Blake was an asshole, Regina told herself once again. That's what made it so thrilling.

Blake was the sales manager for PicoTech, a strutting rooster risen from the cold calls and deadbeat accounts to become the company's golden boy, all before he turned forty. He'd been after Regina for two years, ever since she was hired to whip accounts receivable into shape. He brought in the business, Blake loved to tell her, and she made sure they paid up. It was a match made on the balance sheet, so why didn't they combine their assets?

Regina burst out laughing the first time he used that on her. Blake grinned as he backed away. But he always came back. Never so overbearing as to trigger a harassment charge—Regina wouldn't have much of a case—but he pestered her for a date often enough to be—well, an asshole.

Not that Blake didn't have reason to try to get into her pants. Regina was tall, blonde, and gorgeous. She garnered immediate attention in any situation; she was used—too used—to guys hitting on her. Or trying to. It was the same old story. Guys who might have been decent were often too intimidated to approach her competently, while guys who were not had the schmooze skills that sometimes broke through her defenses. Guys like Blake.

What was worse, Regina's "preference" made it harder to find the right guy. Maybe because it was too overwhelming that a stunner like Regina would be into something like that, but, oftentimes, the decent guys would bail out when she dared to reveal it. On the other hand, the assholes didn't mind, but they simply couldn't be trusted. Not that she didn't learn the hard way with them, opening herself up, only to be hurt and only partially fulfilled.

That's why Regina found herself practicing alone. Flying solo, she called it, as she was doing on this quiet Saturday afternoon. Alone in the spotless master bathroom of her suburban townhouse, she gazed into the mirror as she applied the shiny red gloss to her full lips. She had already made up her big blue eyes; her expert application of eye shadow, liner, and mascara symbolized the meticulousness and attention to detail she brought to her work.

It was hard for people to get past her stunning looks to see the wholly capable woman within. Regina had to keep proving her abilities as an analyst, as a supervisor, as a woman, to force people to get past the notion of her being a painted Barbie doll come to life. Or so she believed. But she did believe, and that was the problem. Regina's drive to succeed, to show to everyone she met that she was the correct professional, alienated as many as were attracted to her physically. She'd heard the whispers, the mutterings, the overheard gossip. Ice Queen. Stuck-up Bitch. Lipstick Lesbian.

She pretended not to care, but she couldn't simply leave it on her desk when it came time to go home. Even when, ever the perfectionist, she was one of the last to go home. Home didn't hold much for her. A stylish townhouse, tastefully decorated, didn't mean much without someone to share it with. Oh, she had her share of dates, far too many first dates—and far too many of those wound up in her bed. It wasn't that it was hit-or-miss, but once those had banged what they considered a Playmate equivalent, they pulled on their pants and left with a boast for their buddies the next day, the lewder ones tucking her panties into their pockets as proof of conquest. It didn't help that she kept finding herself dating the assholes; on the other hand, Regina wasn't going to waste her time with a man who didn't have the confidence to approach her in the first place.

That's why Regina found herself getting deeper and deeper into her "preference." The first several times were very exciting; then the thrill began to wane. Regina found herself raising the bar, making it more challenging for herself—which resulted in at least a couple of nail-biting episodes that she nevertheless was able to solve.

Then one day she came up with her best plan yet.

Regina's agreeing to a date with Blake was all part of the plan. Allison, one of her section managers and closest she had to a work confidante, didn't see it that way.

"Are you insane?" she'd demanded as she laid a folder on Regina's desk. "Did you really let the Prince of Smirkness ask you out?"

"This Saturday," Regina nodded.

"Girl, you need to take some of your vacation days. This place is wearing down your defenses."

Regina laughed. "Hardly. Sometimes it's better to face your fears. And maybe this will get him off my back." She flashed an enigmatic grin.

"As long as he doesn't get you onto yours," Allison frowned.

As she readied herself early that cool Saturday afternoon, Regina's own words echoed through her own mind: Sometimes it's better to face your fears. Her fear—and she knew too well it was a delicious one—was that of discovery. Blake would be here to pick her up at seven. Regina counted on her planning skills to have her done before then. It could be close, but that just made it all the more exciting.

That excitement had made the morning pass with agonizing slowness. More than once, as she puttered around the house, barely scanning the newspaper headlines, glancing distractedly at the television, she considered getting an earlier start, or even abandoning it altogether. She found herself lying on her bed, her hands inching toward her crotch, as her heart thumped and her mind roiled. Not today, it warned. Cancel the date, it urged. Do it, her loins decided.

Regina opened the big manila envelope and dropped in the keychain holding the duplicates, including her front-door key. She swallowed as she read what she'd written on the single sheet of paper; then she slid that into the envelope as well. She tried to lick the gummed flap but realized her mouth was dry. Taking the envelope, the thick marking pen, and the roll of masking tape with her to the kitchen, she dipped her tongue into a glass of water, and then sealed the envelope. She wrote on the front of the envelope in big letters:

BLAKE, PLEASE READ THIS! REGINA

She walked to her front door and opened it. This was the nice thing about being in the townhouse on the end of the row. Her front door, already set back from the front of the house by the garage, was fairly secluded from the rest of the lane. On the other side was the high wall that separated her housing complex from the next. She used the masking tape to fix the envelope securely to the front of the door. Shutting the door, she locked it—and had to pause for a moment as a ripple of excitement shuddered through her. Then she flipped on the porch light. Taking a deep breath, Regina walked up the stairs to her bedroom to get ready.

Her hands shook a little in the shower, shook a little more afterward, primping in the mirror. She got a little jolt each time she looked into her own big blue eyes, found herself glancing away quickly until she did her final inspection. She frowned as she turned her head this way and that before deciding she would pass muster. She reached into the cupboard under the sink and retrieved the tube of lubricant and walked to the bed.

She had already laid out her outfit and all her accessories, including the heavy cardboard box, before she showered. Regina shrugged off her robe, not noticing the cool air against her nakedness. She picked up the butt-plug and regarded it critically. Regina had lain awake for a long while last night, going over every decision she would make today, her impulses for maximum titillation battling her common sense. The butt-plug was one of those impulses. It would become uncomfortable after a couple of hours, but it was that kind of discomfort that made it all the more intense.

Fingers trembling, Regina squeezed lubricant onto the butt-plug, then onto her fingers. Spreading her legs, she reached behind her, gasping a little as the cold lubricant touched her warm anus. She massaged the lubricant around and into her tight orifice, willing herself to relax, before she placed the tip of the plug against it and began pushing it in. Regina grunted as she worked the four-inch plug, which thickened towards the base, into her rectum. She cried out softly when the thickest part of the plug spread her anus wide, but then came the relief as the plug slid home and the base sealed itself against her.

Regina wiped her hands on a small towel. She picked up the black leather chastity belt. It had a simple design, a wide waist belt and a crotch belt that flared at the pussy and tapered as it went between the legs, but Regina could vouch for its effectiveness. She wrapped the waist strap around her and locked it snugly in front with one of the padlocks on the bed. But before she locked the crotch belt into place, she picked up the vibrating bullet. This was one of Regina's favorites. The white oval vibrator was about an inch and a half long, with a wire that ran to a small receiving unit. The receiving unit received audio signals from a sending unit that picked up sounds from anywhere. The receiving unit translated those signals into vibrations of various patterns, strengths, and durations transmitted by the bullet. Regina nestled the bullet between her pussy lips, just below her clitoris, before she pulled the crotch strap tight and locked it in place with another padlock. She felt both the bullet and the butt-plug push into her as the belt tightened. She clipped the receiving unit onto the inside of the waist belt.

