In the near future a paranoid new regime persecutes those it considers enemies. Kirsten has been in hiding for years to evade arrest, her only escape from isolation being the affairs she has with covertly hired female prostitutes. However, when one of her lovers turns out to be an undercover officer for the government, she is captured and taken to an underground facility where her enslaver awaits. The beautiful officer ruthlessly trains Kirsten via sexual torment, humiliation, stringent rubber bondage and hi-tech discipline to be her completely obedient pet.
During her indoctrination she is constantly torn between hatred for her imprisonment and adoration for her slavery and the dominatrix who controls and protects her. Similarly the officer fights between loving her submissive pet and treating her with the disdain her superiors demand, because it is Kirsten’s fate to be a bound animal to her owner’s cruel will and the service of the state.
By using her skills to hunt down the last few of her kind and recruiting others into the same regime of training, it is in her captivity that Kirsten finally finds a freedom that she had never have thought possible.
The woman stood proud, aloof, and defiant of the many eyes that would widen and leer at her adorable form. It was this air of arrogance that had captured Kirsten’s interest in the first place as she scanned the many profiles for a possible commissioned partner.
She was not tall, slender, or astonishingly comely—she was not a porcelain goddess of media appetite. This woman was a creature built to act, not awkwardly pose for the voyeuristic desire of others. Her body was curvaceous with pert breasts and rear, her short white hair spiked on top and shaved at the sides, the albino spines contrasting drastically with the dark lines of her cosmetics and acute ferocious eyebrows. Her dark lips were curled into an iniquitous smile, her eyes flicking with mischief as she stood rigid, rejecting the lounging crass sprawls of the more licentious women, their splayed limbs and wanton expressions reeking of available slut. Kirsten was after a little more dignity than that. She wanted a woman, not a reedy stick whose paltry assets could have her mistaken for male given the right attire.
Many times since discovering this profile she had taken a break from her monotonous work and treated herself to a vibrator while staring diligently at this frozen view of a sultry beauty. After two weeks her resolve had finally broken and she entered the network to make an online appointment with her. When the woman accepted, Kristen had almost fainted, half expecting to be denied on the spot. Her mind was so attuned to being intolerant of permitting her anything she wished that she was sure she would be refused.
The doorbell gave a merry trio of chimes, wafting its song through the deserted house above and into her subterranean sanctum. With a gasp of jiggling enthusiasm she switched off the screen and checked her appearance one last time before grabbing her silken robe and scampering upstairs like a teenager answering the door to her first dream date.
The porch light was deliberately broken, so when she looked through the peephole all she could see was a single dark silhouette set against the suburban road beyond.
Leaving the hall light off so that she would remain hidden to the neighbours across the street should they peek from their windows, Kirsten unlocked the door. The six additional heavy bolts had previously been unfastened, her defences dropped lest the woman be suspicious as to why her client had such fortifications. Kirsten couldn’t be too careful—others in her position had been lax and had paid the price.
“I’m here to see Miss Kirsten,” said the shadow, her voice like a purr, a melodious sensual hum that entranced Kirsten and left her speechless as she savoured the words like sweetmeats.
