Casey Butler and Mistress Claw Part 2 http://literfull12.deviantart.com/art/Casey-Butler-and-Mistress-Claw-Part-2-423394966 Eucalyptus fills my nostrils, and jolts me awake. A smelling salt. Used to rouse the unconscious. I wish it hadn't. "I've decided to go with Nylon, rather than the polypropylene rope I used before," I hear Cybil chime in, from the left of me. My arms are crossed behind my back, like a reverse mummy. Lashed tightly, with another cord of rope wrapped around to ensure they stay there. My knees have rope around them, and my calves have been bent back so far that they're almost touching the back of my thighs. I can literally feel my heels touching the top of my thighs, right underneath my ass. Another batch of ropes is tied around my calves and thighs. There's more rope above and below my breasts, for what I don't know. At least her let me keep my black sports bra and underwear. But this hurts, and it's aches. And I can't move. The Tie is stricter than the last. It literally hurts the skin, underneath the rope binding me. I look down, and I see that I'm inches off the floor. My knees so close to the ground, but so far away. "I have three ropes wrapped around, secured to three suspension points," she explains."One on your left side, another on your right, and one on you back. And if you haven't noticed, there's another rope secured to a point on the floor, beneath your knees." "MMMMMPH!" Is the only response that comes from my mouth. There's a foul taste in my mouth, and it's probably coming from the rag jammed in it. It's gross, and I'd spit it out, if it weren't for the black tape wrapped around my mouth. "Would hate to leave you wondering, but that's one of your socks that I put in your mouth. Still wet from your run this morning," she continues. "Can you believe it's only been twelve hours since you entered my home." She steps into my site, revealing she's ditched her Dragon lady, dominatrix get up, from before, in favor of a golden strapless dress, and yellow heels. "My mistake was, that you still see me as Cybil, the girl you met this morning," she reasons with her perceived failing. "Not as Mistress Claw. This should change that." She produces a blue smart phone, and I can take a guess who it belongs to. Me. "I took the liberty of entering your home, taking your phone, and texting your friend, this Melissa Gerard, and saying you quit," Cybil starts. "I didn't need to do anything about your brother. You completely wrecked that yourself." "But oh, I'm not done. You see tonight, I'm going to show you how helpless you are. Tonight, in just a half hour, I'm having a party. For you, you'd think this is your chance to escape. That someone will cut the blonde haired punk free. But the thing is, even if I didn't gag you, this room is soundproof. You could scream your head off, and no one would hear a thing," she elaborates. Walking up and pulling my shag cut hair back. "Then, Casey, you'll realize that your a helpless woman, at my mercy. And you'll know me as Mistress Claw." She drags a cart in front of me, from my right. It has a TV on top, and a laptop on the bottom shelf, with an HDMI cable plugged into both, connecting them. The TV is plugged into a portable battery, next to the laptop. "Through this TV, you'll see six security cameras, the two down hear, and four upstairs," she continues. "You'll see how many people walk by the door down here, which has an added layer of secrecy to it, which I just love. Oh, and just to make you angry..." She produces a role of some kind of white wrap? She peels off a strip, steps in closer, and places it over my gagged mouth, wrapping it around my head. As if I wasn't quiet enough. Ripping it off, and smearing the end of it at the side of my head. "Now excuse me," she says "I have to go pretend to get drunk, and talk to people I don't even know, or care to know. Keep your eye on camera four as I walk out." She walks away, and as she steps past the TV her point finger presses against the side, turning it on. I see her home, at least where the cameras have been set up. And I see her walk out of the doorway, and she pulls the door in. Next to the doorway is a book case. And when she places her hand on it, she looks into the camera, and smiles. Cybil slides the book cases in front of the door, and I notice a false wall panel is part of the back of the case, and fits the size of the door. She pushes the case back, and I hear it click into place, like it locked I. "Fmm mm," I say. I might be