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From: "Leviticus" <leviticus1@uswest.net>
Subject: {ASSM} To Catch Rhianna   Part 10  (BDSM)
Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 19:10:06 -0400
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To Catch Rhianna part 10



   Back in New York, Matthew Anderson stepped into the home of James
Vessor, Rhianna's boss at the FBI.  He was shown into the living room by
the rather corpulent housekeeper.

   "I'll tell Mr.  Vessor you're here," she said.

   Matthew nodded and smiled his thanks, and the woman waddled away.

   There were many things to look at in this room, but Matthew was drawn to
a portrait that dominated one wall.  It was of a striking young woman, and
the artist had captured an almost wild and intense pleasure in the woman's
eyes.

   Matthew had never met her, although he knew who she was.  Amanda Vessor,
James Vessor's wife, or ex-wife now.  She and Vessor had divorced long
before Matthew met him, and while Vessor rarely talked about it, Matt
suspected that the separation had something to do with Vessor's BDSM ties.

   What hurt his friend the most, Matt remembered, was that he had no
visitation rights with his daughter Chase.  Now Chase was an adult, but one
poisoned by her mother against her father.  It was a dark spot in Vessor's
past, and Matthew knew well enough not to go there.  Still, she had been a
striking beauty when she was young, but as he stood admiring the portrait,
he couldn't help thinking that the face was familiar to him after all. 
There was something about the shape of her face, and the energy behind her
eyes.  It was a face he had seen recently.

   The housekeeper came back in.  "Mr.  Vessor will see you upstairs in his
study."

   Matthew followed the large woman up the stairs, smiling slightly at all
that flesh undulating before him under the simple dress she wore, and went
into the room that she indicated.

   He found himself in a room set up like an office, complete with file
cabinets, desk, and desktop computer.  It even had a woman at the desk, a
pleasant looking woman who smiled as he came in.  "Hello, I'm Sandy, Mr. 
Vessor's secretary.  He's on the phone right now and will be with you in a
moment."

   "Thanks," said Matthew, stepping forward to get a better look at her. 
He was glad he did, and raised his eyebrows when he saw her predicament.

   Sandy was fully clothed in typical secretarial attire, but some
adjustments had been made to her blouse to allow for a rather unusual piece
of bondage.

   Attached to the front of the desk, rising upward in a V shape, were two
slender metal rods with clips on the end, locking clips from the looks of
them.  And Sandy, she had tiny slits in her blouse that allowed her nipples
to poke through and become trapped in these clips.  To all intents and
purposes, she was sitting normally at her desk at the correct posture and
was properly dressed, except that with her nipples locked into those clips
she could position herself no other way or even leave.  The V shape of the
rods allowed her to type or write normally, so she could still get her work
done.

   Matthew smiled.  "Are you Jim's house slave?" he asked her.

   Sandy blushed, knowing that he could see her predicament, and she could
do nothing to stop him.  "No, Sir.  Mr.  Vessor is currently unattached. 
We merely play games.  I'm his secretary, not his lover."

   "You're his real secretary?  The one he has at work?"

   "Yes, Sir," she said with a smile.  She liked the look of the man; he
had a rough, outdoors kind of an air about him.

   Matthew laughed.  "Good for Jim.  No wonder he has an office in his
home, you wouldn't want to play games like this at the FBI!"

   "Well..." Sandy said, blushing some more.

   "What?" Matthew asked, intrigued.

   Sandy shifted her chair back a little, stretching her nipples enough to
let him look down at her lap.  It obviously caused her some discomfort, so
Matthew knew she had something worthwhile for him to see.

   What he saw was her legs spread wide and tied to the corners of her
chair.  Her dress was lifted so she sat bare assed on the seat, and buried
in her pussy was a rather thick dildo.

   Looking closer, Matthew could see that the dildo was attached to a strap
that fastened it to the chair seat.

   Matthew stood back, and with a relieved sigh, Sandy moved forward again.
"At work, I have to sit on this monster all day," she said with an
embarrassed smile.

   "You're kidding!"

   "No, Sir.  It's fun but I dare not get out of my chair when anyone is
around.  It can be awkward at times."

   Matthew laughed.  "I bet.  So why are you telling me all this; it must
be embarrassing for you?"

   "Well, Sir.  Only people whom Mr.  Vessor trusts are allowed to see me
like this, and...well...I like the thrill of being embarrassed."

   Matthew laughed again.

   Suddenly Sandy's eyes opened a little wider and she stiffened up. 
Matthew could hear a small muffled buzzing noise for just a moment, then it
stopped and Sandy relaxed.

