Elena gets her bald eagle

“Ughhhh…”

Elena groans as she comes to on a Spartan single bed, her eyes adjusting in the dim room. Tiny shadows dance on the wall in front of her. She cranes her head to get a look at their source, but only so far. She catches a glimpse of metal collar around her neck, long links of bike chain leading towards a hook in the wall.

So much for getting out of here.

A draft of cold air blows over her, chilling her skin. She darts her eyes across the room, searching for her clothes to no avail. Then it dawns on her. She’s naked. Anyone who wants can walk in here and have their way with her, and she’d have little recourse to defend herself.

The invitation at the office, the party, it was all a setup, and she was the mark. Elena curses her decision to go. She let her greed and ambition get in the way. Now it’s all led to this.

Her ears perk up at the sound of a door creaking. Her heart speeds up at the pitter-patter of footsteps. She attempts to scream, only to have her cries muffled by a cloth in her mouth. She runs her tongue around the cotton material in her mouth. A briny aftertaste lingers.

Come. Not just any, hers. Must be her panties then. At least one article of clothing is accounted for.

As the stranger inches closer, hopes of rescue flood her head. The logical side of her says otherwise. She closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep. Maybe then whoever it is will leave her alone.

“Wakey Wakey.” The molasses-like voice croons.

Elena tries to shield her eyes, grimacing in pain as she suddenly realizes she’s to do. Even her hands are bound, it seems. The silhouette of the figure appears strikingly familiar, but in her haze she can’t quite place a name. As the stranger steps into the light, the woman’s wavy blond curls send a shiver through the captive’s spine.

Her eyes go wide at the sight of Donna, naked and confident as ever. Her supple white skin radiates in the glow of the sun. Elena catches sight of an raised indentation with the initials KY in just above her limo driver’s shaven pubic mound in raised, various questions racing through her head. Does KY stand for jelly? Kentucky? A lover, perhaps?

“Guess what I brought.” Donna smiles impishly as she produces a straight razor and shaving cream.

Elena tries to shake her head, her neck aching each time. She bites her tongue and ignores the pain.

“What? Afraid I’ll cut you?” Donna’s voice is wounded, as though she’d just been accused of stealing someone’s boyfriend or something. “Don’t you know me better than that?”

Never mind that the two women didn’t even meet until the previous evening.

Donna walks slowly toward her, tension building in each step. It doesn’t help that Elena’s posture is less than relaxed, thanks in no small part to the conditions of her bondage. If there’s ever been a time for a Deus Ex Machina, it’s now. Except, there are no such things in the real world, nor will help ever come. Not for the next several minutes.

Elena catches sight of a collar around the limo driver's neck, similar to her own, but cast in pewter instead of stainless steel. The significance is unclear. It could be nothing more than a fashion statement. Not like she's going to find out--this isn't tea time.

The blonde caresses the captive’s feet, admiring its smoothness. She massages the soles gently, working from ball to toe and back again in a slow, continuous movement. Elena fights the urge to loosen her shoulders in a bid of defiance. Yet already she can sense her muscles slacking. She takes in a deep breath, waiting to see what fate has in store for her.

“Before I met Mistress,” Donna works her fingers between the toes. “I was a licensed masseuse. Men and women, rich and poor, they all sought out my touch. I worked on backs, necks…feet. It wasn’t as glamorous as yours, I’m sure, but I took care of myself well.”

A tingling shoots up Elena’s feet. She grows giddy and lightheaded, her muffled giggles surprising Donna. A muffled moan escapes the former’s lips, somewhat pleased with the impromptu session. It’s a brief one, though, as Donna switches tactics, kissing up and down her leg. As she makes her way toward Elena’s mound, she alternates between inner and outer thigh in a series of sensuous kisses.

“Now for the real show to begin.”

Donna lathers her hands, working the shaving cream vigorously thrown the tufts of brown hair. The sensation is unfamiliar to Elena, but her mind is too occupied to care. Her entire love box is soon covered in white. She shivers at the feeling of cold steel against skin as Donna presses the razor against her body.

“Be perfectly still.” Donna whispers. “Can you do that for me? Blink if you understand.”

After getting the go-ahead, Donna cautiously and deliberately runs the device over Elena’s sex. An overwhelming sense of sadness fills the intern, as her pussy is shorn of its covering. She’s felt a strong attachment to them since puberty, not unlike a furniture piece of furniture. A small price to pay compared to what she might face if she lingers here any longer. But still…

“****-Donna?” The knock at the door is loud and insistent. “Is the captive ready to begin her initiation?”

“Yes, ****-Myra”

She kisses Elena’s belly. As she rises, Elena gets a glance of the initials again, the cursive script etched into her mind. Donna blows her a kiss as a raven-haired woman opens the door, a pair of burly men in tow.