She pressed her fingertips into her lower belly. Already the excitement was building to a head, and she still had so much to go. She scooped up the corset. It was black leather, open at the waist, with half-cups for her breasts, and four garters. Practice had made Regina proficient at lacing it up—which was no small feat, considering the laces were behind her back. Ten minutes of patient tugging and tightening produced, even in the cool of the room, a thin sheen of sweat. Not to mention an almost literally breathtaking hourglass figure when Regina glimpsed herself in the mirror. Her waist was nipped in more than its usual twenty-five inches, while the corset accentuated the lush curve of her thirty-seven inch hips, and the half-cups formed a shelf that made her C-cup breasts all the more enticing. Regina blushed at how hard her nipples had become already.

Next came the black stockings. They were real silk, with seams running up the back. Regina's breath caught in her throat as she sat on the bed to put them on. That corset was tight! Not to mention the little reminder that she had a plug up her ass when she sat. Regina loved how the black silk contrasted with her creamy curves as she slipped the stockings up her long legs. She stood to fasten the garters to the tops of the stockings. Too bad so much of these beautiful stockings would be hidden from view, she thought. But the next items of her wardrobe were more important than the aesthetics of her hose.

Regina stepped to the closet to fetch them. They were her thigh-high boots, and they were beauties: black patent leather, four-inch stiletto heels, zipper up the inseams. Besides being outrageously sexy, they served a two-fold purpose. The first, with respect to maximum titillation, was to make it as difficult as possible to maneuver. The second, with respect to optimum practicality, was to prevent any noticeable marking. She'd planned to wear boots and a leather miniskirt on her date with Blake tonight—just to tease him as mercilessly as she could—but because she knew his eyes would be glued to her legs, among other parts of her anatomy, she didn't want to invite any embarrassing questions. She sat on the bed, catching her breath once more, slipped on the first boot, and zipped it up. Then she zipped up the second one, smoothing both of them with her hands. She stood up—and immediately fought for balance, teetering atop the high, thin spikes. Steadying herself, she bent down for the collar.

It was wide, black, made of thick leather, with a steel ring in the front and a steel hasp in the back. Regina wrapped the collar around her neck, then slipped the hasp through one of the slits at the other end of the collar. She used another padlock to secure the collar. Regina wobbled on her heels again, but this time it was from the vertigo brought about from her giddy apprehension.

Regina strutted to the full-length mirror of the closet door. The image staring back at her made her gasp. She was stunning. In her boot heels, she knew she stood at almost six feet. And they made her legs look amazing. She looked like a comic-book superhero—make that superheroine—in those black leather thigh-highs, corset, and collar. Well, a kinky superheroine, one with her bare, beautiful boobs thrust forward, her waist narrowed and her hips flared, and a leather chastity belt girding her loins. She had done a terrific job on her make-up, although that was almost a case of gilding the lily. She was a natural beauty without any help, but her eye make-up did make her big, almond-shaped blue eyes seem sharper, the spot of blush made her cheekbones seem higher and more defined, and the shiny red lip gloss only highlighted the cupid's bow of her full lips. She pursed those lips now, disappointed that no one, not even her, would be able to see those luscious lips very soon. With a sigh, she walked back to the bed, gathered up her remaining accoutrements, placed them atop the heavy cardboard box, and, with a grunt, picked up the box.

On her way downstairs, she stopped. The second-floor hallway opened onto the floor below, with a railing that overlooked the living room. Regina stopped at the spot above where the living room met the dining room. She pulled out the longest length of thin chain from the box. It was about ten feet long. She wrapped one end around the base of one of the rails and secured it with a padlock. Then she fed the chain over the side, slowly, until it hit the carpet and heaped itself in a small coil. Picking up the box once more, she walked down the stairs, taking care how she stepped in her stiletto heels, and trying not to dwell on the sensations her butt-plug produced as it worked its way around her rectum as she stepped down.

Regina set the box down on the dining room table. She pulled out a chair from the table and set it near the chain, a few feet from the table. She strutted into the kitchen, momentarily startled at how loud her heels sounded on the tile floor. Opening the freezer, she removed the small plastic cup and inspected it. The water had frozen solid overnight, trapping the key in the middle of the cube. With her eye for detail, Regina had suspended the key from a piece of string that she'd attached to a thin wooden skewer hung across the mouth of the cup. This way, the key wouldn't freeze at the bottom. Wrapped around the skewer was the twist tie to a garbage bag; it had been frozen in place, so now it protruded from the top of the frozen cube. Regina pulled the skewer away from the ice cube. She picked up the cup, took a shallow, rectangular plastic dish from the cupboard and returned to the dining room.

Regina pulled the frozen cube from the plastic cup. She used the twist tie to hang the cube from one of the arms of the chandelier suspended above the middle of the dining table. Then she slid the plastic dish under the cube. A few moments later, she heard the first splat of water drops hitting the dish. She knew from her previous experiments that it would take between three to four hours for the ice to melt sufficiently for the key to drop into the dish. She looked at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. It was almost two now. She'd be cutting it close, but she figured she'd be done with time to spare before Blake arrived. If she hurried now.

From the box, she fished out the sending unit for her vibrating bullet and walked over to the wooden entertainment center near the living room window. She set the sending unit down on the shelf of the entertainment center. She opened the window a few inches but kept the curtains drawn. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, she turned on the television and then the VCR. She had already put her special tape in. It was a six-hour compilation of her favorite videos. Walking back to the dining room table, she switched on the receiving unit for her bullet. And immediately felt her knees weaken as the bullet responded to the loud burst of music from the first video with a blast of vibrations. She hurried over to the remote to adjust the volume. She thought about closing the window all the way, but she wanted the sending unit to pick up the ambient noises from outside in addition to those from the TV. There was also the added thrill of having someone outside able to listen to what was going on inside. As always, the possibility of discovery only made it sweeter.

Next, she pulled out the key ring that held the keys to all her padlocks. With a brave grin and a big flutter in her tummy, she strutted across the living room to the bathroom near the front door. She put the key ring in the medicine cabinet above the sink, then she shut the bathroom door on her way out. Must keep up the challenge. On her way back to the dining room table, she had to stop for a moment when the vibrating bullet increased its buzzing in response to a woman moaning loudly from the TV. Her hands flew instinctively to her crotch; she kneaded herself through the leather of her chastity belt. Won't be able to do that very soon, she mused. It's a good thing—I think—that I put fresh batteries into the unit.

Back at the dining room table, Regina pulled out the handcuffs and the first of the chains. The chain she wrapped around her waist, then between her legs, pulling the end up to the waist chain behind her. Before she snapped the padlock into place, she fitted the connecting chain of the handcuffs between the hasp of the lock. Then, feeling with her fingers, she threaded the open end of the hasp through the links of the chain and snapped it shut. She tugged on the chain in various places. It was snug around her waist, snug between her crotch—enough to press even harder against her butt-plug and vibrating bullet. Most importantly, her handcuffs dangled from the padlock.

"Unnngh!"

The moaning woman from the video on TV moaned even louder. Regina glanced over to see her, a naked redhead bound to a wooden cross while being whipped by a booted brunette. Regina moaned in response to the increased buzzing between her legs.

One time, Regina wore her vibrating bullet to the supermarket, the sending unit discreetly tucked into her purse. It worked very well. Too well. Until then, she had never realized how noisy a supermarket could be. Regina's legs were trembling before she had completed her fairly short list, so much so that a stock boy asked if she was feeling well. Flushed, she managed to answer him lightly and finish her shopping, hoping she could make it to the car, much less the house, without climaxing in public.

