Among The Missing - Chapter 2

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Among The Missing Part 2
By Rubberwolf

© 2004 - Rubberwolf - storycodes: Sbf; M/f; latex; bondage; cons; X

Ann stared at the address that Mrs Birgett had given her as the car engine idled in the McDonalds parking lot. The empty wrappers proclaimed her lunch had consisted of a Big Mac and large fries. She slurped the last of the medium coke as she studied the town map, which she had spread out on the passenger seat. Having decided upon the best route to Nicky Birgetts apartment, she finished her drink, folded the map, so that the street she was heading for was still visible from her position, before selecting first gear and turning on to Fremont.
After three miles, she eventually came to the turning that would lead her to Nicky’s apartment. Nicky lived in a desirable section of town. Only two miles from the centre of town, Nicky’s apartment was among a complex of buildings, designed in the mid eighties to meet the projected upswing in the economy expected by the markets. As the town began to attract commercial interest, it was decided that apartments represented a sounder investment in attempting to part the influx of young, single professionals, from their expendable income.
As the economy boomed in the eighties, so did the demand for property and the developers made a nice profit, as the apartments sold quickly, at inflated prices. However, the market collapse towards the end of the decade had a dramatic effect on property ownership so that most of the flats were now owned by land lords, rather than the envisioned wealthy young professionals.
As a result, most of the tenants were now low to middle income. Although the properties were still desirable, the red brick structures now took on the air of a council estate, rather than professional apartments. This was emphasized by the layout of the award winning buildings, which were arranged in a rectangular formation around a central lawn. The designers envisioned that this courtyard would reduce crime, since all of the houses looked in on each other. The end result was that the buildings gave off the air of a Victorian prison complex, complete with exercise yard.
The flats were built on three levels. The first and second floors having balconies, while the ground floor had access to a small garden, which competed for space among the garbage lockers and a communal washing line.
Ann parked her car in the space for Nicky’s apartment and walked in to the courtyard, fighting her way over dissuaded children’s bicycles and toys, before finding the sign, which pointed to Nicky’s flat. After some searching she found herself walking up a flight of stairs to the top floor. At the top of the stairs, Ann stepped on to a shared landing that gave access to two flats. Nicky’s door was surrounded by the sort of welcoming decorations that showed a busy woman lived here. Two pot plants on either side of the door were in dire need of sunlight, although they had been watered recently. The plants displayed their obvious distress by shedding dry, brown leaves all over the dusty brown welcome mat. Confirmation that Ann had found the right place was provided by the doorbell, which had a helpful, if faded, label with Nicky’s name on it. Ann therefore dug in to her handbag and retrieved the apartment key that she had been given and opened the door.
Unlike the first impression from outside, the inside was spacious, light and well appointed. The cream walls and pale carpet appeared would, Ann mused, have been the landlords choice, while the black leather three piece suite proclaimed that this was definitely the property of a young, single person. The glass coffee table and wide screen television all pointed to the fact that the furniture had been purchased within the last two years and that, judging by the lack of junk and ornamentation, which usually grows over a lifetimes worth of collecting, the occupant had not lived away from the family home for a great period of time. However, the stark functionality had been broken up by various pot plants scattered around the flat which, unlike their unfortunate contemporaries on the door step, were obviously receiving more attention from their owner. On closer examination, Ann discovered that these too had been watered recently.
The kitchen was well laid out and well supplied. The refrigerator did not contain milk, or dairy products. Either Nicky Birgett had an allergy problem, was on a diet of some kind, or she had anticipated being away for some time and removed the items that would sour quickly from her fridge. However, these were not the most interesting things to be found in the refrigerator. Upon opening the freezer section, Ann’s eyes were automatically drawn to the ice tray. String protruded from the ice cubes. Each piece of string had a small label tied to one end. Inside each ice cube, Ann could see that there was something solid imbedded within the ice. Closer examination showed that there were keys within the ice. The string was tied to the ends of the keys. Puzzled, Ann read some of the labels. One had the word “H Cuffs”, another “Chast Belt”, yet another “Spreader”. Replacing the ice tray, Ann went to explore the rest of the apartment.
