Gift of Knowledge

Throughout my time working with and observing Katalina Star, I had had precious little interaction with her wife, Zoey.  What few times I had met her, I found her to be incredibly pleasant and very sweet in demeanor.  I had discerned through conversation and observation that Mistress Katalina had, for lack of a better term, given herself to Zoey… though it was obvious that they shared power and control and were much happier for it, having achieved a beautiful balance.  But personally, I had never spent much time one-on-one with Mistress Zahara, as most everyone around the Dungeon referred to her, leading to me adopting the name as well, which naturally left me curious.  However, as I was milling around the Dungeon during a bit of off-time, she made a visit.  Despite knowing her only peripherally, I could tell by her poise and expression that she was here with a purpose.  Upon seeing me, she smiled brightly and offered a greeting, which I returned in kind.  Have you ever heard of an infectious smile?  Mistress Zahara has one of those.  She brings the happiness out of you, willingly or otherwise.

“Good afternoon, Ruby.  Taking a little time to explore?”

“Hello, Mistress Zahara.  And yes, I am,” I responded with a kind smile, one which seemed to make hers brighter if that were possible.  “Mistress Katalina had no duties that required doing today, so I am letting my body and mind wander.”

Infectious smile, extremely pleasant demeanor… and otherworldly charm.  It was hard for me to believe that this young woman was dealing with such serious situations as to require her to take sessions with a psychologist.  But that’s not a story that I have a right to tell.  Mistress Zahara gestured invitingly and without thinking I fell into step next to her but two paces behind.

“That can be nice sometimes.  You don’t always need a destination… just a road to walk and a mind open enough to enjoy the journey,” she said sagely, glancing over her shoulder toward me.  “If you would like, you may accompany me.  I’ve been struck by a bolt of inspiration today.”

“Inspiration, Mistress Zahara?  To what end?”

“A type of restriction that I am going to attempt on Katalina.”

Now she had my attention… and irrevocably so.  It was very rare to see the other side of Mistress Katalina, the side that gave in to the power of another.

“I humbly accept your invitation, Mistress Zahara.”

One thing I knew was that Zoey often preferred to keep things informal, either at home or in the Dungeon.  Though she was obviously a Mistress, albeit one still in the process of learning, calling her out as such tended to make her blush and, through a smile, remind the speaker that they need not address her so formally.  But today?  She accepted the sobriquet with grace.  That alone told me plenty.  She did not correct me, but merely nodded and turned her eyes forward.  Several doors we passed before she stopped at one and produced a key to unlock it.

The interior of the room was sparse and of medium size.  Two tables had been set up side-by-side and there was an old trunk up against the far wall situated between the tables.  Beyond this there was little to speak of aside from the lights and ceiling fan above, the requisite cabinets, shelves and bed… and the general feeling of mystery.  I am convinced that a person could explore this place for two weeks straight and not discover all of its secrets.  As we enter, a song softly began to spill from the lips of Mistress Zahara.  She sweeps about the room gracefully, checking that all of the details and arrangements are to her liking as I watch, standing aside from the half-open door.  I queried her once as to why she always sang in Italian as opposed to English and her response was she didn’t care for her singing voice but “almost anything said or sung in Italian or French is beautiful by default”.  Listening to her soft tones and not understanding a single word of her lyrics, I could not have argued.

Watching as she moved to the trunk, I took a few steps forward as Mistress Zahara produced a key and opened it, the lid’s opening bringing about a pleasant creaking sound… more treasure chest than old trunk.  I am not entirely sure what I expected to see her take from within, but a large collection of stockings and nylon tights was not it.  She took out handful after handful, placing them on a small cart next to the trunk.  The ropes and other bondage implements that followed?  Those made more sense to me.  The legwear?  Not as much.  I went back and forth on questioning her motives, but before I could voice a query she caught sight of my stare and rose with a smile.

“Encasement, Ruby,” she said simply, as if that one word explained it all.

“Encasement?  Forgive me, Mistress Zahara, but I am still rather inexperienced in the lifestyle.  What exactly do you mean?”

“I think… it would be better if you simply observed,” she replied.  Then her eyes averted toward the door and her smile grew another size.  “Hello, sweetling.”

I turned as well, of course, and saw Mistress Katalina standing in the doorway.  Turning smoothly, I bowed to her and she nodded and smiled in return.  She had come dressed as I was used to seeing her here; a smart skirt and blouse, stockings and heels, all in black except for the blouse.  It was hard not to be in awe of this beautiful, powerful woman, something that extended to Mistress Zahara during these moments when Mistress Katalina became simply… Kat.  Or sweetling.  Mistress Zahara told me later that she was a Game of Thrones fan and loved that little nickname despite her utter disdain for the woman who used it most often.