screwed. For hours I watch people drink and laugh. They don't know that the lady who's hosting this party has a woman trussed up, and suspended from a ceiling. Every time someone walks into view of camera four, as a drunk idiot leans against the bookshelf, or a guy chats up a girl next to it, I scream into my gag. "MMMMMMPH...PMMMPH HMMM MM," I moan, as loudly as I can, into the gag. No one hears me. They're to busy chatting, or maybe this room is sound proof. Maybe no one can hear me. I'd sleep, but who could sleep like this? I look at my options, and this time I can't even rock forward. The ropes keep me in place. Most I can do is twist and spin. If I had a free extremity, I'd use that laptop of hers and....do the police take email? Do they respond to emergency emails? They totally should. The point is I can't move, and my arms and legs hurt. I twist my shoulders forward. I try to pull something loose, but I'd probably pull out shoulder before...I... That could work. If I dislocate a shoulder, I could slip my arm free. Maybe. Or I'd make things worse, but I don't think I have much of a choice. She isn't going to let me go unless I die. Mistress Claw isn't going to let me go. Oh god, she actually got me to call her that. I try to pop it. I do. But I don't think I can. I feel like both my arms are going to snap, but there's not a lot of slack do to her rope work. I don't understand. I see people leaving, going out thethe front door, that Camera One is positioned above of it. They're leaving. They're gone. For probably six hours I watched the drink and part, and I saw Cybil socialize, and just swish around a wine glass, that she never got refilled. She never took a sip. I see her unlock the bookcase from the wall, the fake panel sliding along with it. I notice she's carrying a riding crop again. I hear her footsteps, as she stomps on the stairs, and I see her come in from the right. She slaps me across the face with the crop, right above my gag. "This is part of your treatment, " she tells me. "This is what you'll have. Hope ripped from you. Everyday for the next week, I have deliveries coming in. Everyday you'll hear that doorbell ring, and know there's someone outside who can help you. And they don't know you're here. They can't hear you. This is what you deserve, bitch." She places the crop under my chin, adjusting the position of my head. My eyes meet her, and I just stare at her, defiantly. Cybil turns away from me, disappointed and pissed, and says, "Good night, Casey Butler. Hope you enjoyed your first day. Lights off." The lights in the room flick off, and I hear her walk up the stairs, and I'm alone again. The only source of light I have is the TV, but then the battery dies, and the TV along with it. And I think I might just cry. "This is what you might call a session," Cybil says. "I've replaced your bindings, Casey, to ease you into this, but know this will be intense." My arms have been placed into into a tight, black leather sheath. It encompasses my finger tips, up to above me elbows. It's tight, and keeps them together. It's sealed with a zipper and lacing. Shoulder straps run across my chest. A Y-shaped yoke runs up the back, forking over my shoulders, and runs under my armpits; with a chain running up the back from the Y-shaped yoke to a collar around my neck. This thing, this arm binder as she calls it, pulls my shoulder back. There's a ring on the end where my finger tips are. From there, nylon rope is tied to it, to a suspender on the rafters. There's a spreader bar keeping my legs apart. And I'm in heels. She put me in high heels. Because this lady is crazy. I Must've been drugged at some point while I slept, because I didn't come around until she was locking in the spreader bar. "GMMMMPH PLFFHH....mmmph," I mule through the newly applied ball gag. It's wedged in pretty tight, and tightly fastened around my head. "Sensory deprivation can be scary, yes, but it might get me the desired result with you, Casey," Cybil starts. She's carrying a..oh god..a gimp mask. And some ear plugs. "This is necessary. Trust me Casey. You'll be better for this. At least better for me to manage." I try to turn my head away, to vainly keep my ears unplugged, and head unhooded. But she twists my head, and I try to break her grip, but she's already gotten a black rubber plug in my left ear. And as she's about to put the next one in my right ear, she whispers, "I'm turning down the temperature in here. It will be sixty degrees. Chilly. If you