Against Her Will: The Abduction of Kat Bloom

Chapter 1

Against Her Will

The Capture of Kat Bloom

by

Lizbeth Dusseau

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

Copyright © 2005, All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the publisher.

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Pink Flamingo Publications

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P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083

USA

Cover Image © Roman Kasperski

www.RomanKasperski.de

Email Comments: comments@pinkflamingo.com

Scene One

A Call After Midnight

Ripped from a sound sleep, Alain answered the phone with a groggy, “Danvers here.”

“Captain Danvers?” The throaty female voice seemed barely able to speak.

“Yes, this is Danvers.”

“I’m sorry to bother you so late, sir. You must have been sleeping.”

“Yes, like a baby, who is this?”

“M-Meredith, Meredith Shaw, sir. From the office,” she paused, and when he didn’t respond, went on, “there’s been an incident.”

Meredith Shaw… yes, the pretty brunette clerk in his unit. Long hair, lovely body, whimpering sort of female angst that had on more than one occasion caused his c**k to engage. But not now. Not at two am.

“Incident? Where? What is this about?”

“I thought I should call you first. It’s my roommate, Kat. She’s disappeared.”

“You’re calling me in the middle of the night about a missing person?” he gruffly barked, as he ran his hand through his thick greying hair.

“No, sir. We think she’s been kidnapped from…” she suddenly stopped.

“From where?”

Her voice quavered miserably as she replied, “The X Club, sir.”

“You’re there now?” he was strangely aghast.

“Yes, sir. I think you’ll want to be here, too. I’m sure you’ll be called about this…and I could have called the station first, but I thought I should reach you now, you know the discretion thing…” she was rambling on and he wasn’t hearing very much of her confused blather, although he was finally getting his wits about him. Sitting up in bed helped.

“Is Ms. Argentine in the vicinity, Miss Shaw?”

“You know her, sir?”

“Would you just put her on the phone, please?”

There was a lot of shuffling about he could hear over the connection, as if the girl were walking. Then background voices and strange noises until he finally heard Ana Argentine’s lush, unhurried pitch.

“Alain this is Ana speaking.”

“Ana, it’s the middle of the night…why this call?”

“Been awhile, I’d say, hum?”

“No personal revelations, please, especially not in front of Miss Shaw. Why is she calling?”

“You’ll want to be here, Alain,” her tone less sumptuous now. “Kat Bloom is missing. Meredith’s roommate.”

“And what’s wrong with filing a missing person’s report?”

“The girl, the missing girl, she only took the name Kat Bloom about nine months ago when she had a falling out with her father,” Ana paused, “but I rather not say more…not over the phone. I don’t trust you or your department, not to have my place bugged. But you can trust, Captain Danvers, that your presence will be invaluable in this situation.”

“Yes, well give me a few minutes, in the meantime, try not to say too much in Miss Shaw’s presence.”

“You have my word.”

“Yes. Right.”

Meredith Shaw heard just one side of the conversation between Alain and the X-Club’s owner Ana Argentine. But her curiosity was piqued. Her boss must get around if he knew Mistress Ana by name. Maybe it was right to have called him. But he didn’t seem very happy about the situation. But then, maybe Meredith had just learned exactly what she wanted to know about the captain. Already her belly was feeling that familiar warm, squeamish rush she associated with her boss.

Even in middle age with greying hair and a ruddy face, Alain Danvers was a handsome man. Not necessarily the kind to turn a woman’s head. He was too closed, too curt for that on most occasions. But he was a man’s man sort of police captain, observant, clear-thinking and decisive. Strong, broad-shouldered and direct. He could peer over his glasses with a stare to cause an underling to shrivel, or reflect his amusement with no more than the slightly raised eyebrow, and a turn of his lip. Only after a few beers, only after work on a good day, could his grim look become a real smile, or a real smile turn into a genuine laugh.

On the other hand, Alain Danvers might be perfect for a woman seeking a dominant force to mature and guide her—which was probably why Meredith Shaw thought to call him first, before she called the station to report the crime. He might also have some tact considering the current situation in which she found herself—he would have found out sooner or later about her association with the X-Club. She couldn’t hide that fact, not now. But despite the way Kat’s disappearance was going to thrust her into the proximity of her boss, this had been a bad night, a very bad night.

Kat was gone. She’d disappeared into thin air and Meredith believed that she was the only one who could have prevented that from happening.

Scene Two

One Too Many Drinks

The girl knelt on the hardwood floor in the empty room; empty except for the wire cage with the fat padlock. She was a blonde now, short, spiky hair with dark roots – in fashion for the crowd she ran with. She had been a brunette and red head – as in scarlet red hair – since he’d been tracking her various incarnations. He didn’t particularly like the severity of her current hairstyle, but that could easily be changed.

“This is how it’s gonna be, Kat Bloom, that is your name, right?” As if she could answer.

The gag prevented her from speaking – the hobble from standing, the blindfold from seeing his face. This was how it would be for a while. He was a great believer in sensory deprivation, which would take his victims down to a core level from which he could remake them to suit his needs.

“Whatever life you had has just been erased. You like slipping into oblivion, well girl, oblivion is where you’ve arrived.”

Kat could feel his body moving around her, shuffling sounds on a hardwood floor. His anxious, feral energy loomed above her, swooping in around her and, if she were telling the truth, tickling her exposed privates – she’d worn a dangerously short skirt to the club that night, no panties. But then, exhibitionists like her love the feel of air on a naked snatch. Kat had been hot all night.

If she weren’t scared out of her wits, she might actually find her current situation stimulating. But this was no ordinary b**m scene, this no ordinary dominant man, playing master for the sport of it.

