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To understand the Gai Shift, please read the previous story Gai-Shift prior to reading this one.
Chapter 3: 'Great Expectations'
Another night passed.
In a high loft, a flower girl struggled against her unshiftable ropes, her hard nipples and moistened mat a clear sign of the fearful excitement coursing through her. Gagged, her thoughts spun a desperate mantra; "I'm just a flower girl! What does it want with me? I'm just a flower girl..."
On her windowsill, a fearfully erotic visage looked over the struggling bundle of womanhood. The slender body, hardly concealed by silken wraps, tensed. A hungry smile parted cruel lips. Eyes glimmered beneath billowing bangs of gold.
And most strange and fantastic were the wings that spread wide, eclipsing the blue moon. Rank upon rank of pure white feathers rippled in the nocturnal breeze, a rolling caress. Then, with a single beat of these wings, the creature crossed to the bed, landing over the helpless victim like a creature of prey. The wings folded around the bundled form. There came a little shriek, then a tearful mewing as orgasms were milked, one after the other.
Several streets away and many hours later, a strong tight fist wrapped on a chemical-stained doorway, just below the bronze doorplate which read "Goldwaith Laboratory. Trespassers will be used in sexual testing."
Eventually the door opened and a young woman peered into the noon sun. Her eyes widened at the figure before her. "Honest, officer, we let Miss Josephine go! We only kept her for three nights! No harm, er, lasting harm done..."
Officer Drummand shook her head in aggravation, her scarlet hair brushing her uniform's shoulders. "Chief Officer Constance Drummand to see Lady Petunia Goldwaith." At the officious tone, the girl opened the door and nervously led the police officer into the laboratory complex.
They traversed long hallways marked by alcoves of darkness. From one, hysterically giggling female laughter begged for mercy. In another, moans of sorrowful pleasure radiated from a dial-laden crate. And in another, a woman's head jutted from a vertical rubberized sheath which pulsed under high loading from various steam-leaking pipes. The subject was prevented from complaining by thick medical tape that sealed her lips in wide sticky bands. Three women consulted gauges. One of them opted to raise the pressure just a little higher.
Eventually the guide led Constance into a lecture hall, with rings of seats descending to where a single figure spoke. Before taking her own seat, she gestured down to the center-most seat where Lady Goldwaith sat, so prim and proper, in a mint-green dress whose cleavage dove so daringly into the canyon between her generous breasts. Petunia sat in total concentration to the lecture, in opposition to the chaos around her.
The girls to all sides, all pretty young lasses, seemed to be in a state of confusion. One of them sat so still with her arms to her side, until Constance realized that the girl had pressed her hands down through her coat belt, an open act of self bondage. Two of them she caught openly brushing their own tits, their blushes nearly lighting the hall. The remainder of them leered openly at her Ladyship, except one who seemed to have swooned.
She was still frowning at this when a voice drolled from behind her. "I didn't figure you to be the studious type."
Sybil, the lanky, boyish assistant to her Ladyship, stepped up next to Constance, smiling down at the antics. She was garbed in a long black dress, its modest neckline sporting a thin band of lace, a pair of boots poking from the hemline. The faint lighting from the distant lectern shimmered against her round glasses, and her short black hair seemed to be an extension of the gloom.
"I'm here to see her Ladyship," Constance explained.
"Be careful when you get close to her today. Lady Goldwaith is, well, rather potent as you can see from the distress. Oh, I'm sure tomorrow we'll be spending much of the morning unbinding the younger students from whatever hidey-holes the upper classwomen will have hidden them in. Pranking, spanking, and planking." The gothic woman spared a humorous smile. "Would you like to stay the night?"
Constance ignored the barb, focusing on the slight girl light by the gaslight projection device. "Who is that?"
"The one speaking? That's Rani. She's a gem. Came to us from India a year ago and has been so helpful. She's organizing a daring expedition."
"Oh? To where?"
Sybil smiled. "The Pits."
Constance frowned at the joke, but as she listened, she realized it wasn't. That same pit that malcontents were occasionally lowered into at the station house, and which every so often snatched a spare student into its dark recesses, was now about to be explored. This dark little girl, so boldly looking out into her audience, spoke about the unspeakable as if it were a walk in the park.
The police officer studied her; her trim figure was garbed in a sari, a long scarf draped over one shoulder. Her face was round, her features condensed and determined. Her long black hair had been bound back as a cruel mistress binds and forgets her helpless slave, the ribbons tight and exacting. Her voice was as clipped and concise as her personality.