The main bedroom was as one would expect. No bedside photographs indicated that Nicky did not have anyone special in her life. The wardrobe contained the usual business clothes and shoes. Jogging pants sweat shirts and used trainers proclaimed that Nicky liked to keep in trim. However, gaps in the wardrobe, clearly apparent to a female eye, indicated that the girl had taken clothes with her. Returning to the living room, she walked across to the second bedroom. This was intriguing, since it was the only internal door with a lock on it. Apart from the computer station that dominated one corner of the living room, Ann felt that whoever Nicky Birgett really was would be answered behind this door. She collected the keys from where she had left them and the coffee table. Although she tried them all, none would fit the lock. Bending down she examined the lock. A simple, one chamber affair. Not really a problem. Ann retrieved her hand bag, from where she had left it when she came in, rummaged through its cavernous interior and returned to the locked door, lock picks in hand. After a few seconds, the lock made a satisfying click and Ann opened the door.
Ann was not sure what she was expecting to find, but this was definitely not it. The interior looked as though it had been designed by the Spanish inquisition. Nicky liked to keep in shape and, Ann mused, had opted for the DeSade work out program. A flat, wooden table dominated the room. In one corner, a modified work out bench and in another a strange, padded saw horse. Against one wall a strange wheel was bolted. Ann remembered seeing something similar at a circus. All of the furniture, no matter how strange, had one thing in common. Shackles. Ann did not need a PhD to deduce what happened in this room.
The centre of the room was dominated by a winch, below which, three sets of study iron rings were bolted to the floor in a row. Ann was shocked to discover that her mouth had become very dry and that her panties had become quite damp. Her heart missed a beat as she noticed the final occupant of the room. Behind the door that she had entered stood two large wardrobes. Ann approached them with a sense of building excitement as she reached for the handle of the first wardrobe.
As she opened the door, her senses were overwhelmed by the smell of rubber and Ann stood motionless for several seconds, gazing an awe at the contents of the wardrobe, before reaching a tentative hand out to stroke one of the garments. Ann stepped forward and began rummaging through the wardrobe like an excited child on her birthday. There were cat suits, dresses, short skirts, long skirts, shoes and boots with lethal looking spikes for heals, face masks, gloves, stockings. Her mind swam with all of the possibilities that the wardrobe presented. Taking a deep breath she stepped back, closed the door and tried to control her pulse as she stared at the second wardrobe. Ann had not realised that she could be so turned on by this stuff. However, after only a moment’s hesitation, she reached for the handle on the second wardrobe.
As she had suspected, this wardrobe contained hand cuffs, leg irons, gags and such a variety of restraints that she had trouble comprehending their variety, or use. Never the less, she reached a tentative hand and stroked a set of leather cuffs that hung from a peg on the open door. Taking them firmly in her hand, she picked up the cuffs and sniffed them, before attaching one cuff to her wrist, struggling with one hand to do up the buckle. Deep in thought, Ann noticed a box containing keys similar to the ones that she had found in the kitchen. Now she understood the labels and why the keys had been trapped in ice. How long would it take for the ice to melt? Would she like to find out? It came as a shock to her that she would, as she pictured herself wearing the most outrageous outfit, bound to one of the apparatus in the room, unable to escape for several hours until the ice had melted.
Ann returned to the first wardrobe and started to rummage through the clothes in earnest. After a short while she had amassed quite a collection of clothes on the floor. She then stood back, kicked off her sensible shoes, with two inch-squared heels and began to undress. The first thing she picked up was a pair of bright red tights. She sat down on one of the benches and tried to pull them on, but the rubber, despite her smooth, recently waxed, legs, caused too much friction for her to pull the garment on easily. Returning to the wardrobe, she was beginning to get frustrated, when she noticed a small bottle of talcum powder in one of the wooden slots, next to the most gaudy make up she had seen since she had last inadvertently flicked on to the cable porn channel. Reaching down, she snatched up the powder and returned to the bench. Having sprinkled the inside of the garment sufficiently, the tights glided up her legs, gripping them tightly in their wonderfully constrictive embrace. However, while pulling them up her thighs, she noticed something in the gusset that did not seem right. Pealing the tights back, she examined the problem. Two of the largest dildos that she had ever seen and made from some strange, jelly like plastic, were firmly attached to the inside of the tights.
“Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound,” she reasoned.
Although her pussy was now so juicy she could have solved the third world drought problems all by herself, her ass was another matter. She remembered seeing a tube of KY next to the talcum powder and so hobbled back to the wardrobe. After two generous dollops, she eased the dildos inside of her and pulled the tights up over her hips. Examining herself in one of the many, full-length mirrors that adorned the room, Ann could not suppress an excited quiver as her body informed her of its approval at the new look. And she was back before the pile of clothes before she realised that she had left the mirror.