The feel of the ballgag being suddenly ripped from her mouth took her by surprise. Her head jerked, and she struggled to right herself with her hands tied tightly behind her back.

“I saw the drool. Rather unsightly, I think.” He mopped her wet mouth with a handkerchief and started circling again, feet shuffling as before.

“You are kidding, aren’t you?” she finally vented into the otherwise silent room.

He stopped directly behind her. “No. I’m not.”

His imperious eyes – she could feel them on the back of her neck – burned holes in everything from her skin to her composure. She’d make a plea bargain with God, confess every sin, swear off the life she loved – if only He would intervene.

“Please, let me go,” her whispering voice practically shouted. Everything was so quiet, so still, except for his shuffling feet. No sounds of traffic, or night birds singing or honking horns or cell phones. No street music, no conversation, no laughter, no humming computers. All absent. Except for his shuffling feet and his voice – and the anxious pounding in her body, the throbbing beat of rushing blood, the noisy discord of fear.

“Let you go… and waste my entire last two months? I guess, you didn’t hear what I said, did you? Or maybe you just didn’t believe me. But that really doesn’t matter, Kat Bloom. You’ll understand soon enough.”

“I don’t even know who you are…”

“No. You don’t. But you’ve seen me. I’m like a fly on the wall that haunts your club. The least likely candidate for master by anyone’s estimation. The fellow that lurks around the corners of your days, spies on your nights. You’ve seen me often and dismissed me, exactly as I expected you would. I didn’t want to be noticed, so I hung out in the shadows, tiptoed like an innocuous male sub, looking for some mistress’ boots to lick. Waiting. Watching. Until the opportunity for an abduction presented itself. You were there all the while…a statuesque subbie, all decked out in subbie’s garb, taking your beatings like a true submissive, though surrendering only when the mood struck your fancy, flicking off Dominant men who don’t pass muster as if they were annoying insects.” He chuckled darkly, “You’re a real piece of work, Kat Bloom.

“But…you looked so pretty to me that I couldn’t resist. Not your snapping eyes, your sexy swagger, your seductive voice.”

“That isn’t me! That’s just a game I play! Please, let me go.”

“Please, sir, let me go!”

“Please, sir, let me go!” she recited with the proper emphasis, hopefully.

Her black leather skirt was so tight that when kneeling it rode right up her thighs and exposed her dampening p***y. Boy, did it glisten in the soft spotlight that shown down from above. The lacy halter clung to her breasts so tightly that her n*****s stuck out like bullets. Spike heels – again her choice – pushed her well over six feet tall when she was standing. Now, tucked tight under her ass, the heels almost looked like daggers.

He’d covered her head with a hood at the time of the abduction, then added the collar after he shoved her into the back of the rented Chevy. She’d been in the playroom with Sir Guy for nearly an hour and was like formless putty when the master left her on the cross to fetch her a drink of water. All he had to do was release the clips, gather her into his arms, and carry her out the back door.

No one saw them leave, and by the time she noticed something was wrong, she was in the car, bound, gagged and weaving through traffic.

She must have still been numb when he carried her from the car into the barn and up to the second floor loft into the room that would become her home. The tethers that roped her ankles and wrists remained when he set her on the floor beneath the spotlight. He’d chosen thick, scratchy hemp because he liked the look, just as he liked the look of a kneeling woman. If he entertained any notion that Kat Bloom was a ready, willing submissive, then he’d be a fool. That would take time. A challenge? Yes. Doable? About this, he had no doubt. He’d accomplished the feat before.

“Let you go…not until I’m finished with you.”

“You can’t be doing this…it’s about my father, isn’t it? You want his money…a ransom… that’s it—”

He cut her off. “That would be easy for you, wouldn’t it? Sadly, my dear, it’s not about money. I have all that I could ever want and need and possibly spend. This is all about you…you and me.”

He crouched down on one knee and gently cupped her face in his hand, feeling the moisture from her tears leaking out from under the blindfold. He tenderly wiped it away with his thumb, and for just a moment could feel her being relent, as if her body wanted to surrender to his scheme.

She’d been drunk – almost literally – downing three stiff ones before she even entered the X-Club that night. This wasn’t normal. She normally didn’t drink before she partied on pain. Not that the two were exclusive of one another, but she usually figured that even sober, she could get enough endorphins flowing to give her a lasting high without the complications of alcohol.

Now her stomach had soured, probably as much from fear as the gin.

And her captor’s hand on her cheek only confused her fuzzy mind even more.

He didn’t want money, he wanted her…was that really true? Talking as if she’d been set up for months…who was he?

The queasy feeling in her stomach grew. He’d stalked her, chosen her from dozens of other likely subs, for what?

“You will let me go.”

“No, Kat,” he said. She could mentally see him shaking his head, “You belong to me now.”

She turned her face away from the gently fondling hand and prayed.

Scene Three

In The Palm of His Hand

Alain Danvers moved brusquely into the X-Club, letting his eyes survey the dimly lit S M lounge, while feeling a familiar titter of excitement and revulsion surface. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been in a place like this and he wasn’t too happy about being there now. Too many past associations. An air of darkness seemed appropriate for the nasty activities of a club like this; the ambiance of chains, the smell of leather and burning incense, and heavy metal music with a good strong beat. His flogging arm reflexively began to twitch, but his quick perusal of the club was dampened by the lack of anonymity his official looking presence produced. He’d managed to climb back into yesterday’s suit and had tossed on his tan raincoat to fend off the cold drizzle and late night winds. He stood inside the X-Club posing a stark contrast to the present clientele.