Regina swallowed and took a deep breath. She reached into the box and retrieved the clip for her collar. It was a four-inch-long steel bar with a hook at either end; a spring-loaded steel pin snapped across the open end of each hook. She snapped one of the hooks onto the last link of the chain she had attached to the railing above her. The other hook she snapped onto the hasp of the collar at the back of her neck. Now she was tethered to the second-floor railing. She walked around the dining room and living room, testing the range afforded her by the chain. As she'd planned, she could walk into the dining room up to the chandelier, and she could walk into the living room up to the couch. The musical tinkling of the chain accompanied each step. Beyond that, she was prohibited. Regina's heart began to beat harder, faster. She closed her eyes as she took another deep breath, then pulled out another length of chain.

She pulled out another chair and sat down in it for this one. Putting her feet together, she wrapped the chain around her ankles. She had several loops done before she pulled the ends of the chain between her feet to cinch the chain as if it were rope. Another padlock secured the ends of the chain. Regina wiggled her feet. The chains were tight; although she knew they would loosen a bit over time, with the cinching, they would stay around her feet until she could unlock them. Standing up, she pulled another long length of chain from the box. This one she wrapped around her thighs, just above her knees, in the same fashion. However, she ran one end of the chain up to the chain around her waist and back down to the cinching at her knees. She had learned, to her disappointment, during previous sessions that ropes or chains around her knees often slipped to her ankles. This would keep the chains around her knees even when the chains loosened later on. Satisfied, she locked the ends together with her last padlock. Good thing the four padlocks were keyed the same. Too bad the universal key was sitting in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom across the living room. Well, there was the other key in the manila envelope taped to the front door, but she would retrieve that envelope before Blake arrived.

Regina fished around in the box until she found what she was looking for. They were the nipple clamps, the big clover kind attached to each other with a thin chain. Another thing she had lain awake last night thinking about were the clamps. They would be on for a long time. Already she was being stimulated by the butt-plug and the vibrating bullet. Her jaw tightened. What the hell. She threaded the chain through the steel ring in the front of her collar. Then she attached the first clamp. She didn't have to worry about a target—through fear, excitement, or the cool air in the room, her nipples were already very hard. She squeezed the clamp open, surrounded the base of her rosy nipple with the steel tips of the clover, and relaxed her fingers. The initial pinch of the clamp would be nothing to what she would feel in a few moments, so she hurried to apply the other one. She looked down—her lovely nipples were trapped in the clamps, exotic jewelry for her spectacular breasts.

Pulling another item from the box, Regina paused once more. The gag lay in her hand. It was a no-nonsense gag. A wide leather panel covered her mouth completely. On the inside was attached a two-inch red rubber ball to keep her mouth occupied. An array of straps held everything in place.

Regina knew well the dangers of gagging herself while she was all alone. She had run through the possibilities last night as well. Her heart quickened. With another deep breath, she popped the ball into her mouth, smoothed the panel over her mouth, and began to fasten the straps, over and around her head, even one that ran under her chin. When she finished securing the last buckle, Regina felt like an animal, muzzled and harnessed. The thought of it sent a fierce stab through her loins moments before the vibrating egg translated an increase in the onscreen action as a frenzied buzzing that nearly buckled Regina's knees.

"Nnnnuugggh!" she cried into the new intruder filling her mouth as she reached out for the back of the chair to steady herself. Her racing pulse amplified the throbbing in her nipples, pinched hard by the clamps and rising in intensity. Bail out, bail out, bail out, bail out, her mind screamed. It wasn't too late to back out. This was too much for her to handle already.

Breath whistling through her nostrils, Regina closed her eyes and tried to corral the stampede of impulses and images thundering through her thoughts. This was going to be intense—too intense. But that was the very thing that made it irresistible, wasn't it? Regina tried to swallow. With great deliberation, she located in the box the paper clip, partially unbent, she would need shortly; she placed it on the table.

Then she picked up the first of the two gloves she had yet to don. Like her boots, they were beauties. Long opera gloves made of black kidskin, they came up well past her elbows. She slipped the first one up her arm. It felt soft, and it warmed her skin even further, as did the second one. Regina flexed her fingers. The thick leather would make the rest of her work more challenging. She had practiced unlocking her handcuffs when they were behind her while wearing the gloves. It was difficult—she couldn't use her fingertip to locate the keyhole, and it was hard to get a sense of the key when she held it between gloved fingers—but she was able to do it after several minutes' effort.

Of course, that was without all the distractions and obstacles she had to contend with now. And it was without trying the last item from the box. That was the leather belt she now wrapped around her chest, below her boobs, and upper arms. With some effort, she managed to pull it tight and secure the buckle in front. Then came the arduous task of pulling at the belt until the buckle was moved around to the back; her face felt warm and moist by the time she'd finished. It would be harder to remove the belt with the buckle in back. Just one more obstacle.

Clop . . . clop . . . clop . . .

The drip of the melting ice cube sounded louder now that she was almost finished. Swallowing once more, Regina reached for the paper clip. Her fingers shook, making it even harder to get a sense of the thin steel clip. She closed her eyes and willed her mind to slow down, to think only about the next immediate action. She turned around to face the TV. A big-breasted blonde in white stockings and pumps was writhing in a very tight hogtie atop a bed.

Bringing her hands behind her, Regina fitted the first steel cuff around her wrist.

"Mmmmmppphf!"

Regina swayed as a blast from her vibrator caught her unawares. From the TV, an anguished cry from the blonde trumpeted the hopelessness of her position. I hear you, sister. Regina grunted and tried to collect herself. She checked the cuff again and snapped it closed. It took a moment to realize that she had just put herself one step away from her own hopelessness. She bit down on the ball-gag as she felt around with the tip of the paper clip, hunting for the small hole in the side of the cuff that double-locked the cuff. Minutes seemed to pass. A drop of sweat escaped from her armpit and trickled down to the top of her corset. It tickled. Then she felt the tip slide into the hole. She pressed in and heard a small click. Gingerly, she squeezed the cuff, then she squeezed it harder, confident she had double-locked the cuff. She had. Carefully, she transferred the paper clip to her now-shackled hand.

Regina swayed again, this time dizzy from the knowledge that she was one step from losing her freedom. Bail out, bail out, bail out, bail out, ran the runaway train in her mind. Even with only one hand free, she could still get out of her predicament. She blinked. That's not why she was standing here.

With a quick movement more reflex than conscious decision, Regina snapped the remaining cuff around her free wrist. She ran the tip of the paper clip along the edge of the cuff, her concentration intense as she tried to find that little hole, pausing only to ride out, eyes closed, another volley of buzzing between her legs. Resuming her hunt, she felt the tip catch, and she pushed it in. She checked that the cuff had actually double-locked, and it had. She chucked the paper clip away from her.

That was when it hit her. The panic.

This time, it was worse than anything she'd felt before. OhmygodwhathaveIdone raced as one chattering word through her head. I'm screwed I'm screwed I'm screwed chased it. Her corset seemed to crush her ribs with every gulp of air. The rubber ball seemed to swell in her mouth as her throat constricted; she prayed she wouldn't faint as she swayed on her heels. She realized that the increased pressure in her pussy and rectum came from the urgent pulling of her wrists against the handcuffs, which in turn yanked the chain girding her loins. That almost overshadowed the spirited buzzing between her pussy lips—on the TV, a slight brunette, suspended by her heels, was yelping as she was being paddled enthusiastically by a sneering, buxom African-American woman in leather.

"Unnnngggghh!"

It took some time to realize that it was she, not the poor paddled girl from the video, who was moaning. Regina blinked. Her nipples throbbed, her ass felt packed from the butt-plug, and her pussy throbbed as much as her nipples.

clop . . . clop . . . clop . . .