The next item that she selected was a strange rubber corset with a confusing number of buckles attached to it. After examining it for several moments, she undid he appropriate buckles and guided herself in to the corset. The black, shiny rubber felt cool on her skin. But soon, like the tights, they warmed up nicely as she fiddled with the straps.
Having re-fastened the three straps that ran down her left side, she leant between her legs and pulled the strap that hung between her legs, pulling it towards her and attaching it to the buckle that hung down from the front of the garment, pulling tightly and forcing the dildos further in to her ass and pussy. Once she was securely wearing the corset, she then set about undoing the straps and pulling as tightly as possible before re-fastening the buckles.
Moving back to the mirror, Ann was thrilled by the result. Although the corset was full length, running, in effect, from her crotch to her neck, her boobs were exposed and the cut of the garment forced her 34D breasts in to new, undreamed of proportions. The black and red also looked very good together.
Returning to the pile, she decided to try the shoes next. She stepped in to the six inch, red court shoes and bent down to tie the single strap that wound around her ankle. Once secure, she stood up and tried to find her balance. This was not easy for a girl used to sensible shoes. She had, in her teenage years, taken to wearing four-inch heels. But they had been square and were no preparation for the way these shoes forced her weight sharply forward, or for the way that the stiletto could trip her up at a moment’s inattention. However, she was soon confidently striding around the room, admiring her silhouette as she passed by the mirrors. Ann soon discovered that swaggering around in high heels, with dildos stuck up her pussy, had distinct, but not unpleasant side effects, as she felt an orgasm building within her, caused by the movement forced on her intruders. She had only just realised what was happening when her legs began to buckle and she had to throw herself against the wall, grabbing on to a conveniently placed manacle in order to remain upright, as her body shuddered through the rigors of orgasm.
“Oh well, that was fun,” thought Ann as she ambled back to the pile of clothes intent on undressing now that she had shot her bolt. That was the plan anyway. She had nearly reached the wardrobe when she felt her pussy insist that she had not finished yet. She was amazed to discover that she was still horny and instead of getting undressed, she reached for the next item in the pile.
Ann applied plenty of talcum powder so that the bright red opera gloves slid easily up her arms. They looked, she decided, quite spectacular. Reaching down, she picked up the strange looking harness that, because of the large phallus and the shape of the straps, she had decided must be an elaborate gag of some kind. She considered the object for several seconds before replacing it on the floor pile and walking to the make up that she had seen earlier in the wardrobe. Collecting the make up box, she hobbled over to one of the benches next to a mirror.
She quickly removed her old make up, using the appropriate bottle and a wad of cotton wool. She then considered herself in the mirror for several moments before reaching for the first item of make up. Fifteen minutes later her transformation was complete and the woman who stared back at her proclaimed “For Hire”, but at a very high cost, in large glossy lettering. The bright red lipstick that she now wore had been given a layer of gloss. The rouge, as intended, had been applied generously to emphasise her cheekbones. Light blue eye shadow and a pair of artificial lashes helped to complete the ensemble. The combination of the make up, the rubber clothes and her thick, dark, shoulder length curls transformed Ann in to a sexual predator. Satisfied, she tentatively stepped back to the wardrobe, careful not to orgasm until she was ready.
Picking up the head harness that she had discarded earlier, she inserted the rubber penis in to her mouth and did up the buckles, which ran over her head, and under her jaw. Once she had finished she found it impossible to open, or close her jaw. If the tightness of the rubber had not made her feel very enclosed, the tight straps that ran around the back of her head, under her jaw and in a V shape on either side of her nose, joining at the bridge in to a single strap that went over the top of her head certainly emphasised the feeling.
The last item in the now diminished pile was a bright red posture collar. Picking up the strange devise, she walked over to a mirror so that she could see what she was doing while fitting the device. After several minutes of fumbling, the collar was, at last, in place and laced up, forcing her head back in an uncomfortable arc.
Ann then walked over to the box of keys and then took the box over to the contraption that she was to be imprisoned in. Checking the fit of the keys until she had found the right keys for the right locks, she took the keys with her and returned to the refrigerator and its ice tray. After matching the keys from the box, with their frozen counterparts, she then pulled the desired keys out of the tray and returned to the wardrobe, replacing the unfrozen keys.