   "Mr.  Vessor will see you now," she told him.

   "Let me guess, that thing is a vibrator and it's remote controlled."

   Now Sandy laughed.  "Better than an intercom!"

   Shaking his head with mirth, Matthew went through to the second office
to fine James Vessor waiting for him.

   Unlike the outer office, this room was set up more like a conventional
study, with bookshelves and easy chairs.  In one corner was a roll top
desk, and that was where Vessor sat.

   He was not quite as relaxed as his room was, though.  He still wore a
shirt and tie, but he had traded in his jacket and wing tips for a wool
sweater and slippers.

   Vessor stood up and held out his hand.  "Matthew, it's good to see you
again."

   "Hi Jim, it's good to see you too," said Matthew taking his hand.  The
men pumped hands twice then let go.

   "You look fit, Matthew, very healthy."

   "I have you to thank for that, Jim.  I really appreciate what you did
for me, setting it up so I could spend the last six months of my time at
home."

   "You saved one of my Agent's lives, I repaid that debt," Vessor said
sternly.

   Matthew nodded thoughtfully.  Vessor had made it clear to him in that
one sentence that all debts and favors between them were cleared.

   "Did you want something to drink?" Vessor asked him.

   Matthew shook his head, so Vessor gestured toward the easy chairs, and
they sat down.

   "That's some secretary you have out there," Matthew said, feeling a
little uncomfortable for some reason and not knowing why.

   "Yes, Sandy is a good worker and surprisingly inventive.  It's too bad
she isn't serious about our hobby, she could go far."

   Matthew smiled.  "You know, it's not often I've seen you so open
about...our hobby.  Even at some of the functions we've been to, you seem
more the observer than a participant."

   "True, but a man in my position has to be careful."

   "How can you be careful with your secretary sitting on a dildo in your
office?"

   "Deniability.  She gets caught I know nothing about it and fire her on
the spot." Vessor laughed and Matthew smiled.

   "I seem to remember a lot of people who would be in the same boat as you
if word got out.  How is the old crew?" Matthew asked him.

   "Much the same, much the same.  Paul Brey is a widower now."

   "No, really?"

   "Yes," said Vessor, recalling to mind that night in Central Park, and
the incredible image of a nude and painted Rhianna Summer brandishing her
weapon, firing it in an attempt to save a little girl's life.

   "What happened?"

   "Nothing you would care to hear about," said Vessor.  "But what about
you?  How is that remarkable home of yours doing?  You know I greatly
admire what your people are doing up there."

   "Care to join us?" Matthew asked him, making both men laugh.

   Matthew's home was a commune in the Colorado Mountains.  Well, not
exactly a commune, but a large collection of families that had forsaken
most of man's technology to live a simpler life.  Founded in the 1930's,
several generations of people had been born and raised there.  Some left,
like Matthew did, when they are young adults, to find fame and fortune in
the outside world.  And some of those, like Matthew again, return to the
flock.

   Matthew tried to imagine the very straight-laced Vessor in the leather
clothing they wore on the mountain, it was an almost impossible image.

   Vessor took stock of the man chuckling across from him.  Matthew really
did look fit; the simple shirt and pants he wore doing little to disguise
his physique.  He also wore what looked to be hand tooled leather boots,
and around each wrist, he wore wide leather bands with designs cut into
them.

   They looked familiar, and it took Vessor a moment to place where he had
seen them before.  Rhianna wore similar bands the day she got back from
Colorado six months before.  He saw them on her just the once.

   Vessor knew that Matthew and Rhianna had a history; after all, it was he
who brought them together.  That it had lasted this long despite the
brevity of any real contact between them surprised him greatly.

   "So," he said, shaking the thoughts from his head, "what brings you here
today?"

   Matthew took a breath before answering.  "Rhianna Summer.  I'd like to
get in touch with her if I could, Jim."

   Vessor wasn't surprised.  "She's on assignment.  But I can give you her
home phone number."

   "I have that already, Jim, and her address.  In fact, I was over there
before coming here.  Met a man who said he was staying in her apartment
while she was away."

   "Ah yes, Deputy Bart Maxell, I met him too."

   "He said you gave her the assignment yourself."

   "Yes, he's right."

   "Can you tell me about it, or at least tell me where she is?" Matthew
asked.

   "You know I don't comment on my Agents' assignments, Matthew," Vessor
exclaimed.

   Matthew leaned forward.  "Don't get cagey with me, Jim.  I wouldn't ask
this if I didn't need to reach her."

   "Perhaps, if you told me why you needed to talk to her," Vessor said.