“Hello, love.  And hello, Ruby.  Are you assisting Mistress Zahara for this?”

For a moment, I thought I detected eagerness in her eyes.  It made my insides quiver nicely, almost to a point where I forgot to answer.

“No, Mistress Katalina.  I am just watching at the invitation of Mistress Zahara.”

“Well, I am certain that you will enjoy yourself regardless.”

Katalina walked forward, each step clicking, each motion of her legs causing a soft swishing sound as silk rubbed against silk.  Mistress Zahara took Katalina into her arms and kissed her deeply, enough that I myself blushed heavily.  This was the kind of love that most of the world yearned for but seldom found, yet these two women had it in spades.  When they parted, Mistress Zahara gestured to the left-hand table and took on a firmer tone than I had yet heard from her.

“Ruby, please close and lock the door.  Sweetling, strip out of your top, skirt and shoes, then lie down on the table.”

My haste to comply was attributed to much more than an order from a Mistress; I was eager, to excess I now know, to see what this ‘encasement’ was all about.  Katalina followed her instructions with grace, folding and putting her clothing on one of the empty shelves along with her polished heels.  Lying on the table, she took a few slow breaths and began to relax.  Mistress Zahara, bringing over a small handful of the nylons from the cart, walked to the foot of the table.  As I watched, she pulled several pairs up Katalina’s legs, molding them together under several smooth, opaque layers.  Katalina kept her calm as far as I could tell, though a tinge of pink rose in her chest and cheeks.  By the time Mistress Zahara had finished the beginning of her efforts, Katalina was covered from belly button to toes, using the time between Mistress Zahara’s departure to replenish and her return to test the layers, finding her lower half mostly immobile.

When Mistress Zahara returned, I knew what was to follow… just not the how.  She began with Katalina’s arms, then the whole of her torso.  I realize now that a fair amount of the nylons stored in that trunk were modified already; opened up and sewn back into place to suit Mistress Zahara’s needs.  After her second bout of encasing had finished, all that remained exposed of Katalina was her head.  She squirmed further, giving the layers a proper test but found no purchase.  The tingly feeling within me began to grow at this, a combination of desire and curiosity… and knowing what had to be coming.  Before encasing Katalina’s head, Mistress Zahara pushed a spare stocking into her mouth.  She then hooded the woman under several layers as she had done with the rest of her, some of these extending past her shoulders.  Only at this point did Mistress Zahara turn to me and note my intense interest.  Yet she said but two words.

“Almost done.”

What more could she do, I wondered to myself.  That ‘more’ came in the form of a roll of duct tape.  Once more remanding herself to the foot of the table, Mistress Zahara proceeded to bind Katalina.  At the ankles, above and below her knees, around her waist and hands, above and below her chest and upper arms and twice around her head, at eye and mouth level.  She then leans down, whispering into Katalina’s ear.  I did not hear what was said, but Katalina moaned softly (later I realized that that was about as loud as she could get at that point) and began to squirm atop the table.  The multiple layers combined with the tape, though, had her impossibly stuck.  Mistress Zahara admired her work, caressing the struggling figure from head to toe with certain spots getting more reaction than others.  Especially the toes and soles, which Mistress Zahara took quite a bit of joy in tormenting as evidenced by the muffled giggles from Katalina.

Suffice to say I was enthralled.  Part of me wanted to do what Mistress Zahara was doing… to touch Katalina, to feel her squirm and react to my hands.  The other, naturally, wanted to experience her position for myself.  And, yet again, Mistress Zahara caught wind of my stare and most of the meaning behind it.  I did not realize this until she was next to me, her hand softly on my shoulder.  I squeaked, jumping a bit in surprise.

“I-I’m sorry!  I was just… um… thinking!”

“I know, Ruby,” was her response.  Her hand stayed, but her attention strayed to the nylon doll (a term I learned later) shifting about on the table.  “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She… truly is.  I apologize for my bluntness, but the sight is having an effect on me in ways I am uncertain about.  Like… I’m curious about both sides.  Does that make sense?”

“A lot of sense.  Come.”