"...and just what is this so-called Pit?" Rani continued, her brown eyes transfixing the hall. "It was noticed some time ago, back when our laboratory expanded into the basement space of the nearby police station. Our computers merged, but with unexpected results. While our experiments into Mechanical Intelligence, particularly in the fields of popular 'capture and ravish' software benefited from this, there were side effects. Students ended up missing. Additional devices came online, devices nobody could remember designing. There are conveyor belts with waiting straps which lead down darkened passageways to unknown areas. So as a result, our extraction devices go dormant as the lustful quest of knowledge is replaced by fear of the unknown. For the first time in a year, we are having to run this facility on city steam, since there is a shortage of orgasium".
"I plan to lead a small expedition to the depths of the Pit, to see what lies there. It might be a rogue MI or some mad genius, but we must know. We cannot have this unknown threat just beneath our feet."
"Do you think the angel that's been attacking women in this district comes from the Pit?" Someone asked.
"Doubtful. Wings would have little use under ground. I cannot imagine such an evolution."
"Your expedition; aren't you afraid of being captured, bound, and stripped," came a voice from the darkness. "Aren't you worried about being carried deep into the earth by mechanical devices, to be probed and prodded and, well, fucked until you scream?"
"I am not afraid," Rani replied. "I have trained long hours on the MI devices and can endure most of what they could administer to my body. I am ready for the challenge." And since nothing more could be said at that point, she concluded her lecture. Constance watched the small woman collect her notes and was impressed. If only the girl was a policewoman, not a scientist. She broke from her thoughts when Sybil tapped a finger on her shoulder, indicating that she follow. The two descended the steps into the lecture room, slipping past chatting groups of girls. Constance studied the murmuring, hesitant women, none of whom looked like they would be volunteering to accompany the tiny Indian lass into the darkness.
With Sybil leading, they made for where Petunia stood, chatting with a group of gushing students. Just when she was within six feet of the chief scientist, and just when the blonde's face lit up in surprise at seeing her old friend, a curious thing happened. For a moment the police officer smelled lilacs before a wave of lust hit her like a bat. She felt her pussy tremble and her nipples harden. Suddenly she had the inexplicable urge to cross her wrists and offer them to her immodest friend, knowing full well that a trip into Rani's Pit would be safer.
She wobbled uncertainly, her eyes watering. Her mind flashed to that exhausting morning following her night in the High Mistresses' dungeon. Petra, Captain Hoffsteder's XO, had strapped her snuggly to her bunk. Yet she'd been pulled from her heavy sleep by playful fingers. Petunia had come across her in her helplessness and had proceeded to molest her in the most thorough and absolute manner possible. Constance still blushed when she recalled the things her Ladyship had done. In the end, after a series of micro orgasms, Petra had discovered Petunia's trespasses and hauled the damp-fingered abuser from the cabin.
She blinked back to the present, where Petunia smiled so sweetly. Constance found herself struggling not to simply fall to her knees and hug her Ladyship's bootlets in sickly, desperate love. It was all she could do to remain standing. She took hold of a chair, wiping sweat from her brow.
"I don't understand..."
"Isn't it wonderful, Connie? It's my newest invention. I've taken the elixir that causes women, after much distress and hysterics, to produce orgasium and concentrated it. Normally its nearly odorless, but I mixed it with a common scent. Doesn't it make the most marvelous perfume?"
Constance blinked away her tears. "Petunia, you're wearing that stuff? In public? Are you mad? Do you know what might result in?"
"Oh, I don't know," the curvy blonde answered, a finger placed along her round little chin. "It seems to work quite well as an icebreaker."
To one side, two students had given up on restraining their passions and were now eagerly binding up another girl. The poor lass rocked in her bonds desperately pigeon-toed as if that would ward off her coming climax. An apple, perhaps destined for some teacher's desk, had been jammed into her mouth, silencing her whining protests.
"I think," Petunia continued, "I'll market it under the brand name 'Great Expectations'. So what do you think, Connie?" She thrust a wrist under the police woman's nose.
One whiff, and Constance remembered the bite of the ropes and the chafe of the pole running down her back and between her tight buttocks. Once again, giggling native girls hauled her feet clear of the floor, lifting them up behind her. Now her pussy yawned in anticipation of the fearsome dildo the smiling Andeans were oiling up, their eyes flashing in the torchlight. The head of the evil thing gleamed as it was positioned against her pussy's lips. The native girl smiled up, her arm tensing. Constance shook her head. No... No...
Then discreetly pinched herself hard, trying to ignore the pounding of her blood and the rippling of her passions.
At her side, Sybil blinked away tears. "Her Ladyship has been applying her fragrance rather thickly. I've told her she doesn't need to be so... direct."