Regina turned her head to look behind her. She felt the squeeze on nipples as the connecting chain of her nipple clamps went taut. That was one of the fringe benefits of the clover clamps—when you pulled on the chain, the clamps squeezed tighter. The ice cube seemed as big as ever, even though she could hear that it was indeed melting by the drip of water into the plastic dish. Until the ice melted, freeing the key to her handcuffs, she couldn't unlock her hands. Until she released her hands, she couldn't unfasten the clip that tethered her locked collar to the chain attached to the railing above her. Until she could release the tether, she couldn't move any farther than the chain allowed. And that wasn't far enough to find anything to rescue herself with. Simply put, she was trapped, a prisoner of her own devices.

Her heart still pounded, but not like the trip hammer that threatened to make her pass out just a few minutes ago. Her bosom slowed its heaving. She grew still as she stood. The sheen of panic sweat began to cool, and as it cooled, little nuisance itches broke out in a couple of places. Regina sighed. This was what she wanted.

She hopped the remaining distance to the chair. She squealed when her first big hop landed her balancing precariously on her four-inch heels. She hopped forward quickly to keep from falling, but this hop was shorter and she was able to control her landing more effectively. Nevertheless, she was panting by the time she plopped onto the chair—which made her squeal again when the butt-plug reminded her of its presence with a blast of pressure up her colon; the black leather corset squeezed her with each breath.

Gradually, her concentration focused on the TV. In the video, the tables had turned on the African-American girl. Still in her dominatrix garb, she had been strapped to a pole, and the skinny brunette's delight in whipping her was obvious. The brunette—or the film director—must have wanted to hear the black girl beg because she wasn't gagged. Her pleas sounded authentic—and loud. Regina groaned as the vibrating bullet agitated in time to the cries for mercy. Regina's hips bucked back and forth in time to the vibrations; that had the added bonus of working the butt-plug. Her head fell back as her eyes closed. God, she wanted to explode already. How could she stand this constant teasing for the hours ahead?

Her head lolled forward, and she opened her eyes. She stared dully at the TV, only half-noticing the spirited flogging the dusky dom was getting. She was building a fantasy in her own mind. In it, she too was a cruel dominatrix who had been overpowered by her slave, whom she had been tormenting mercilessly. Now it was her turn. The slave-turned-captor had chained her up and left her for hours with only the thought of what would happen to her to keep her company.

Regina squirmed again as a wickedly delicious thought bloomed in her mind. That slave-turned-captor was . . . Blake. She imagined that, on their date tonight, she had teased him to the point of begging. Regina had brought him home, made him strip naked, chained him up, and began to do . . . nasty things to him. Regina moaned at the thought of binding his cock and balls with a thin leather cord, then whipping his package with a riding crop while he screamed into a ball-gag. She warned him to be quiet, and when he wasn't, she applied the nipple clamps, tightening them until his nipples turned white. Then she hung a padlock from the connecting chain before she resumed her flogging of his genitals.

"Nnnngggh!"

The vibrator's frenzied buzzing, the result of the whipping reaching a crescendo—and the revving of her neighbor's truck engine—only prodded Regina's rhythmic thrusting of her hips to greater heights. The thought of hurting that asshole filled her with glee. Serves him right for pestering her all this time!

Regina squeezed her hands and bit down on the gag as she envisioned the turnabout. Somehow, Blake had managed to get hold of the handcuff key—Regina imagined herself carelessly leaving the key chain within his reach as she frigged herself in front of him. As she closed her eyes, he reached out for the key, unlocked his cuffs, and as she opened her eyes, he pounced on her like white on rice.

Pulling on her handcuffs for real, to work the chain between her legs, Regina moaned at the idea of Blake dominating her. He was such a bastard! And he was furious at her for the cruel treatment she so obviously enjoyed inflicting on him! Regina's feverish imagination galloped towards depravity. The thought of being helpless, of being used and abused by a man she detested, a man she would refuse to open her legs to even under duress, fanned a fire in her pussy that made her whimper and gasp. She tossed her head from side to side as she yanked rhythmically, savagely at her handcuffs, pulling her crotch chain hard against her chastity belt, working her pussy and the butt-plug.

"Mmmmmmpphf!"

The TV obliged with a burst of sounds from the video that translated into fresh vibrations against her clitoris. The vibrating bullet throttled back as the action on the screen abated.

"Unnnnnngh! Phfffuhhhhk!"

Regina growled, her hands clenching, her hips twitching from side to side as her orgasm danced gaily out of reach. Panting, she hung her head, frustration and elation swirling through her. This was what she wanted—this delicious helplessness and loss of control. The vibrating bullet was particularly devilish—idling softly until it revved up in response to a noise increase, keeping her on an almost unbearable threshold of anticipation, never knowing when the buzzing would seize hold of her, never knowing for how long. As she cooled slightly, she wondered if the capricious device would actually become unbearable—if the sensations would finally become too uncomfortable, making her want to remove it. A sharp pang laced through her at the thought that she couldn't do a damned thing about that until she could get free.

She turned her head to look at the ice cube suspended from the chandelier. Frowning, squinting, she couldn't notice any change in its size, although the steady clop-clop of the drops into the ever-widening pool in the plastic dish reassured her that it was indeed melting. She glanced at the clock. It was three-ten.

"Umm," she sighed, her lips adjusting, yet again, to the presence of the big ball stuffed into her mouth. She felt a little more saliva trickling into her mouth. She frowned again. Her mouth had been very dry as she chained herself up. Not just from apprehension, but she hadn't had anything to drink since before she went to bed last night. And she made sure she made herself pee as much as she could this morning.

Regina's eyes closed, cheeks flushing as she recalled how she peed on the carpet in her bedroom last month. She had been handcuffed, writhing in a hogtie, waiting for the key to drop into the pan from the melting ice cube, when her bladder, which had been sending vague signals for the past hour, grew urgent. Regina tried to wriggle out of the room and down the hall to her safety keys, but the pressure on her abdomen was too great. Whimpering, she felt herself peeing, then smelled the sharp tang of urine as her panties grew sopping and her pee spread onto the carpet. Even after the thorough and repeated cleanings she gave the stain, she could—or thought she could—still catch a whiff of urine every now and then. That's why she was determined to stay as dehydrated as she could today. That included not eating since lunch yesterday. At the mere thought of food, her stomach emitted a prolonged rumble, eager for nourishment. Faintness rippled through her as she acknowledged her hunger. God, she thought, I hope I get free long enough before Blake gets here so I can get a bite. I can't wait for dinner—and I'll probably be so tense that I won't be able to eat much, anyway.

And she didn't have her safety keys today.

Regina bit down on the ball once more, trying to relieve the dull ache that had begun in her jaws. As she simmered down from her near-orgasm, she became aware of the various aches and discomforts she had brought onto herself. The biggest ones were the twin, relentless pinches on her nipples. She looked down—as best as the high collar would allow—at her chest. Her nipples, forced to remain hard by the squeeze of the clover clamps, were crimson. Regina tapped her gloved fingertips together behind her back. She would have to endure the pinching for—how long? Two more hours? Three? At least it settled into a steady pain—although those can be the ones that begin to drive you nuts with their reliability.

Almost to take her mind off her nipples, she focused on the sensations from the thick plug she'd shoved up her ass. It didn't hurt, but its prolonged presence in her rectum produced the desire to expel it. Her fingers reached down to feel her bottom. Once she pushed aside the chain links running between her cheeks, she could feel the base of the plug bulging beneath the strap of her chastity belt. The strap was too tight to allow her access to the plug. Or at least it seemed that way; she had a tough time gauging how things felt through the thick leather of gloves. Uneasiness stabbed her as she contemplated having to hold the handcuff key—so small, so easily dropped—and hunt for the keyhole, all while wearing the gloves. She reassured herself with the knowledge that she'd released herself from the handcuffs, behind her back, while wearing the gloves, only just last night. Of course, it took her several minutes to do it. And she didn't have any distractions, either. Such as the heavy clamps on her nipples, the gag in her mouth, the plug in her ass, or the fiendish vibrating bullet nestled against her clitoris—the one whose buzzing swelled now.

