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To understand the Gai Shift, please read the previous story Gai-Shift prior to reading this one.
Chapter 1: The Angel's First Victim
Chief Officer Constance Drummand sat at her desk in the Central London Precinct House, reviewing the overnight arrest reports. It was the usual lot; half of them were arrests made by her officers for offences ranging from skirts being too high, too low, or simply unfashionable. One or two bad hairdo arrests. Vagrancy (which could be interpreted as lingering too long before a shop window) also ranked high. The other half of the arrests where citizen's arrests, where the perpetrator was simply left bound and gagged on the station's doorstep. Often, it would be up to the Judge-Mistresses to determine the offence.
Drummand leaned back, placing her booted feet upon her desk, musing at the process known as judgment. In the central office outside, the women listed in these files were now hanging from overhead racks, naked, strapped, and helpless. Those to be tried would be rolled down the overhead gantries to the halls of judgment, where stern Justice-Mistresses would rule on their guilt or innocent (often without knowledge of the offence, and even sometimes without an offence). Those found guilty (most if not all) had their sentence scribbled on a toe-tag and were rolled back to the holding office where Samantha, the routing officer, would send them to various rooms to serve out their sentences. These could range from a paddling, a tickling, or a fondling followed by enforced, secured isolation (with no hope of manipulating themselves to 'self-parole'), the latter for truly heinous crimes.
And some of them, through an arrangement nobody really understood, would be lowered into the Pit. Nobody knew what occurred there, but those who experienced it would not speak of it. They would simply smile and look off into space.
She idly studied her cup of coffee, mulling over the swirling brown liquid, her mind thousands of miles away. Specifically, the South American brew made her think of Alina, that beautifully leggy Andean girl who'd been so generous during her recent mission there. If Constance regretted one thing, it was that she'd not had time to spend with their host. In her mind, she could still see that beautifully noble face, those sensuous lips, those warm brown eyes. And the proposals, spoken in a lyrically indecent fashion. Captain Zana had told her what she'd missed, information which caused Constance no little regret.
Her thoughts were broken when Samantha burst into her office. She looked more harried than usual, her blonde ringlets wavering every which way. Constance arched an eyebrow, silently granting permission to speak.
"We just got a report via message tube. A woman was attacked overnight, bound and ravished and abandoned."
Constance rocked her coffee cup, watching the liquid, thinking of the small concavity where Alina's neck met her shoulder. "So what? That happens hundreds of times every night in London." I should be so lucky that it would happen to me, she silently added.
"The report indicates that the woman was attacked by an angel."
Constance stopped swirling her coffee. "An angel? With wings and a halo and all that? This is the true definition of a 'nut-case'. Why bring it to my attention?"
"The victim was Lady Petunia Goldwaith, the scientist you went to Ecuador with. I thought..."
But Constance had already slammed down her coffee cup and was grabbing her coat.
= < o > =
The maid, garbed in a short black skirt with a dainty lace apron, led Officer Drummand up the stairs of Willie Hall, the in-town residence of Lady Goldwaith.
"...when I found 'er trussed and gagged on 'er bed," the girl explained breathlessly with a faint French accent, "I thought my Ladyship might have been... entertaining ze previous evening. Sometimes we maids must untie 'er, or see a... packaged guest home following my Ladyship's gatherings. When I first found my mistress, I assumed theese must be the case. However, when I removed ze gag and heard what she had to say about ze angel and all, I knew eet was a crime scene. Eet was then I replaced ze gag, just as I'd found eet, and sent a message to you. I did right, no?"
Constance nodded. The maid indicated a large door. Without hesitation, the police officer entered, the maid fluttering uselessly in the doorway.
Lady Petunia Goldwaith, royal scientist and inventor of Orgasium, the extract that could power airships great distances, lay bound in disarray upon her grand bed. Her blond hair was tangled and confused, her naked skin throbbing pinkly around the numerous ropes that held her in a cruel face-down hogtie. She turned to look wearily at Constance, grunting into the thick gag that held her lower face so firmly. After long hours of total bondage, she could only manage a weak flutter of fingertips.
Constance walked around the crime scene, studying the shapely noblewoman from all angles. The ropes binding her were thick yet placed well, the knots drawn tightly and tied off with little in the way of dangling ends. She ran a finger along the bindings, gaining a moan of frustrated admission from Petunia, as well as an understanding of the tension of the bonds. Overall, it was a first-rate job of ropework. For a brief moment, Constance wished that the roles where reversed, that she was laying in weary captivity while Petunia paced about, her childish eyes flashing at the possibilities. Forcing this unprofessional thought from her mind, she began working at the knots.