With everything prepared she walked with nervous anticipation towards the strange, saw horse that she had seen earlier. She tied the frozen keys, by their strings, to the appropriate lengths of chain that adorned the contraption. She was now ready and stood with her legs apart, so that they were close to the legs of the bench. She positioned her legs so that they were resting in the open manacles that were attached to the bench legs. She then bent over and fastened the steel manacles around her ankles, locking them in place with the padlocks, which were next to the legs. Once in place, she leant over the padded bar in the centre, and pulled the thick rubber strap, attached to the bar, over the small of her back, getting as much leverage as possible in to each pull, so that when she eventually closed the buckle, she was held quite firmly.
Finally, she leant all of the way over, so that she now had an upside down view of the world. Using both hands, she reached down and grabbed the hand cuff style restraint that was chained to the forward leg of the bench. She then placed her left hand in to the cuff and used her right hand to lock it around her wrist. She then ensured that she could reach the key string with her left hand. Satisfied, she picked up the key with her right and used the steel point, on the end of the key, to lock the mechanism, ensuring that they would not tighten, before dropping the key.
The right hand cuff would be the hardest part of all, since she would have to lock it with the hand that was being secured. She had therefore tied the key string to the leg, using a release knot that would come undone easily with one tug. This held the open cuff against the leg, allowing her to catch the cuff and manoeuvre it around her wrist. It was then a simple matter of turning the cuff so as to use the bench leg as an anchor point from which to lever the device shut. She then pulled the key string and with some dexterity, inserted the point of the key in to position and locked the mechanism, before releasing the key.
Finally secured, Ann tested her bonds. All of her pulling and shifting about did not, to Ann’s satisfaction, free her, or even loosen her bonds. She was, for some reason that escaped her, enjoying herself, as she imagined herself held prisoner by a wicked crime lord, like some heroine in a trashy detective novel. She even made the appropriate noises in to her unusual gag, which, unless she sucked on it vigorously, caused drool to run out of her mouth and up her face.
After ten or so minutes, she decided that it was time to work on the dildo and so wriggled her ass around within the restraints. This did not have the same effect that she had experienced earlier. The strap across her back restricted her attempts at arousal, so that she was only able to get excited, but not, it seemed, bring her to climax. Ann, however, was not a girl to give in easily. She therefore increased her struggles in a desperate attempt to cum. After half an hour of unrewarded struggling, she looked forlornly at the key, which was still firmly embedded in ice. It would take hours, Ann reasoned, for the ice to melt sufficiently to allow her to release her. The worst of it was that she was now incredibly horny. Her efforts had succeeded in getting her aroused to the point of orgasm, but no more. In temper she screamed in to the gag and thrashed about uselessly on the bench until she was hot, sweaty and out of breath.
Ann lay panting on the sawhorse, desperately trying to think of a way to free herself, or bring herself off. The sound of a key being inserted in to the front door brought her to her senses with the speed of a sudden slap across the face. Again she thrashed fruitlessly against the bonds as she heard a male voice call in to the apartment.
“Nicky. Are you in? Nicky.”
This was not the owner of the flat returning unexpectedly, but one of her friends. Ann was stunned. All of the excuses and explanations that had rushed through her panicked brain, now fled at the sound of approaching footsteps. Ann slumped in to her bonds, resigned to her fate.
“Nicky, Ni…. Well what have we here?” the man asked as the sound of footsteps changed to the distinctive thud produced by the dungeons laminate flooring.
Ann watched with horror as a pair of shoes walked in to her line of site.
“No. Not Nicky. Who are you?”
Ann attempted the only communication that she could manage, drawing attention to the fact that she was gagged.
“Mppph. Mppph.”
“Well, if you can not speak for yourself, let’s weigh up the evidence. You are not Nicky and therefore not the owner of this flat. You have riffled through Nicky’s personal things and are now wearing her clothes. At best that makes you an intruder and at worse a thief. The question is, what am I to do with you?”
Ann struggled in to her bonds and mopped for all she was worth as the man circled her.
“The police might be interesting, but maybe you would prefer that we kept them out of it. What do you say?”
Ann could just imagine what would happen if the police arrived. She would never live this down and so, after several moments, she slumped in to her bonds.
The stranger considered her for several second before reaching some sort of decision.
“OK then. No police. But you must be punished for what you have done. Don’t you agree? Stay there, I will be back in a moment.”
Saying that, the stranger walked away. She heard the front door open and close. She was now alone in the flat again. She reached for the keys. They still had a long while yet, but if she could warm them in her hands, she might be able to melt the ice before the man returned. However, ten minutes later she heard the front door open and the mans’ footsteps stride in to the room. They went over to the wardrobe and, after what seemed an eternity, walked in to her line of vision.