don't escape today, you'll spend the rest of the day, until the morning, like this." She shoves it into my ear, and everything goes quiet. I try to twist my head, but she's drapes the mask over my face, and zips it closed. It's dark, and hard to breath. If I struggle too much, I risk suffocation, I think. I probably say something like, "lmmmph m gammm yn bmmm," which translates from gag speak into "Let me go you bitch." I try to shake loose, but I already know I'm not budging. I have to be careful with how I move, or I risk making this worse. I might be able to pull free, if I could walk, but the spread bar, and the rope pulling my arms up, keeping me bent over, makes that impossible. This right here, escaping, it's impossible. Then I feel sharp slaps, hitting wherever. Probably "The mistress" and her riding crop. It hurts. And being half naked, in a room that's getting pretty cold is worse. At some point, I passed out. She stopped after what felt like eternity and left me alone. But she's always watching, even when she's not in the room, she's watching. I think she left. I can see or hear anything, and it's hard to keep my breathing in check. All I have are my thoughts, and regrets. I regret being a bad friend, and a bad sister. And I think I might die down here. I Struggled as much as I could, but nothing gave. Even after waking up, I don't have a clue on what to do. And I'm so damn thirsty. Then something gives. I feel like I got more slack. I must've torn the arm binders where the ring is. I can slip my fingers through what feels like a hole. It's still so tight, but it's something. I flex my fingers, trying to work something loose, or give them or my hands slack. I jump forward, hoping, I don't lose my balance, and instead pull the ring off. And I do. The rope doesn't tug at me, and a few of my fingers peek through a hole in the binder. I almost lose my balance, due to the heels, but I'm able to correct myself before I face plant. And from there, I hop. Slightly. Just enough. I've had enough time to survey the room before, and the one thing I can use, are the stairs. The bottom step at least. I know where to go. I see it in my head. I get close nowhere it is, and and press up against the wall near the steps. Sliding down, I lay my head to the side, and roll over twice. The hood has a zipper, and I can press down on the edge of the step, undoing it, or at least tearing it. The zipper moves with the first try. I shake my and I don't stop until it comes off. I see my blonde hair is soaked in sweat as the hood falls to the ground. I stop to catch my breath, feeling like I finally made some headway. A black boot lands next my face, and I realize stopping was a mistake. I didn't hear her coming. I see Cybil, sporting her Dragon printed dress, and domino mask, and leather boots and gloves. I see her mouth the words, "Good Job, Casey." Shouldn't have stopped. "I have good news for me, and bad news for you," Cybil starts. "The good news is: I know you can escape now. And I must say, watching you escape was amazing. But the bad news is: I know you can escape. I have to ensure your never allowed complete freedom of movement." My mouth hasn't been free for at least a day. My throat is raw. "Let me loose, so I can kick your ass!" I scream. "You rotten bitch!" She has me hog tied and suspended, again. She used the nylons ropes, but somehow cinched the knots tighter than before. My calves are pressed against my thighs, my arms are mummy crossed behind my back, and more rope is used to link them together, and hang me from a suspension point, or two. This time my hair is tied back, with Nylon rope, and tied to my big toes. And again, it hurts. "After I fed you, and allowed you to bathe, which I even turned the camera's off for, you try to threaten me? Insult me?" She fakes being offended. "Worse has been said. I've done worse to those who've said worse. But, I think you've lost your speaking privileges." "Get the Hell away. Ge-- gammmph!" My protest falls on deaf ears. She produced a gray rag, and shoved it into my mouth. Taking a nylon cord, she wraps it around my mouth, over and over again, knotting it in the front. "NMMMPH!" "That's better," she tells me. "I think you'll be here for some time. No one's looking for you. I keep my ear to the ground for missing persons reports, and no one's even mentioned you. Your fit, defiant, determined, and unwanted. My ideal specimen." She pushes me back, and my body rocks back and forth. I need to get out of here.