized her figure, anyway. She knew her hourglass-shaped body was a few pounds overweight, but never managed to do anything about it. Getting in better shape was always a project for "someday", and she always felt that her work, and her vision of her work, was more important, more demanding of her time.
Her hair was long and brown with streaks of premature grey in it, but she didn't bother to do much with it, preferring instead to have it pulled up tightly into a bun. The effect it had on her face was to make her look years older, and emphasize the severity of her features, an effect she quite liked. She liked to think that, with her hair up, she was more powerful.
The one area that Kaitlyn had absolutely no control in was in her relationships with men. They usually seemed to find her off-putting and too intense for their tastes, so she spent years between dates. She had been raised in a strict household, and was more than a bit prudish about sex, so her needs went completely unfulfilled. She didn't bother to masturbate, she didn't own a dildo, and the thought of buying personal lubricant at a grocery store was much too much for her. She frequently found her vagina too dry during intercourse, at least when she was in fact having some, and typically asked her intermittent boyfriends to buy lubricant to use with her, since otherwise her vagina was too dry for comfortable intercourse.
Kaitlyn's world was ordered the way she wanted it, at least those parts that she deemed important. All the sex stuff, the relationship issues, and her body's needs besides being incredible at her job, were pushed aside. Katilyn lived the life she wanted. Or so she thought.
Kaitlyn woke up slowly, fuzzy from her long sleep, as so often happened at the cottage. It was so far from everything, removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, removed from the down-state world, like it was all on its own, a little island of tranquility. Kaitlyn always slept long and hard up there.
Today was different, though. The first thing she noticed was the strong smell of new leather. She layed there, with her eyes closed for a long time, the word just sitting on the stoop of her mind. Leather. It just made no sense. Why would she smell leather? It was ridiculous, in a way, and Kaitlyn was tempted to just go back to sleep rather than think about it.
Instead, she opened her eyes, and for the first time, felt the blindfold in place over them. Dim light filtered in around its edges, but try as she might, she couldn't see anything at all. A sudden movement of her wrists, as she tried to snatch the blindfold away from her face, and she finally felt the other strange thing. Her wrists were suspended, and there were unyielding bands of cloth around them. She couldn't move them from their place above her head. A quick panic thrilled along Kaitlyn's body. Who could have done this, she wondered. She thought of a prank, but no, no one she knew would risk jail time over a horrible practical joke. And that meant it just couldn't be one.
She drew her knees up, to try to get her legs underneath her and get up, but found that her ankles were tied, too, and that she couldn't move much more than a half inch, no matter how she tried. She was firmly bound, even by the ankles, and her legs were spread wide open.
She tried to call out, but found her mouth had something tied over it, and the most noise she could bring out of herself was a quiet moan.
The covers were quickly growing warm from her body. She tried to think. No one she knew would do this to her, and not many people even knew she was here this weekend; she came up north from the city only intermittently, and often didn't know if she'd be going or not until that very afternoon. She had a sudden thought of her neighbors: maybe Oma and her sons would notice. . .she pushed that thought away quickly. She realized that she knew they wouldn't be around this weekend at all, and they were here closest neighbors. The odds that someone would see into her place from across the pond it stood against were slim. Her captor, whoever he was, had planned this right.
In the darkness of her blindfold, she tried to focus her thoughts. What to do? Wait for a chance to escape, that was all she could do. The bonds tying her arms and legs were just too tight to slip out of, and she wasn't hopeful that she had the strength to do so, either. Maybe her captor would let her go, eventually? But why did he have her, in the first place? Why----her thoughts broke off as she heard the radio in the kitchen switch on, filling the tiny cottage with unfamiliar music. It was instrumental guitar, something she couldn't place, and loud enough she couldn't hear any of the cottage's usual background noises.