   "You can reach her then?  She isn't in trouble?"

   "Why do you think she's in trouble?"

   "Maxell said she was overdue, her assignment was only supposed to be for
a few days and now it's been a week."

   "She isn't in trouble, she's undercover.  I get faxes from her every
day, progress reports.  In fact, I don't send anything back to her at all,
she says it would be too dangerous and would blow her cover.  Your news
will have to wait, Matthew."

   Matthew sat back.  "It isn't Bureau business, is it, Jim?  She's on one
of her special cases."

   Vessor inclined his head, not willing to verbally confirm or deny.

   Matthew pressed on.  "This is Group business, isn't it?  Again, you're
using her to help cover up someone's indiscretion.  You guys have to keep
your secrets, don't you!"

   "You know about secrets too, Matthew.  You have a lot of your own to
keep, as well as a lot of other people's.  I must tell you that it
frightened many people when you were convicted of smuggling two years ago.
Many thought that you would trade some of those secrets for a quick
release."

   "I was tempted," Matthew confessed, not willing to think about his time
in the Georgia State Pen'.

   "I expect you were.  But influential people knew you were a man of
honor. It prevented...well we did the best we could to reduce your
sentence."

   "And that to is appreciated.  But are these same people running
something that Rhianna is now involved in?"

   Vessor wouldn't answer him.

   "Very well," Matthew said angrily.  He stood up and headed for the door.

   "Matthew," Vessor said.  "Don't do anything stupid.  Let Agent Summer
finish her assignment and then you can talk to her."

   "And how long will that take?"

   Vessor shrugged.

   "I thought so," Matthew replied, and he left the room.

   Vessor went back to his desk, his thoughts on Rhianna and what Matthew
might do.  He reached for the phone.


   ---***---


   Ben Lane sat in his home in Kew, near the famous London gardens.  His
front windows overlooked the Thames, and he gazed at the shoreline across
the river without seeing it.

   In front of him, spread out on a low table, were the collected photos he
had been promised of Amy, a few coming to him each day.  In all of them,
she was naked and bound, usually in a single armbinder.  The later ones
also showed her in a leather body harness that did nothing to cover her
nudity.  She looked tired, and at times a little desperate.

   In some of the photos, the close ups that showed her eyes, there was
also fear.

   This is what got to Ben the worst, the look of fear in her eyes.  Sure,
many times he had generated that fear in her himself, but it was always in
the knowledge that she really wouldn't get hurt and that he was in control.
It was also in the knowledge that she too knew, deep down, that she was
safe, despite outward appearances.  Fear had been a kind of aphrodisiac for
both of them, but now it meant something entirely different.

   Ben was not in control; there was nothing to make Amy feel safe deep
down, her fear was as genuine as it got.

   For the millionth time Ben cursed himself for placing her in this
position.  He would gladly have given up all he had to get her back.

   But at least she was still alive, as the newspapers in the pictures
confirmed to him.  At least, she was alive up to when the picture was
taken.

   His mornings since he was informed of her kidnapping by the kidnappers
were filled with anguish, as he waited for that day's pictures to arrive.
When they came, he would tear open the envelope and sigh in relief at the
images he had received.  Then the rest of the day, his anxiety would slowly
build as he wondered if the next day he would NOT get any pictures.

   It was not a way to live.  Not being in control was tearing him to
pieces.

   Ben bent forward, his head in his hands, and his eye was caught by one
of the pictures on the table.  It was a close up of Amy's genitals, and it
showed a metal tag attached to a short chain that hung from a thick ring
that pierced one of her labia.  She had been tagged like an animal.

   Ben focused on the picture and reached out for it.  Mesmerized, he
picked it up and brought it to his face.

   With slow, deliberate movements, he crumpled the picture up, his anger
building inside him.  Crushing the offending picture between his large
hands, Ben screamed just once in rage, his voice making the windows of the
room shudder.

   Then he was quiet once more.

   It was time to stop being the victim.  It was time to start taking some
action.

   Ben's organized mind replayed the events that had brought them so much
grief, the holiday in the Bahamas that was supposed to have been one of the
high points in their lives.

   When did it go wrong?

   Ben's mind focused on the one man that seemed to have started it all. 
He didn't know if the man was innocent or not, even though he had been a
great help to Ben and the Pipers while they were down there.  But he did
keep on popping up.

   Ben knew that to find Amy he needed answers to certain questions, and he
would have to begin at the beginning.

   With Philip Townsend.





End of Part 10.

Catch up on all my stories at http://www.dajungle.com/stories/leviticus

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