At her side, Constance now understood her earlier references, of how the student body would be bound, stripped, and played with overnight. Lady Petunia's erotic aroma was slowly cooking the passions of this room full of impressionable young women. Even for Goldwaith's loose standards, it was a bit over-the-top.
Petunia smiled past Constance, her face radiating its typical good cheer. "Ah, Rani, my sweet pet. An excellent presentation of your expedition. You can count on me to accompany you."
Rani smiled a sweet yet firm smile. "Now, Lady Goldwaith, we've already discussed this. You are too valuable to risk on such an gambit."
Constance tried to collect herself from the effects of Petunia's devilish perfume. It seemed to fill her senses with alluring possibilities. She found herself looking at little Rani, her mind churning out the most horrible fantasies. How wondrous it would be to give herself, mind and body, to this dominant little minx. She imagined the girl's apartment to be exotically furnished with thick rugs and native hangings. Incense curled up from copper braziers. Rani, with that same firm look she'd cast from her lectern, would look into Constance's eyes, her small hand extended, demanding her clothing. Blushing, Constance would strip, the warm scented air enveloping her naked flesh. Rani would turn her, hot fingertips guiding her by the shoulder blades.
Without words, her little mistress would pluck long sashes from a nearby rack. Constance would hiss through slightly-chattering teeth as the fabric bands tightened around her wrists and elbows, forcing her modest breasts to jut like Petunia's. And then, once her arms were irrevocably locked behind her, the slender little girl would take her clothing to the small fireplace and toss them in. Now sitting on her butt with the determined brown girl tightly binding up her legs and ankles, she'd watch as the remnants of her clothing flared into ash. There would be no going back from that point. Rani would own her, now and forever...
A small orgasm rippled through Constance, rattling her back into the present. Damn Petunia and her dangerous fragrance. In the long term, Constance would have to add it to the list of banned substances lest riots ensue. But for now, she had more immediate problems, like an angel that sailed the night sky and left a trail of roped, drained women in her wake.
Perhaps it was the perfume or the triggered orgasm that opened Constance's path for her. One moment, she was standing there in wet panties, surrounded by horny women and a chattering Petunia. The next, all the pieces fell into place. Likely someone was using that aero-contraption to fly about the Knightsbridge area, binding up women for sinister purposes. That someone had doctored the shipment records, leaving Zana Hoffsteder to take the fall. And that someone was likely in this room.
What Constance needed was a trap. And traps required bait.
With that, a hard smile curled along her slim lips.
"Oh, Petunia," Constance said sweetly.
"Yes, Connie dear?" Blue eyes flashed in expectation, wondering what delicious request the police officer might make.
"You are under protective arrest." Before the startled scientist could react, Constance spun her around, bent her over a desk, and snatched up her failing hands. From her pocket, she drew the slip noose which went neatly around the prisoner's wrists. As she looped in additional coils, she continued her statement. "You are wanted for questioning for the role of Goldwaith Laboratories in the recent angel attacks. I am taking you into custody for inquisition." With that, she hauled on the final knot, locking Petunia' soft hands together within a band of cordage.
Her own nipples were rock hard and she thrilled at the feel of Petunia's thinly-clothed ass pressing against her own thighs. Looking around, she noted that the entire hall was watching, a ring of startled female faces. Good. This was exactly what she was counting on. Now, if she could just keep from cuming until she got Petunia out of here.
"But Connie, maybe you'd rather have me wrap you up in burlap and silk. I've got a wonderful screw-tickler..."
Constance pointed to Rani's shoulder scarf and snapped her fingers. Respectful of authority, the lithe Indian girl handed it over. With a quick motion, Constance whipped it around and around Petunia's head, filling her mouth, stifling her protests. With a lustful flare, she knotted the gag home. This done, she hauled the teetering Petunia to her feet. The scientist grunted, staring around at her students in flustered surprise.
"If you are taking her to the police station," noted the lanky Sybil, "We'd like to pay her bond. Her leadership is as critical as it is never-ending."
"I'm taking her to my flat," Constance told her in a voice meant to carry. "I'll question her the evening and keep her overnight for, heh, observation. In the morning, I'll determine what will happen to her next."
With that, the policewoman forced Lady Goldwaith up the stairs and out the door. As she departed, voices rose like a confused sea. Given her ladyship's perfume, the discussion about the perils of the Pit, and the nicely-roped arrest, there wasn't a dry seat in the house.
Constance hoped it would be enough to draw out the so-called Knightsbridge Angel.
08.06.09
story continues in Gai-Shift - Angel 4: Caught in the Trap
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