"Ahhhhhhggggh!"

Regina shot a look at the TV. The next video had come on. She liked this one a lot. It had a fanciful but delightful story—two roommates vie for a guy by ambushing each other and tying the other one up so they can go out with him, and he eventually ties the both of them together. It also had a recording volume that was higher than the first one, a condition that remained when she'd dubbed it onto the tape she was viewing now. That meant that every time one of the girls said something, the spike in the vibration was higher than before. Soon, one of the girls, the kewpie-faced blonde in the red stockings and heels, was shrieking as the sultry brunette in the black bustier and thong jumped her and began tying her hands behind her back. Regina gasped, swaying on her heels, as the vibrating bullet made her feel every one of those shrieks in an intimate manner.

Even as the onscreen noise level subsided somewhat with the advent of the blonde kewpie getting gagged by the brunette, Regina nevertheless became acutely conscious of how loud her TV was. Or how loud it seemed to be, anyway. This might not have been so bad were the living room window not open. Regina shuddered at the thought of the sound carrying out to the street. She cringed every time the sound level rose, although the moan she gave was as much from the vibrations between her legs as from the embarrassment caused by the loudness of the TV.

It wasn't too long, though, before Regina's ears grew accustomed to the volume level. As they did, her thoughts drifted over the action on the video and towards her own little fantasy from before. Let's see . . . where was I? she mused. She picked up from Blake pouncing on her, still in her dominatrix garb, and cuffing her hands behind her. She imagined all the filthy things he'd say to her. You're going to pay for the misery you put me through, bitch, he'd hiss. Whipping is too good for you, but I'm still going to flog you until you cry yourself dry. She closed her eyes, envisioning him, eyes blazing, binding her in chains, her freedom disappearing with each click of the padlock. Regina could picture herself screaming, pleading with Blake, her eyes huge with the horror of this pig getting the upper hand to have his way with her, until he picked up the gag, seized her hair, and stuffed the big ball between her lips. It was awful to think of Blake having so much control of her, looking to settle the score after she had teased him, taunted him, tortured him. Awful, yes—but, Jesus, did it get her hot! As the action on the screen heated up—now the blonde got the jump on the brunette—and set her vibrator to buzzing in response, Regina moaned at the thought of his hands seizing her breasts, squeezing them until her flesh bulged between his fingers and—

Dunk! Dunk! Dunk!

"Eeeeeegh!" Regina squealed as the knocking exploded in her ears. Her eyes flew open. Then her heart threatened to burst from her chest. Oh, my God—someone was at the door! She stared a hole into the door, ears straining to get a hint of who it might be. She shot a glance at the clock. Three-ten. It couldn't be Blake. God, please, whoever it was, don't let them open the envelope—

Dunk! Dunk! Ding-dong!

This time, they rang the doorbell after they knocked.

"No!" a woman's voice shrieked. "Courtney! Please don't gag me—ugggghh!"

Mortified, Regina glared at the TV. It was so loud! Whoever it was must have heard that! She turned back to the door.

Ding-dong!

"Regina?" called out another female voice, this one from behind the door. "Are you home?"

Regina gasped. It was Mrs. Klosky, her neighbor across the street. The local busybody. Of course.

"I don't think she's home," Mrs. Klosky said.

"I can hear her TV playing," offered a male voice Regina couldn't quite place.

"That ought to hold you, you little slut!" snarled a third female voice. This one came from the TV. Regina groaned, knowing the two outside her door heard that.

"I wonder who this Blake is," wondered Mrs. Klosky.

Please don't open the envelope, Regina prayed.

"I wonder what she's watching." Regina could hear the leer in the male voice behind the door. "Sounds pretty racy."

"It sounds indecent, if you ask me." Regina had no problem picking out the disdain in Mrs. Klosky's voice. "Whatever it is, I don't think she's coming to the door. Come on."

Regina heard their footsteps pass the window, saw their shadows darken the curtains. It was only once they'd passed that she realized she had been pulling at her handcuffs again. As the noises from outside and from the TV subsided, she felt the buzzing of the vibrating bullet abate to a soft purr. Once she became aware of the aching in her jaw, she relaxed them. She must have been chewing on the rubber ball the whole time her two visitors were at the door. She couldn't help the wry thought that passed through her mind—now I know what they mean by gnawing anxiety.

Three-ten.

That was her next thought. There was something wrong with that. She frowned at the clock on the mantle. Then closed her eyes. Then looked again.

Three-ten.

That can't be right. It was three-ten when she looked just a few minutes ago. And it was three-ten even before the second video began. She glanced at the TV. Sure enough, it was well into the second video. The battery in the clock had died. Oh, great. What timing. She turned her head to look at the ice cube. The clamps tightened and pulled on her nipples. The puddle in the dish had grown larger, but she couldn't discern any change in the size of the cube. Don't worry, she reassured herself, her fingertips tapping together again. You've done this before. You know the cube has plenty of time to melt. Nothing to panic about.

Regina failed to convince herself. She stood up and began hopping to the dining room table. Her breasts bounced with each hop. The clamps bit her nipples harder as the chain was yanked by her bouncing boobs.

"Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" she grunted with each hop, in time to the rattle of her various chains.

"Aack!" she uttered a choked-off cry as her tether stopped her hopping. She swayed on her heels; her hands flapped as she fought to keep her balance.

Panting, she leaned forward as far as she dared and stared at the ice cube suspended from the chandelier a foot from her nose. It was rounded at the corners now, and smaller, she told herself after glancing at the pool of water in the plastic dish, but the key remained encased in the center of the cube. Regina sighed. It was melting; it would continue to melt and the key would drop. Sometime. Eventually. Oh, God, I hope it does before—

"Eeeee! Oww! Oww! Oww!"

Regina started at the flare of the vibrating egg in response to the loud cries from the TV. She flipped her head around, almost losing her balance again, to see the screen. This was where the blonde spanked the brunette. It was a drawn-out scene made even more delicious because the brunette was a whiner whose sharp, high-pitched yelps punctuated the loud slaps the blonde laid across the brunette's squirming bottom. Groaning, Regina straightened up but didn't dare move. She swallowed as she watched the brunette, her hands bound behind her, a ball-gag in her mouth that did little to muffle her yelping, her naked ass in the air as she knelt on a bed and endured the taunts and smacks from the pissed-off blonde. Regina's hips wiggled in time to the brunette's; the vibrating egg fueled Regina's own mounting excitement, which melted away the anxiety that had gripped her only moments ago.

Soon, Regina closed her eyes and drifted back to her own fantasy, the one where Blake had taken the upper hand and now dominated her. The mere thought of it sent a fierce jolt through her. Where was she? Oh, yes. He told her he was going to flog her. He suspended her chained wrists above her head—to the railing above her head right now—and picked up his belt. Regina could even envision which belt it was. It was his maroon snakeskin one, thin and shiny, with the buckle in the shape of the initials of his name, Blake Sutton. She laughed to herself even now, wondering if the bastard was even aware of what those initials looked like. He probably was. That was why he chose the belt.