Petunia groaned in heavenly bliss at the lanyard holding wrists to ankles was freed, allowing her spine to finally relax. She lay on her shapely tummy, humming into her gag in satisfaction as Constance's firm fingers drew each knot out. Eventually all the cords had fallen away. Her Ladyship rolled onto her back amid the coils of discarded rope, stretching her limbs like a cat, as Constance removed the gag. The maid stood close by, a tray with a glass of brandy at the ready. Petunia took a sip from the offered spirits.
"You know," she smiled at Constance, "I wouldn't have minded terribly if you'd, ah, 'played through'."
"Lady Goldwaith, this is a police matter. And I've heard that the assailant is, well, something fantastic."
"I'll say she was," Petunia purred, idling fingering a rope.
"An angel?" Constance prodded.
Petunia looked at the officer's flat expression. "Right. Last night I went to bed fairly late, having spent some time with my nose in scientific journals. The night was hot, so I was wearing a nightie, and the bedroom windows were wide open."
Constance looked past the foot of the bed to the window that afforded a sweeping view of the London skyline. Then she hooked the pink nightie from the floor, passing them to the scientist, who nodded in recognition but made no move to don it. Constance did her best to overlook her pink nakedness, still detailed with rope marks.
"Anyway, sometime in the dead of night, I awoke in a passion. I cannot explain it; suddenly I was dreaming of all sorts of wicked thoughts, like the time you and I and Zana were bound to those posts, and those cute little natives where shoving those carved dildos into our..."
Constance waved her back on track. The maid looked saddened by this, clearly interested in aboriginal cultures and customs.
"Anyway," Petunia continued, "I was panting and wigging against my sheets. Finally I rolled over and saw... her. The angel. She was perched on my windowsill, clothed in gossamer silk, her long legs anchoring her on her perch. And on her back slowly beat an amazing set of wings, six feet across, their feathers quicksilver in the moonlight."
"Could you recognize her features," asked Constance, always the cop.
"She had a narrow face and merry eyes: elfin, I'd call it. And her smile was so tight and wicked, like a promise of molestation, which I suppose it was. Her hair was long and blond and swam in the faint evening breeze."
"I tried to say or do something before this aberration but I could not. I was trapped by her stare. Even though my heart was pounding a mile a minute, I wanted her to capture me. Regardless of the consequences, I rolled over on my tummy and placed my wrists behind me."
"Regardless of consequences?" Constance laughed. "Petunia, when those natives rolled over us, you were still suggesting ways they could tie you tighter when they gagged you. I have a hard time seeing you fighting something like this."
Petunia looked into Constance's eyes, and for the first time, the police officer felt a little self-conscious. Petunia looked hurt. "This wasn't cute little natives with racks of clever dildos, Connie. This was a creature of myth, something that could not be. Half of me was scared to death, the other half wanting to have a closer look at those wings and see how the muscle-groups worked. But this new part of me rose up and forced me to roll over on my belly and submit."
"Go on," Constance told her.
"I lay there for a long pause and nothing happened. It was as if the angel was studying my groveling form. Then came the flutter of wings and feet touched down to either side. There came a hiss of rope..."
"From where," Constance inquired. At her back, the maid groaned at the interruption, the empty brandy glass skittering on the trembling tray.
Petunia rolled up her blue little eyes, thinking. "I believe there was a sack on the window. Yes, I'm certain of it. I know she didn't use any of mine, since she didn't go over to the cupboard, the closet, or the hat rack where I keep most of my bedroom supply. Anyway, I continued to lay there, trembling, while I felt her hot little hands tuck my wrists together, palm to palm. And then came the rope. It was thick and snug, the way tie-up should be. I just lay there feeling my arms lose definition behind me. Then came the tug of straps and my nightie was pulled free. I blushed into my pillow, not knowing if this was a dream or a nightmare".
"But the ropes continued, looping around and around my body like knowing snakes, tightening and snuggling. Coils looped under my breasts, and the hog-tie forced them to jut fully before me. More ropes passed beneath my buttocks, causing my cheeks to press upward in the most unladylike way. More ropes went around my shoulder blades, my elbows, and my knees. The angel took her time, humming to herself as she tightened every knot up, drawing me tighter and tighter. Meanwhile, my poor nipples where throbbing and my pussy was ready to burst. I would have screamed in frustration but she'd added that thick gag. I could do nothing. I was hers."
