Chapter Two - The Lawyer
Holly Bradbury had attended Harvard University and graduated from her Masters
Degree with Distinction. She was one of only three people in her graduating
class to receive such an honour and had been headhunted by all the major law
firms across North America (as well as a significant number in Europe). She had
finally gone to work for Davidson, Hall and Davidson - not only the finest firm
in New York City, but a significant money-earner for the powerful Davidson
Global conglomerate. In her first three years as a greener than green junior
associate she had been labeled "Drought-breaker" on the way to becoming the
firm's highest gross revenue earner. She was offered a junior partnership with
the firm at age 28, but declined, opting instead to start her own practice.
Within four more years, she was the most successful private attorney on the
Eastern seaboard - but also the most exclusive. Holly made a habit of working
only with women; the richer the better.
The reasons for her success were numerous - at least, that was what Holly
herself had always believed. She was the first to admit that the expensive,
short-skirted suits and stiletto heels she generally wore were of no harm to her
career. Neither were her long mane of chestnut coloured hair or her startlingly
blue, long lashed eyes. Holly often acknowledged that her large 34D bust and her
perfectly toned, stocking-clad legs were also considerably more than a
hindrance.
But anyone who had ever spoken to Holly would wave such physical considerations
aside. Not that they were denying she was both beautiful and wonderfully
proportioned. Oh no. What they instead pointed to was her razor sharp intellect
- that, for example, enabled her to leap upon any particular discrepancy in a
witness' testimony and turn it to her advantage - as well as her impressive
ability to meet any challenge head on, and beat it with an uncanny recall of
previous rulings that left the most diligent of DAs floundering for their aides.
What these people did not know was that a large part of Holly's success had long
been directly attributable to a special few of the rich women that she serviced.
Women that made their living by engaging in a form of enterprise that perhaps
even predated prostitution.
In a word: Slavery.
So with all her beauty and brains it should really have come as no surprise to
Holly Bradbury that she would one day end up bound into an extremely compact
ball and lying on her side in the modern equivalent of a dungeon cell. Such was
the nature of the people that she dealt with. She had always known it was a
risk, but to actually be here - face pressed against the tops of her knees, arms
long ago numb and useless behind her, mouth effectively silenced - was
terrifying beyond belief.
The fact that she had recently sold out one of her clients after being caught in
possession of more than two pounds of uncut cocaine meant that Holly not only
knew who had ordered her kidnapping, but that she had every reason to be
terrified.
Madame Elsa Von Kepp was not known for her gentle treatment of slaves.
Holly squirmed futilely, her sobs of despair deadened by the layered gag in and
around her mouth. She was bound with a coarse rope that she suspected had
deliberately been chosen to maximize her discomfort, as it itched constantly
wherever it pressed into her unprotected flesh. Which was just about everywhere.
Rope bound her hands plan-to-palm, crushed her elbows together, harnessed her
large breasts, pinned her arms to her sides, and imprinted itself in her ankles,
calves and thighs. Worse, it bent her double so that the top half of her body
was pressed against her thighs, impeding her vision, while her wrists were also
tightly hogtied to her ankles. The worst of her discomfort, however, was
centered on the long length of rope that had been wrapped around her stomach
half a dozen times, pulled down between her legs and into her pussy to saw
against her clitoris. The rope was then savagely ripped upwards and attached to
her wrist bonds, ensuring that her discomfort was not only acute but that she
could not lift her hands away from the small of her back.
The gag was little better. The two thugs that had kidnapped Holly from outside
her office had made silencing her their first priority and she was still
suffering from the fruits of their labour. Her mouth was severely packed with
her black satin panties and the sleeves of her starched shirt that had been
physically torn from her arms. Several strips of duct tape were smoothed over
her mouth but were hidden from view by the dark blue medical bandage that was
wrapped many times around her lower face. Holly knew that this in turn had to be
at least partially obscured by the second layer of tape which was also wrapped
around and around her mouth, enhancing the already effective gag and making it
difficult to draw breath. Each effort to vocalize her discomfort, fear or
frustration simply resulted in a short battle to reign in her "gag" reflex as
the sodden material in her mouth threatened to slide down her throat.
Consequently, Holly remained still and silent, lying on her side, as the heavy
door to her cell was opened and a clicking of heels crossed the floor toward
her.
"Well now, what do we have here?" asked a discernibly accented voice. "A bug, if
I'm not mistaken. And the worst kind of bug as far as I'm concerned ... A
gold-digging slug!"