At once she took me by the wrist, not the hand, and led me to the table.  Still in control of my appendage, she put it on Katalina’s encased body.  Almost immediately the woman let out another soft moan.  Mistress Zahara guided my hand for a moment, bringing it over the curves of Katalina’s chest and along her strong, toned legs.  The percolating warmth in me began to quicken to another level and before I knew it, Mistress Zahara had let go and I was touching Katalina of my own accord.  It felt heavenly… and my decision was made for me.

“Mistress Zahara, may I request that you do this to me?”

Having not looked her right in the eye before, the mild, yet pleasant, shock of staring into her golden eyes caught me by surprise.  To my relief, she smiled kindly and nodded.

“As Katalina did, love, strip down.  Jeans, shirt, shoes, socks… and lie down on the other table.”

It dawned on me then: why two tables, I had thought in the beginning?  Did Mistress Zahara anticipate this?  Was she expecting this?  Did she read my mind?  Was she a living, breathing magician and not just someone who did tricks on a stage?  Yes, I became very stream-of-consciousness for a moment, an effect I was quickly learning to attribute to Mistress Zahara.  I do not quite remember the process of stripping down, of folding and putting aside my clothes and lying on the table.  But the encasement process… that I remember most vividly.  It felt like… like… the embrace of a cherished lover.  Like being wrapped up under the quilts on a cold day, in a warm cocoon where nothing can hurt you and where the world just goes away.  I slipped into a trance-like state more than once, only coming out of them when Mistress Zahara voiced a gentle command.

And then?  Then the world went away.  And I could not have been happier.  That is, until her hands found their way to my body.  I am certain, somehow, that Katalina could hear my own noises of satisfaction, for she made the same sounds despite my knowing that both of Mistress Zahara’s hands were on me in those moments.  The tables were in close enough proximity, however, that she was able to put a hand on each of us at the same time.  And how we sang in muffled pleasure at that!  Mistress Zahara’s voice cut in after a few minutes of this all-encompassing bliss…

“Now, my loves… your Mistress has a few small errands to attend to.  I will inform one of the maids to check on you and I have the cameras in here linked to my phone, so I will likewise be able to look in.”

Hearing Katalina whimper softly, no doubt at the fact that Mistress Zahara would be gone for any length of time, brought a similar sound from me.  I did not want her to go.  I wanted her to stay, to keep running her hand over my encased body.  But it wasn’t our choice to make.

“I will not be absent long.  Much as you both of you are certain to be feeling, I do not want us apart very long.  Certainly not while two lovely nylon dolls are in need of my attention.”

She could not have gotten a more spirited reaction had she touched us with her hands.  Instead, she touched our hearts with her words.

“Squirm happily, pets.”

And just like that, she was gone.  The thing about encasement and most forms of bondage where the senses are hindered or utterly blocked is that time moves in a whole different manner.  Left with our thoughts alone, it sometimes felt as though it were crawling.  Then it sprinted like an Olympic runner.  Communication obviously wasn’t possible but when one of us would make a sound, be it moan or whimper, the other would respond without thinking.  The thought of Katalina, barely three feet away… the sight of her as a nylon doll overloaded my senses and I am fairly certain that my body reacted to that in the midst of one of my short trances.  I wished more than once that I could see her and wondered if she thought the same of me.

Then… the door opened again.  And with great relief I felt Mistress Zahara’s hand on me.  Katalina must have felt the same, for we moaned aloud in perfect unison.  I could feel her smile through the layers of nylon and tape like morning sunlight.

“I missed you, too.  Now let’s get you out of this, my pets.  The day is young, after all.”

*  *  *

Less than an hour later, Katalina and I were in an all-new predicament.  In many ways this was the same as the nylon encasement, yet it was also different in several ways.  Mummification, Mistress Zahara called it.  After releasing us and putting the nylons back into the trunk, Katalina and I had time to use the facilities and drink some water, freshening ourselves for this next session.  And I am happy that I followed my instinct and did so.  The layers of hose and stockings coupled with the thick bands of tape… that was restrictive, yes, but far from overwhelming to anything other than my virgin senses, and I cannot speak for Katalina’s own thoughts on the matter.  But this mummification… it was on another level.  Not merely for the fact that we were stripped bare beforehand (except for Katalina’s stockings; Mistress Zoey, I learned, had quite the fetish for them) but for the more complete restriction.

