Here's Damsel II continuing the plight of Kate and her family, caught in a trap that seems to tighten with every struggle from her soft body or muffled scream from her well-packed mouth And now her beautiful sister, Liz, is drawn into the same, binding fate.
The cargo van pulled into a squat two vehicle garage attached to a small apartment building on the other side of the American Consulate. To all the world, it looked like just another series of rectangles piled together to make a street, but this one had some unseen benefits – like a doorway attaching the garage to the back stairs of the surprisingly well-made apartment.
Once the man had pulled the garage door closed behind them, all obsequiousness left him. His posture and face changed as if every muscle in his body had contracted. He pulled open the cargo van’s side door as if it were made of balsa wood.
Inside his wife sat with the patient. The blankets were gone, revealing Kate Lipton wearing only a white lace, midriff-baring chemise and what looked like a white lace handkerchief knotted at her right hip bone. Her wrists, elbows, ankles, and knees were strapped together with medical restraints, but the sedation mask was off, and her mother was sealing her mouth with her own vulture-like hand. “Help me with this whore,” said the woman.
“Fuck that,” said the man, who grabbed the patient like she was a mannequin, dragged her into his swarthy arms, and marched up the back stairs as if he were Frankenstein’s monster carrying a fainted victim. Kate’s hair hung down, as did the blankets, slowly falling off her as they went. The woman raced behind, picking up the coverlets, and entered the apartment shortly after.
It was a sunny and airy series of squares revealing a serviceable kitchen, living room, bath, and bedroom -- all filled with the couple’s confluence. But he marched straight through it, the shapely, bound girl still lolling in his arms, until he reached a bookcase at the far end of the living room. It was a striking image. A swarthy man with a dark face and five o’clock shadow holding a strikingly beautiful, unconscious young woman. Her glorious mane of hair hung down and her lovely lips were parted.
The man lumbered to a stop and brusquely motioned his head at the bookcase. The woman hurried forward, pressed a section at the lip of the wall, gripped the shelf sides, and swung the bookcase back. It revealed a secret opening. Inside was one more room. The rush of air coming from its disclosure ruffled the patient’s hair, and made her eyelashes flutter.
It was at that moment, of course, that Kate Lipton finally came out of her unwillingly imposed stupor. Her eyes opened, and she saw a fairly large rectangular room. A single side window was shuttered. A large steel bed was bolted to the floor. Off the headboard and baseboard hung handcuffs, rubber hoses, plastic nooses, and straps. A padded, pulpy cushion lay at the base of the frame, looking like a dog bed for a particularly large canine.
A heavy steel and wood chair was anchored to the floor to the left of that, straps bolted on the arms, legs, and back. Strewn all around were armless and legless cushions that looked like the humps of a camel.
A heavy bureau stood next to an open closet door. In the drawers were piles of lace, nylon, polyester, cotton, mesh, silk, satin, and spandex. On the hangers were cashmere, leather, latex, vinyl, PVC, rubber, and steel boning. Beneath those were dozens of high heel shoes and boots.
And across them all, on every surface, were ropes, straps, tape, vibrators, dildoes, balls, rings, bandages, bits, prods, hoods, masks, and dental as well as surgical clamps. Kate Lipton’s eyes and mouth opened wide. She drew in her breath to scream like she had never had screamed before.
When Liz stumbled into the secret room through the still open bookcase, she froze in desolation. What she saw there was a nightmarish tableau: her sister Kate in the white lace, spaghetti-strapped, midriff-baring chemise and loin cloth laying half on the floor and half on the woman’s lap, her right arm wrenched high up her back, the woman’s hand clamped so tightly over her mouth it looked about to reveal her cheek bones, while the man squeezed her throat with one hand and held her left wrist with the other.
“I told you we shouldn’t have taken her off the gas so soon!” the man growled as Kate’s legs scissored beneath the small triangle of cloth that clipped on one hip, revealing all of one leg and ninety-nine percent of the other.
“He wanted her awake!’ the woman spat back as the beautiful girl writhed in their grip, trying frantically to claw at them.
Kate looked pleadingly at her sister, but all Liz could do was look away. The younger girl collapsed on the edge of the door. In reaction, the brunette heaved her body with all her might, ignoring the horrid pain in her shoulder and face. She kicked frenetically, straining in every direction possible.
The woman held on like a tick, but the man kept slipping and cursing. It looked like the girl would either get loose or get broken when suddenly a happy, friendly voice rang out.
“Well, what do we have here?” they all heard. Each one looked around to see the consulate general standing in the secret doorway, a big smile on his face. “Looks like I came right on time, huh?”
Elizabeth Lipton started to cry. Kate Lipton screamed and screamed under the woman’s hand as the American diplomat jumped on her.