In her mind, he wrapped the buckle end around his fist and raised his arm. She tried to back away from him, but the chain held her in place. She screamed into her gag as the first fiery lash wrapped around her curves with a searing sting. Blake just laughed, told her there are plenty more where that one came from, bitch, and reared back again. Regina jerked as she imagined the next blow striking her—or was that a blast from the vibrating egg?—and her writhing from its sting. She squeezed her eyes ever more tightly closed, her nostrils flaring for more breath, as the tableau of her whipping built to her begging for mercy and Blake giving none. Then he cast the belt aside and strode up to her. Regina was helpless to stop him as he turned her around, kicked her feet apart, seized her by the hair and hissed, you know what it's like for me to whip your ass—now you're going to know what it's like for me to fuck your ass. She screamed, then whimpered, and then screamed again as he spread her ass cheeks wide, jammed the tip of his throbbing cock against her anus, and split her open with one savage thrust. Regina clenched her fists, clenched her teeth against the ball in her mouth, and yanked on her handcuffs with hard, savage jerks to work that butt-plug as she envisioned how Blake reamed her ass again and again until it felt as if she were falling, falling—

"Huhhhnngh!"

Regina snapped her eyes open. A shock lanced her as she felt herself toppling forward.

"Unnnggh!"

Grunting, she threw her upper body backwards to counteract the forward motion.

"Eeeeegh!" she shrieked as she felt her feet tip up on her spiked heels.

She hopped back and forth several times, twisting her entire body one way and the other, fighting to keep her balance, the jerk of the chain at the neck reminding her that she didn't have much room to maneuver. She found her hands had clutched the edge of the table as she became turned askew. High-pitched whimpers reached her ears as she tried to blink away the hot sweat that had trickled into her eyes from her brow. Despite her rapid panting, she felt as if she were suffocating—the corset didn't allow her the air she craved. Her head swam, and the whiteness rushing up to her combined with the certainty that her body was about to collapse like a wet noodle drove her series of quick but deliberate hops to the chair. As she lowered herself onto the seat, Regina collapsed against the back of the chair, that empty, queasy, gnawing in her stomach and the sudden chill blanketing her skin warning her how close she had come to fainting on her feet. She swallowed, or tried to, not quite able to not think about what would have happened had she passed out. Her limbs felt weak, watery, and only by squeezing her eyes shut and exaggerating her breathing could she keep the terror in her tummy from rising to her throat.

It took some time before the renewed vibrations from the egg got her attention. Regina opened her eyes. On screen, the boyfriend of one of the girls—Regina found herself absurdly distracted by trying to recall if it was the blonde or the brunette—had walked into their bondage play and now had both girls bound together, back to back. Naturally, both girls were struggling and making a lot of noise behind their gags, which translated quite well into the surge of the vibrations from the egg. Tingling heat began to course through Regina's veins. She liked this part; she sat up in the chair, her hips starting to squirm.

Even as Regina worked her hips, gasping a little at the pressure of the butt-plug, she only half-watched the action on the screen. She was congratulating herself for riding out her panicky moment. This was what it was all about, wasn't it? She was still all right, still trapped by her own devices, still waiting, waiting for her release. A sharp pain flared on her right nipple, a stark reminder that she had given herself a constant discomfort with the clamps. She glanced down as best as the collar would allow. Both of her big pink nipples looked flattened by the squeeze of the clover clamps; they were dark red with white beneath the ends of the clamps. She sighed, knowing that they would be sensitive and sore for a couple of days at least. She wondered which of her bras would cause the least discomfort during her date with Blake tonight; then the wicked thought barged in that maybe she shouldn't wear one at all.

Idly, she watched the roommate story fade away. With the clock stopped, she had only the running of the video to give her a rough estimate of the time. The first one had been a little over an hour; the second, maybe an hour and a quarter. The next one didn't have a story—it was a series of scenes with a popular bondage model trapped in some amazingly intricate ties and left to struggle and moan for the camera. Regina usually had her vibrator out for this one, her legs spread wide as she drooled over the devilish ties and the dirty blonde's inability to escape them. This time, she did have the vibrating egg, although the sound level was lower than the previous video, and even when the dirty blonde cried into her cleave gag, it produced only a moderate buzz against Regina's pussy.

That didn't matter. As she gazed at the screen, Regina felt her eyelids droop. She knew she was resigned to her reality. She'd had her moments of anxiety, even near-panic—when she felt the second handcuff lock around her wrist, when Mrs. Klosky and her companion knocked on her door, when she convinced herself the ice cube wasn't melting, when she nearly lost her balance struggling while lost in the fantasy about Blake after checking the ice cube. She had survived them all. Now was when she would lose herself in her helplessness.

The ice would melt, eventually. The key would drop. She would get up to fish the handcuff key out of the plastic dish. She would work the key into the hole of her cuff and unlock it. It would then be easy to unlock the other cuff, undo the belt around her upper arms and chest, and unclip the leash from her collar. From there, it would be a hop, skip and a jump—Regina grinned beneath her panel gag—to the bathroom for the rest of the keys. Every event, which had to occur in sequence, would happen; she was sure of it. She'd thought of everything; she'd spent half the night making sure she had. In the meantime, she had nothing to do but wait. She glanced at the screen. The dirty blonde's sexy brown eyes were huge; she was whining into her ball-gag about the alligator-clip clamps that had been snapped onto her nipples. Regina closed her eyes and ground her ass into the seat as the vibrations from the egg increased with the dirty blonde's whines.

"Brrringg!"

Startled, Regina's eyes flew open. She writhed, confused by why her mouth was filled and her hands were trapped behind her, then she remembered and realized she must have been asleep.

"Brrringg!"

She looked at the clock. Three-ten. She frowned. That can't be right; it's getting dark outside—oh, right. The clock had stopped. It's dark outside? Her eyes darted to the television. Her tape was well into the fourth movie—

"Brrringg!"

Who was calling? Regina waited for the fourth ring and then for the machine to pick up.

"Hey, baby, it's Blake."

Regina flicked her eyes to the ceiling. She remembered their date tonight. She whipped her head around to check on the ice cube; she squinted and frowned. The room was darkening, and she'd forgotten to turn some lights on; the only light source was the flickering television. It didn't help her get a read on how much further the cube had to melt.

"It's after six and I'll bet you're in the shower right now getting yourself all sexed up for me—" Irritation flared through Regina; he was such a conceited asshole! "—Just wanted to confirm that I'll be there at seven if not before. Ciao, babe."

Even Blake's voice set her teeth on edge. It took a few moments for her to catch the first red flag. After six. How much after six is it? That empty, queasy feeling crept into her stomach again. Then came the other flag. I'll be there at seven if not before. Knowing him, it'll be before.

Regina realized she had been grinding her ass into the chair again. She registered the egg vibrating at an eager clip at the same time as she noticed the sound from the television. This video was a fem-dom job with full production including music, and it kept a steady stream of sound going at all times. The busty, leather-clad dom on screen was swinging a cat o' nine tails at an equally busty nude redhead with her hands cuffed above her head, and the way that cat kept splatting against the redhead's generous curves wrested some lusty cries from her. Regina rocked her hips, moaning as the butt-plug worked her rectum. She felt her wrists straining against the handcuffs as her hands clenched and unclenched and her feet kicked in their chains.

If it was after six, then she had been in this state of arousal for more than four hours now. Her nipples sang from the unremitting pinch of the clover clamps, but her heightened ardor dulled the pain—in fact, her discomfort from both the nipple clamps and the butt-plug only thrilled her more. God, how could I have stood all this stimulation for more than four hours without losing my mind—

She jerked in the chair, a big inrush of breath whistling through her nostrils. Blake would be here soon. She needed to get loose. Now. She turned her head. By now, it was fairly dark in the downstairs save for the light from the television. She could make out the ice cube, still suspended from the chandelier, as the steady plop plop plop of its dripping plunked into the dish. But she couldn't tell how much more it had yet to melt before she heard the splash of the key.