The man, if it was the same man, had changed. He now a pair of shiny, black, rubber trousers and a pair of rubber boots, with shiny steel around the toe and along the sides, that she thought she recognised from the film Judge Dredd.
“You look a little uncomfortable like that. Why don’t I do something about those bonds?”
The man walked around to Ann’s head, bent down and, using one of the keys from the wardrobe, undid her left wrist. Before she could resist, the man jerked her wrist behind her and attached another cuff to her wrist. Holding her wrist against her back, he then repeated the procedure with her other wrist, until her arms were cuffed securely behind her, while positioning his body close to hers, ensuring that she did not straighten up. As well as handcuffs, the man had taken a pad lock from the wardrobe. Opening the lock, he threaded the bar through the hand chains on the hand cuff and then pulled her arms up until he could attach the pad lock to a D ring on the posture collar. Once this was clicked in place, he left his prisoner to return to the wardrobe.
Ann unbent, as much as she could with the strap pulled tightly across her back. She felt that she had been bent over for hours and heard satisfying clicking noises as her spine was allowed some freedom after so long.
“Who said you could move thief?” demanded the man as he marched imperiously towards her.
Ann only had a short glimpse of the man advancing towards her. But it was to form an initial impression. He was a little older than she was, perhaps twenty-eight, but no more than thirty. He was well built, with dark hair and hazel eyes. He was also clad, neck to toe, in glossy black rubber.
“We shall have to do something about your wilfulness,” the man scolded as he bent her over again.
His rubber clad hand flashed in to her line of sight as, bending down, he grabbed one of her exposed breasts. His other hand, which was holding something long, like chord, came in to view. Her nipples were shamefully erect and needed little encouragement as the man toyed with her. Just as she was getting aroused again she screamed in to the gag as the man painfully clamped something on to her nipple. She tried to arch back, but the mans hand shot out and clamped on to the top of her head.
She watch, mesmerised, as the man pulled on the chord, which stretched as he did so and fed it through an eye hole mounted on the floor above her head. He then pulled the chord through, grabbed her breast and clamped the chord on to her other erect nipple, eliciting another loud noise in to the gag.
“There, isn’t that more comfortable thief?” demanded the man as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Although your posture could do with a little more adjustment,” the man stated as he headed back to the wardrobe.
Ann watched him go, but her eyes were drawn down ward to her breasts and the bright red bungee chord which pulled her nipples painfully towards her. Sensing movement, she looked through her legs towards the man who approached her carrying something that looked like the strange spanner that you find in your boot for changing tyres.
The man stood at her side and bent down, inserting the spanner in to the hexagonal nut, just under the padded bar. He then began to tighten the nut.
Ann was not sure what was happening, but she knew that the bar was getting higher, pulling on her chords and stretching her legs until they were so tight that her feet left the security of the ground. While she was contemplating this, the man appeared in the view again, this time brandishing a large riding crop.
“Time to take your punishment thief,” the man announced as the riding crop arched towards her ass.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
The three blows were delivered in quick succession to her exposed bottom, causing her to jerk in her bonds and scream in to her gag.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
More blows rained down on her unprotected ass so that it burned and throbbed. Ann began to sob with the pain and humiliation that she was suffering and also with the shame that she was seriously turned on. The motion of her ass, inspired by her beating had caused an unexpected reaction from the dildos. As a consequence, Ann found that she was very wet and very, very horny.
Ann was not sure when the beating finished, all that she knew was that she was sobbing, horny and that the man was now standing by her head and pulling her head back. He reached for the gag and demonstrated that he could have asked for an explanation at any time, without removing the harness, as he unclipped the penis from the harness and removed it from her mouth. Although this offered some freedom, she still could not close her mouth, due to a steel ring, attached to the head harness that was trapped in her mouth.
“Well, what have you got to say for yourself thief?” the man demanded.
Ann was not sure where the words came from, or who was saying them, only that she wanted them to be true. She was not sure what this said about her, or her morals, but they were spoken before she could think of anything else.
“Uck ee. Uck ee ow. Ease?” Ann begged of her captor, who merely chuckled and undid the strange studded rubber codpiece that he was wearing, letting it fall open and expose his pride and joy.
Ann stared in wonder at the ten-inch cock, which was covered in thick black rubber, apart from the bulb, which was bare.
“Then I suggest you open wide,” the man chuckled as he grabbed her hair and pulled her head painfully up, level with his cock.