Holly choked back a sob, terrified by the venom in Madame Von Kepp's tone.
"Do you know what I like to do with that kind of slug? Hmmm? Squash them!"
Something hard crashed down on Holly's up-turned side, blasting what little
breath she had managed to draw past the gag from her lungs. She coughed and
choked in relative silence, ignoring the pain, trying to breathe. Her tormentor
paced around her, waiting patiently and it was only when Holly had almost
recaptured her breath that Madame Von Kepp again stomped on her side.
By the time she was done choking a second time, Holly could feel a tugging on
the rope pressed against the back of the neck. It soon snapped free and she was
abruptly able to move from her enforced position for the first time in what felt
like days. The muscles in her lower back sang with the pain of being stretched
for so long, but Holly was not even able to grant them a full respite, as the
rope hogtying her wrists to her ankles was still securely in place.
She looked up to see Madame Von Kepp folding a switchblade closed as she
straightened. She looked extremely imposing in a hip-hugging, knee-length
leather skirt, long sleeved white shirt and short black gloves. Her legs were
encased to the knee in leather boots complete with a five inch stiletto heels
that looked as if they were made for inflicting pain. Her long hair was back in
a severe bun, while the bridge of her nose sported fashionable black-rimmed
glasses. Her right hand held a black riding crop.
"Now listen carefully, slug. I'm going to ask a series of simple questions and
you're going to answer them." She held up a gloved index finger warningly.
"Without hesitation. Am I making myself understood?"
Holly could think of no way out of her predicament and so began to nod her head.
She was halfway through the first nod when - thwap! - the riding crop sizzled
through the air to smack against her exposed left breast.
"Too slow, slug. I said 'without hesitation'. Now, am I making myself
understood?"
Biting down hard on the mass of cloth in her mouth, Holly this time nodded her
head vigorously.
"Good. All questions will require 'yes' or 'no' answers, meaning that I will not
have to remove your gag at any time." Madame Von Kepp smiled thinly. "After all,
the only good lawyer is a gagged one. The final rule is that you will be
completely honest at all times. If I suspect you are lying to me, I will place
ten strokes on each of your breasts, before having you partially untied and hung
from the ceiling with your legs spread to have ten more placed on your exposed
cunt. Again I ask: do you understand?"
Holly nodded quickly.
"Then we will begin." Madame Von Kepp resumed her pacing, affording Holly only
the occasional sight of her and the riding crop. "Are you aware that I have been
targeted by the local police force?"
She nodded, making sure that the gesture was emphatic enough to be seen from
behind.
"Were you in anyway involved in the information that the police received?"
Another nod.
"Did you tip them off as to my business in slavering?"
Holly shook her head, terrified by the thought that Madame Von Kepp would think
she had voluntarily sold her out. There was a slight pause before the next
question, as if her tormentor was considering whether to make good on her
threat.
"Did you have contact with the police in the past month?"
A definite nod to show how eager she was to be honest.
"Were you arrested and asked to provide information on me?"
Another nod.
"So you gave me up to save yourself from a charge?"
A small, cringing nod.
"And how did you think I would respond to this?"
Holly paused, confused by how she could answer with a nod or shake of her head.
Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Three blows fell on her bound left breast. Holly shrieked
in agony, but before she could even begin choking on her gag, the crop was
hitting her again and again and again. On her breast. On her side. On her ass
and her bound hands. On her legs. Everywhere. Over and over again.
At one point, Holly must have rolled over, because when the crop finally stopped
its descent, the right side of her body was just as welt-covered as the left.
She lay helplessly on the cold stone floor, still stringently hogtied and
gagged, every nerve ending seemingly aflame; while above Madame Von Kepp, cheeks
flushed, slowly regained her breath.
"That was nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you, slug." She lightly
ran the crop along Holly's thigh. "I plan on keeping you here for a very long
time." The iciest of smiles distended her lips. "Forever, in fact."
Holly struggled against her bonds, trying to squirm free, find a knot, anything,
as Madame Von Kepp walked over to the cell's entryway. Even so, the kidnapped
lawyer clearly heard her captor's next words - words that prompted a thrill of
absolute dread to course through her and momentarily overwhelm the pain from her
cropping.
"Have the bronze mould prepped and ready for use in an hour. It's been too long
since I commissioned a statue, and I'd hate for Catelyn Barathe to think I was
furnished with anything less than impeccable taste ..."