So intent was Constance listening that she missed the sound of the brandy glass bouncing off the floor, followed by a Gallic prayer whispered on heated maiden's breath.
"And then she rolled me on my side, looking down at me, her wings slowly spreading. I was torn between fear and passion; she looked so hungrily at me, like a bird of prey. And then, with deliberate motions, she plucked a feather from either wing, still smiling down at me with that evil smile. She leaned forward, her wings spreading, slowly folding over me like a tent, their feathery tips teasing my heated flesh. And in this tent of passion, she began to work me. Her tongue and lips played across my flesh, while the feathers in her slender hands danced across my soles, my buttocks, my anus, my ribs, my nipples, and the tip of my nose. The stimulation grew to the point where I thought I would pass out, so hard was I gasping against that thick gag. Finally that golden head burrowed into my bowed, helpless twat, her tongue flickering like a magical flame, superheated against my wet lips. And that was it; I came and came and came, shuddering out each storm as angelic laugher sounded over me and a blanket of feathers set my flesh on fire. Finally, sometime before dawn, I realized that I was alone in my bed, bound and gagged as you'd found me." She smiled a wavering smile to her friend. "And that's what happened."
Constance blinked several times, trying not to focus on how tight her skirt and blouse felt, and how they were chafing her. It would not do to... relax her vigilance... here at the scene of the crime. She stood, took deep breaths, and crossed to the window to make a show of examining it for marks of which there were none. The maid slowly coiled the ropes, looking over her mistress with misty eyes, her passions uncertain.
There came a knock at the door. A moment later, a young women poked her head in.
"Sybil! How good of you to come," Petunia blurted, holding her arms wide in greeting.
"Lady Goldwaith," replied the woman as she crossed the room and hugged the recipient of miraculous molestation, "We heard about what happened at the lab. All the girls are ever so worried. I came by to see if there is anything I could do."
Petunia shook her head, coming to a sitting position and accepting a robe from a disappointed maid. "Connie, this is Sybil, one of my lab assistants. She's ever so clever. She instituted most of the improvements to the MI female manipulation devices over the last few years. I almost bought her with us to Ecuador, but she was too important to our efforts here."
Constance nodded her greetings, casing a quick practiced eye over the newcomer. Slender, slightly built, with short black hair and, quite frankly, beady eyes caged by round wire framed glasses. In fact, she was so unfeminine that she looked almost like a manni to the police woman. Still, she seemed quite concerned with her Ladyship's welfare, which was a point in her favor.
The talk between Petunia and Sybil quickly drifted to lab talk. Constance excused herself, following the maid out.
"A quick question or two for you," Constance told the French maid. When the girl turned, she asked, "How many servants does her Ladyship employ at Willie Hall? And where were they last night?"
"Zere are three of us," the girl replied, her expression frightened at being included in the investigation. "As with most nights, we are tied up in our little cells to find sleep as best we can. Yes, all of us."
"And who does the tying?"
"Ms. Anna binds us up for the night." Constance thought about this, then remembered Petunia's tale of her life. "Her governess that she forced into bondage? Her Ladyship still employees her?"
"Oh, Oui! After a year of total bondage and manipulation, as well as testing ze Ladyship's formula, Miss Anna became quite supportive of our little miss. Our mistress has ze old horror wrapped around her little finger, as she does us all." A look of hesitation. "Would you like to interview her, as well?"
Constance thought about it but shook her head. It was hard to imagine the battleaxe Petunia had described flying about on angel wings. Frankly, the whole thing was hard to imagine it at all. But the look in Petunia's eye, the passion of her description, had struck a chord in the police officer. There was a grain of truth in this fantastic tale, one that she would have to unearth. With her mind swirling through unlikely scenarios, she donned her coat and prepared to leave Willie Hall.
"Am I to stay in town?" the maid inquired. "Eff et would help, you could place me in, ou you zay? Protecteeve custody?" Eager to please, she crossed her dainty wrists before her, offering them to the scarlet-headed policewoman.
Constance considered, then finally managed, "I'll be in touch," before leaving.
21.05.09
story continues in Gai-Shift - Angel 2: Captain Zana Hoffsteder
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