Ann greedily engulfed his man hood, as best as she could, as he rammed it to the back of her throat and started to pump her face. The man, as if to underscore her position, punctuated each thrust with a stinging blow from the riding crop. This caused the most delicious ripples to spread through the dildo, sending her already sensitive pussy to the point of orgasm.
Finally, she felt the tell tale quiver from the mans’ penis. This was quickly followed by an impressive eruption of cum, which filled Ann’s mouth and senses with the sticky, salty taste of cum. As if responding to some subliminal signal, Ann’s orgasm was triggered almost at the same moment, causing her to buck in her bonds as her body was wracked by the strongest orgasm she had ever know.
All sense of reality fled as Ann, gripped by violent convulsions, screamed in to the mans cock, jerking upright, causing thick, sticky, cum to splash her face and hair and causing the nipple clamps to be pulled off of her agonised nipples with a resounding twang.
Ann lay slumped, panting and twitching, across the cross bar, as the man undid her restraints.
“Hi, I’m Dave,” said the man. “How do you know Nicky? I don’t recognise you from the club.”
It was time to come clean. Ann waited until she had been released before hobbling in to the living room.
“I don’t actually know her,” Ann confessed. “I am a private investigator. Her mother hired me to find her. Apparently she has been missing for some weeks.”
“Do you have any ID. I mean, you didn’t appear to be investigating much when I found you.”
Ann hid her blush as she bent down and took her licence from her bag. Although she still did not make eye contact as she handed him the document.
“To be honest, I don’t know what I was doing. I just found all of this stuff and it’s like…. Like.” Ann struggled to find the words to convey what she had been doing when Dave found her. “Like I don’t know. I just had to try on the clothes and”
Ann was interrupted at the eruption of laughter coming from Dave. She was not surprised by his reaction, she was used to it. But she had never had a reaction as strong as this. Usually it is a look, or a suppressed grin. But never open, gut wrenching laughter.
“Ann Summers. This has to be a fake. Then again, it does have a certain symmetry. Ann Summers. Private eye to the kinky and perverse. Oh God that’s rich,” he chortled as he handed back her card (Note to Americans, Australians and other rare and exotic creatures: Ann Summers is the brand name for a popular chain of high street stores that sell kinky underwear and sex toys).
Ann staggered over to the bathroom.
“So what are you doing here. Are you Nicky’s boyfriend?”
“No I am her neighbour. We did go out for a while. But since we are both Doms, it didn’t really work out. No I just agreed to water her plants while she was away, although she has been gone longer than I expected. You don’t think anything has happened to her do you?”
Ann emerged from the bathroom, having wiped the cum from her face, went in to the kitchen and put the kettle on for coffee. God did she need a coffee.
“I don’t know, that is what I intend to find out.”
Five minutes later, Ann was sitting on Dave’s lap like a love struck teenager, discussing her options and questioning Dave on what Nicky had said the last time that they had talked.
“There is not much to tell. Apparently her father had just died and she needed a few days to herself. She was a little distraught. But I don’t think that Nicky would do anything, you know, stupid. I hope not anyway. How will you find her?”
“Well,” Ann considered for a moment. “I will need to have a look at her computer. That’s usually a good place to start. You also mentioned a club. It sounded like this is a place that she attends quite often, so that might be a good place to ask questions.”
Dave considered for several moments before answering.
“It’s a fetish club. You will need a member to escort you in. There is also a dress code. But you already have that sorted. When were you thinking of going?”
“Tonight,” Ann answered without hesitation. “Although I think I had better buy my own clothes, rather than Nicky’s. If her friends recognise that I am wearing her clothes it might cause complications. Where do I go to buy this stuff anyway?”
A grin spread over Dave’s face.
“You might want to change your clothes before we go. Although I don’t mind if you don’t.” Dave’s grin got wider as he eyed her with open lust. “When you’re ready I am going to take you on the most exciting shopping trip of your life.”

So, what shall I say? Nothing really new, but well written. For some reason I like the dressing scene, even more than the following self-bondage.
If there is a Part 3, submit it. I would like to read some more of it before I review it on the story site (till now, it would be a "7").

Thanks Venom. There is indeed a part 3, which I will submit now. As for nothing new, you are probably corect. You could say the same for most stories, especially when dealing with a particular fetish. All that remains is the storytellers skill.

Anyway, will save the philosophy and get on with posting more chapters.

Rubberwolf