For both of us, with Katalina going first, Zoey went through multiple rolls of tape and vet wrap, a sort of bandage that sticks only to itself.  From toes to neck she wrapped, our legs together and our arms at our sides, until she’d done one layer of each material.  Our heads came next, with only our noses exposed, mouths filled, lips sealed and eyes covered.  Wiggling was barely possible and we felt even more silenced than before.  Sadly, I also discovered that Mistress Zahara’s touch was far more faint in this position.  I could barely feel her touch running up and down my near-formless body, which brought on a stronger effort toward struggling, which added to the sensation of helplessness… and once again made my body react without direct stimulus.  My newness to all of this was showing in spades but if Mistress Zahara found any negativity in this, she showed no indication.  She was ever patient and forever kind.

“Now… I know the both of you are finding this more extreme than the nylon, but that is to be expected.  I can also tell,” she continued, doing something to Katalina that I obviously could not see but could certainly hear the effects of, “that the two of you are yearning for some kind of stimulation.  My touch won’t be enough here, loves, I am sorry to say.  However…”

She trails off, leaving us curious.  That curiosity is sated swiftly; with a pair of safety scissors, Mistress Zahara cuts triangle-shaped holes that are, shall we say, strategically-placed, in our layers.  The rush of air, cool at first, over that bared flesh makes me tremble and it is fair to assume it did the same for Katalina.  Mistress Zahara departs again, sifting through the trunk again, perhaps, and returning in due course.  Something smooth and round is pressed against our exposed flesh and we hear a soft click before the most pleasant buzzing and vibrations commence.  I am certain that even the greenest of us need no explanation as to what was going on here, right?

Didn’t think so.  No need for details here, then.  The Reader’s Digest version, for the overly curious, is that Mistress Zahara made us scream (or try to) several times before she decided that we had had enough.  By the time she freed us from the mummification, it was all we could do to turn our heads and sip from glasses of ice water that Mistress Zahara provided.  Right away I noted that Katalina, despite her later admission that she had not experienced such a position in some time, still was in far better shape than me.  But do not let that make you think that I was in distress.  Far from it.  I was simply exerted to an intense level, the process of which was incredibly enjoyable.  One thing is also quite certain: I came to understand in great detail why Katalina gave herself to her wife.  Mistress Zahara was an overflowing font of love and passion, someone who could take you at your lowest and make you feel amazing.

“Ruby?”

And she caught me daydreaming again.  She in this case being Katalina.  Slowly sitting up, a pleasant ache in my whole body, I met her eyes briefly before lowering my head.  Mistress Zahara was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes, Mistress Katalina?”

“What do you think?”

“You are referring to the past,” I looked around for a moment and seeing no clock I made a guess, “few hours?”

“I am, love.  What do you think?”

That vague question… it took me a few moments to formulate an answer that was, in my mind, proper.

“It felt amazing, in a word.  Like we were not a part of the world anymore.  The stress just melted away and…”

Katalina cuts me off with a soft laugh and a shake of her head.

“I should have been more specific, I see.  What do you think of Mistress Zahara as a mistress?  You have not known her as such directly before now, isn’t that right?”

“It is, Mistress.”

“Your thoughts, then?”

“She…”

I gave it a little more thought.  Out of respect for Katalina, I did not want to gush overmuch about her wife as that might have been considered rude.  But I did not want to downplay the efforts of Mistress Zahara either.  Had to aim for some middle ground…

“...she has a gift, Mistress.  You can’t be around her and not feel happiness.  I am certain that this would be impossible.  As a Mistress, that happiness changes to passion.  Even as I stood and watched her encase you, with no outer stimulation at all, I felt almost uncontrollable desire.  I swear the woman is empathic.”

“And how did it feel to have your hands on ME while I was helpless?”

She just had to ask the hard questions!  And silly me, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

“Amazing, to put it simply.  I loved it.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

It was not that I had never seen Katalina in a relaxed, serene state.  But couple her calm with the flush of residual passion and she achieved a whole new level of beauty that I could not help but admire.  It made me smile too as well as blush something fierce.  Thinking the day over, at least for my part in it, I started to slide off the table until Katalina’s voice stopped me.

“What would you say to a little more fun, Ruby?”

“What… kind of fun do you mean, Mistress.”

“Well,” she begins, swinging her silk-clad legs back and forth which, none should be shocked to hear, immediately got my attention. “I still have some energy to spare.  And seeing as how you have enjoyed yourself so much today, as have I, what would you say to a little more time under Mistress Zahara’s power?  In… closer proximity?”

“I… I would like that, Mistress.  Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me, love,” she replies with a sweet smile.  “Thank Mistress Zahara.”

“You’re both welcome.”

We turn almost in unison to see Mistress Zahara standing there, watching us.  Had she been listening as well?  I could not bring myself to ask.  I could only smile.