Taking a deep breath, Regina planted her feet and stood up. She wobbled on her high heels; then she made the slow and deliberate hop to the dining room table, her eyes trained on the ice cube. They widened, and a white flash stabbed her when she saw that although much of the cube had melted away, just the top of the key poked through the ice. Her hands jerked at the handcuffs as she let out a short whine. How much longer? Fifteen minutes? Twenty?

Regina's hands yanked at the cuffs; then her fingertips tapped together as she stared at the ice cube, hating it. You've had more than four hours to melt. Why haven't you? Her answer was a sour one: Perhaps if, last night, I hadn't hung the key from a little string so that it remained suspended in the cup of water and then froze right in the middle of the cube. She stamped her feet, which amounted to a sudden hop in place, followed by a wobble atop her heels and the clank of the various chains attached to her. Regina gasped, recalling the episode where she nearly fell over. She steadied herself with a series of little bobs and shimmies.

She stood staring at the ice cube, willing it to melt faster; with each drop of water into the plastic dish, she peered closer, wanting to see the key begin to emerge from the cube, which had shrunk, Regina realized, but which still kept the key imprisoned. And as long as the key was imprisoned, so was she.

A noisy scene on the television set the egg between her thighs buzzing again, but even though she moaned and twitched her hips, her arousal became overwhelmed by her urge to be done with her bondage. Her nipples smarted; the plug in her ass cried to be pulled from her anus. Her arms and legs ached, her arms from being pulled behind her for hours, her legs from flexing as she stood and hopped in the four-inch stiletto heels of the boots. But the biggest compulsion was to pull the ball from her mouth. Her jaws ached from being forced apart this long; she was tired of swallowing drool that hadn't spilled out of her mouth and been plastered between her face and the panel of the gag; and the taste of rubber on her tongue was—she wondered if she'd taste it in her food tonight, provided her jaws worked well enough for her to chew; the growling in her stomach reminded her of how long it had been since she'd eaten.

As she pondered the effects of the gag, her eyes widened. Shit! The gag was going to leave marks on her face! Regina's cry mixed alarm with irritation. She had chosen the panel gag because didn't leave those tell-tale red lines from her mouth to her ears that the standard ball-gag strap did. Nevertheless, she'd worn this gag for hours; it was bound to leave some impression on her face, an impression that wasn't going to fade before Blake got here.

Well, that's it. The date's off. Blake was bound to ask her what was wrong with her face. Relief seeped through her. She'll say that she got sick suddenly. It was good that the answering machine had picked up his call; she could say that she had been asleep, or better yet, in the bathroom, when he'd called. She would call his cell phone, tell him that she had just got his message. Or if it was too late, she would just have to speak to him through a crack in the door, in her robe and a towel wrapped around her head. She rolled her eyes. He would insist on coming in to "nurse" her, to fix her something to eat or something like that. Maybe it would be better just to keep the house dark and not answer the door or, shortly after, the phone. She could put up with his irritation tomorrow. She just hoped she could retrieve the envelope taped to the door in time.

All of this, she realized, depended on her getting free in the next few minutes. She kept her gaze on the ice cube. A watched pot never boils, a watched pot never boils, ran the loop in her mind. A watched cube never melts, came the update. She straightened, slapped her fingers together, and looked around. The chain clipped to her collar made a faint tinkle. The egg flared between her legs. She turned her head, winced when the clamps tightened against her nipples once more as the chain was pulled by her turning head. A lean brunette in a strap harness was being hauled into the air by her heels as two doms chuckled and the music swelled to a melodramatic flourish. That scene came near the end of that particular video. How long has it been? What time—"

Splash

Regina jerked her head back. She blinked at the ice cube. It looked like a shard hanging in space now that it had disgorged the key. Her eyes fell to the plastic dish. Sweetness flooded her veins at the sight of the silver key, faintly visible in the flickering light, at the bottom of the plastic dish. Finally, thank God! With a high-pitched chirp, Regina hopped until her back was to the table, bent forward, and extended her hands, the dull clank signaling that she had pulled the chains taut with her stretch.

Frowning, she wiggled her fingers in air. She craned her head over her shoulder. The plastic dish, right in the middle of the table was inches out of reach from her fingers. Grunting, she hopped in place until she was facing the table again. She bent forward in a slow, careful motion with the intent of using her chin to pull the dish closer. Her face came within inches from the disk when the snub at her neck stopped her. With a start, she realized that this was as far as the chain leash clipped to her collar was going to allow her to go.

"Arrrrrrrgh!"

Regina straightened. Fed up, she bucked her hips at the edge of the table. She hit the table harder than she had wanted to; the table shook and the plastic dish slid further away.

"Nnnnnnngh!"

Her eyes bugged as the white flash hit her. Jesus, that was stupid! Must stay calm. Despite her admonition, her mind raced from one thought to another, desperate for a solution. She decided she had to hop onto the table. She turned around again. Then paused. She had to jump up and back onto the table top and land on her butt. With her legs chained together. With her hands chained behind her back. Without knocking the table over or knocking the plastic dish over the side. She wondered if the table could take her weight. This will never work. It will. It must.

Sharp breaths whistled through her nose. Regina flexed her legs once, twice, remained with her legs bent until they began to ache, then stood straight again. Her heart pounded; her corset seemed to squeeze her ribcage again. She took another deep breath, bent her legs, and jumped.

"Hhhuuuugh!"

Before she understood she was on the table top, she felt the edge sliding up the back of her thighs to her ass; then she felt her feet hit the floor.

"Ahhhhh! Hahhhh!"

She hopped and shimmied as if she were on hot coals, desperate to keep her balance. The chain leash yanked on her collar as another frantic moan seeped through her gag. Panting, she wobbled in place, her feet trembling as she held her ground. Her mouth had gone very dry, and she had to blink hot tears from her eyes to keep everything from being blurry. Almost afraid to do so, she turned to look at the table. The plastic dish was on the other side of the table now.

"Ummmmmmph!" came the high-pitched whine.

There was only one more chance to get onto the table. Regina felt the charge well from her feet on up. She positioned herself at the edge of the table, bent at the knees, and jumped up and back. She landed squarely on the table this time—

"Unnnnnnnnggh!"

Regina's thighs squeezed together as the butt-plug felt as if it were about to shoot up inside her. She swayed from side to side, riding out the welter of sensation between her legs. When she had calmed a little, she craned her head behind her. The plastic dish was still there. Using her hands, straining in the handcuffs, to take her weight, she scooted herself backward slowly across the surface of the table.

"Uhhhhhhhggh!"

The pressure from the butt-plug increased with each scoot. She had to lean forward when the chain leash tautened; she merely wrinkled her brow when the expression "at the end of her tether" darted across her mind. She had gone as far as the tether would allow; when she stretched her fingers as far as they could go, wiggling them in every direction, she could still not feel the dish anywhere.

"Ohhhhhhhhh!"

Regina sagged. She had to blink away the hot tears again, still the panic that made her throat tighten, even as her mind clattered along from thought to image to thought again. She stumbled on an idea. If she could tilt the table so the other edge lifted up, the dish would slide toward her. Heart pounding, she lifted her legs and pushed herself forward. She slid a little ways on the table top, grunting as the butt-plug worked her over again. No, that wasn't what she wanted to do. The table was too stable for her to simply tip it up at one side. Still, she tried again, moving closer until her butt was near the edge of the table.

There was one last chance. If she could launch herself forward while trying to keep her weight on the table, she might be able to tip the table. Extending her legs fully, she made a sudden jerk forward. Her butt slid to the edge of the table, but her momentum tipped the table onto the near two legs. As Regina braced her feet against the floor, her fingers splayed out, waiting for the dish to come crashing into her. She squealed as icy water splashed against her ass, but her fingers clutched the lip of the plastic dish. She kept her grip on the dish as she straightened her legs and the table rested on all four legs again, although the cardboard box that had held all her goodies had tumbled to the floor.

Her fingers patted the bottom of the dish. Oh, please don't let it have flown out of the dish. Her fingertip struck a lump. She held it down, then wiggled her finger. The lump scraped across the bottom of the dish.

"Hhhhaahhhh!"

Yes! Oh, thank you, God! It was the key! The tears she blinked away now were from sweet bright light that flooded her mind and body. She pressed her thumb against the key to grip it along with her first two fingers. It took her a couple of tries to pick it up; the gloves made it difficult to feel with her customary acuteness—as she knew they would, she reminded herself. She pushed the plastic dish away from her to give herself more room to work the key, jumping a little as the remnants of the ice cube dropped to the table behind her.

"Ummm. Ummm. Ummm."

Short grunts accompanied her efforts to locate the keyhole. Her jaws ached even more—she was biting hard on the ball strapped into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to visualize the flat surface of the cuff, visualize where the hole was, as she dragged the tip of the key across the surface, tapping every now and then to keep it perpendicular to the surface. Her brow began to heat; sweat trickled from her armpits down her sides. Her pussy flared again with the buzzing of the egg; heated moans from the television barely made it past her ears. Regina swallowed; small, rhythmic whimpers began to leak out of her gagged mouth.

She blinked again in the flickering gloom. Why wasn't she finding the keyhole? She tried to transfer the key to her other hand, whined when it dropped to the table, felt around for it and whimpered as she worked it into position.

"Unnnnnnggh!"

A harsh grunt sounded in her ears as she began the dragging and the tapping on the other cuff. She realized she had been swinging her chained legs back and forth, her feet twitching up and down.

"Ummmph! Ummmph! Ummmph!"

Her grunts became harder and more urgent as she continued to search. Oh, for God's sake, where the hell was it? The white flash flickered in her tummy, threatening to explode through her body. She paused as twin jolts flared through her nipples. God, I can't wait to get those clamps off! Her fingers shook as she resumed her hunt for the keyhole. It's got to be there, for Chrissake! I had this all planned—

Tak . . . tak . . . tak

Footsteps were coming to her door.

"Ohhhhh!"

Regina went rigid. Blake! She heard the rattle and then the tear of heavy paper; a muffled clink also made it through the door.

"Oh, yeah! Baby!"

Regina didn't even hear the rattle of keys, the metallic zip of one sliding into her lock. The white flash launched her off the table into a series of frantic hops across the floor. She had made it to the couch when something yanked her neck from behind.

"Ugggggghhh!"

Dazed, Regina blinked at the sight of the ceiling high above her. By the time she realized she was on her back on the carpet, she felt the rush of cool air and heard the front door close. Blake came into view.

"Aaaahoww!" he shouted, beaming down at her.

Blake was tall and lean in his polished black shoes, charcoal-gray suit and cream shirt, although he wore no tie and the shirt was unbuttoned; gold glinted at his throat. He had an angular face and his black hair, flecked with silver, was slicked back.

"You really are gift-wrapped, aren't you, gorgeous?"

Regina blinked, then closed her eyes. It was in his hand. The note. In the first line, she had written that he shouldn't freak out, that she had "gift-wrapped" herself for him. In the second line, she had written that he was to use the keys to let himself in the house because she was unable to let him in herself. He would see why when he came in.

"I was expecting maybe black stockings and a garter belt, but this—"

His smile broadened as she dropped to his knees. Regina gasped as his hand cupped her bare breast. She tried to wriggle away but his tightened his grip.

"You want to struggle and resist, that's fine with me." His smile remained but hardness filled his voice. "We can play that way." He glanced at the note. "I can see you're a bad girl, Regina, baby, and you definitely need to be punished for your wicked ways."

"Hnnnnnnn!" Regina couldn't stop the high whimper.

Blake just laughed. "Yeah, that's it. Make it believable." He ran his hands over her, keeping a running inventory going as he did. "Jesus, you really fixed yourself up, didn't you? Got the dominatrix thing happening with the corset and boots—love the boots, baby—wear 'em to the office some time?" he winked at her. "But you really—" he patted the panel of her gag, "—Damn! That's a serious muzzle. And you ain't fucking around with those chains, are you?" He tugged at the chain on her collar, then rolled her onto her side. "Handcuffs back here—and what's this?" He tugged at her chastity belt. "You locked up your pussy too?" He cackled as he slapped her ass. "Great idea! I'll have to keep it on you so them other guys can't get what I'm gonna get!"

Regina moaned.

He let her flop onto her back again. "And it's going to take a little sucking to get those nipples feeling better soon! Shit! You're hardcore, bitch! What a nasty freak!"

He turned his head, seeming to notice the television for the first time. He whistled. "And you got porn going while you were waiting for me!" His hand shot to her crotch. He dug his fingers between her thighs as Regina shrieked and tried to press her thighs together. "Oh, you're a dirty one! Just filthy!" His teeth were bared in a sneer. "I would've never known just how freaky you were if you didn't finally say yes to a date. Guess you couldn't wait to start playing nasty once you did." He tilted his head. "That's why you didn't answer the phone." He leered at her. "A little tied up, were you?" he chuckled.

Regina rolled her eyes in spite of herself. Then she unleashed a torrent of words. Blake! You've got to let me go! I've been like this for hours! This isn't what it looks—

But it all congealed into mush before it escaped her gag. He grinned at her. "That's it. Keep it up, baby. You're getting me hot with your—" His attention was drawn to the shiny object near him on the carpet. His reached over to pick it up. It was Regina's handcuff key. She had dropped it when she had been yanked to a stop by the chain from the railing above them.

Blake stood up and walked into the dining room, frowning at the table, now askew, the plastic dish resting atop it, the twist tie dangling from the arm of the chandelier, the cardboard box lying on its side, and the wet spot on the carpet. He returned to Regina, holding up the key.

"You tried to get out, didn't you?"

He knelt and rolled her onto her side. Regina sighed when he grabbed her handcuffed wrists and inspected them, but that turned to a whine when he let her roll onto her back again, and then a yelp when he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Didn't you?" he insisted.

Regina gaped at him, her beautiful blue eyes huge. She nodded.

His sharp laugh startled her. "Then I think you screwed yourself, gorgeous," he began, his shoulders still shaking. "Both keyholes for your handcuffs are facing up. You couldn't have gotten the key into them even if you had all day!" He started laughing again.

The white flash flickered in Regina's tummy, making her body buzz and her head swim again. Her eyes closed slowly as the long, thin moan wavered between them. That was the last thing she told herself as she drifted off to sleep last night. Meticulous. Eye for detail. Outstanding follow-up. These descriptions of her work ethic mocked her now. As did Blake.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Blake was rising to his feet. He slipped something into his pocket; Regina could only assume it was the handcuff key. He unbuckled his belt. She blinked. It was the maroon snakeskin one, naturally. She blinked again. He'd have to unshackle her legs and then the chastity belt if he wants to fuck me. Won't he get a surprise when he finds—

Regina's eyes widened. Blake had pulled the belt from his trouser loops. He wrapped the BS buckle end around his knuckles. Then he dug his foot under her back and flipped her onto her tummy. Regina yelped as her clamped nipples were pressed into the carpet by her weight on top of them.

"That's nothing, bitch," he rasped. "Get ready to really sing now."

It will have to be off-key, Regina thought. Just like her solo act today.