*  *  *

Mistress Zahara had been putting her idea into action even as Katalina and I talked about it amongst ourselves.  Katalina stripped out of her stockings, putting on a fresh pair in purple with matching lingerie at Mistress Zahara’s instruction (she had a fondness for the color purple, but most already know that).  I, on the other hand, while expecting the same found myself surprised that what Mistress produced for me was the same in form except that it was latex.  She knew, I understood then, of my fondness for latex, often wearing it under my normal clothes with today being a rare exception.  She even produced baby powder to assist in putting it on, her tender touch most helpful.

Afterward, however, while the tender touches remained, the power and dominance of Mistress Zahara stood overall.  Katalina and I were each fitted with a silver bullet, wires conspicuously extending from within our respective panties connected to small remotes.  Mistress Zahara then produced a judicious amount of rope and, starting at our ankles, wove a comfortable yet intricate web around Katalina and I, binding us face to face.  Ankles, knees, thighs, waists, chests… our bodies touched closely in every way save for our arms which were lashed behind us not only at the wrists but at the elbows, too.  I had not thought myself flexible enough for such a position but Mistress Zahara proved me well and truly wrong.  Face to face and indeed eye to eye with Katalina, I felt very small… and very aroused.  I found myself to be both thankful and intimidated at the lack of a blindfold for this session, meaning I either had to close my eyes to this intoxicating predicament or look into the eyes of Mistress Katalina and be enthralled.  Some choice!

“Now, loves… open wide.  This time, you’re going to have to share.”

Share?  I began to ask what she meant but soon felt a smooth ball intrude on my question, fitting snugly between my teeth and lips.  Thankfully, depending on your perspective, this answered my question.  The ball had two sets of straps, not just one.  And the other half was pushed into Katalina’s waiting mouth.  Once those straps were buckled securely in place, Katalina’s lips and my own both wrapped around the intruder, gently touching.  It was a little invasive at first and my natural response was to struggle, a few slight whimpers of concern escaping me.  Then Katalina… well, she let out one of her soft, sweet moans and her own bout of squirming.  The contact between us at lips and body renewed the heat within and the concern melted away.

I would have been content right then and there, but only because I forgot about the bullets.  Mistress Zahara had not.  She activated the devices via the remotes simultaneously, causing them to buzz to life softly within us.  It was at a painfully low level, though, enough to tickle and torment, and tease madly, but not enough for either of us to achieve release without some kind of contact.  I mmmphed at Mistress Zahara questioningly, to which she responded.

“This will be a fun little game of ‘who cums first’, pets.  I know full well that neither of you can climax to a toy at that level.  Not without some helpful friction.”

She pauses, swatting each of our backsides and making us squeak in unison.  Our every struggle now rubbed us together… and therein lay the source of this sorely needed ‘friction’.

“Which, as I have just shown, you are more than capable of producing.  Now… I’m expecting a good show out of you both,” she says sternly, taking out her phone and tapping a few on-screen buttons.  She shows it to us, making it clear that the cameras are not just watching now; they are recording. “And if I don’t get one?  Well… then I’ll let the world see as I point out just where you did not make the most of the moment.  I am sure that needs no further exclamation?”

Meekly, I averted my eyes, the thought of the world seeing me like this both scaring me and arousing me in equal measure, confusing my senses.  Katalina, on the other hand, struggled hard in the ropes and worked at the gag so much as to drool around it a bit, mumbling frantically at Mistress Zahara who simply smiled and patted her head in response.  Later, she confided in me that she wasn’t all that concerned; she was playing to her Mistress’s affection for such displays.  How lucky for her; I had no way of knowing it was a ploy.

“Glad to hear it.  As with before, loves, I will return in due course to fetch you.  Remember my words: put on a good show.  Or else.”

Before she left, however, I watched as Mistress Zahara walked to Katalina and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.  Katalina’s eyes closed and she sighed beautifully before nodding to the whispered comment.  Then she came to me, stroking a hand through my hair and whispering in MY ear.

“Let go and enjoy, Ruby.  Don’t think.”

Make no mistake; I remained tense for a good quarter-hour after that.  But those words echoed in my head and soon I was able to lose myself in the moment.  And I’m glad that I did.  The closeness with Katalina, the fear of the unknown, the novelty… it conspired within me to create a massive wave of pleasure.  More than one, in fact.  I don’t know which of us came first, which one of us lost the game… and I don’t care.  It’s the first thing to come to my mind on quiet nights when the urge is too great to ignore.  Part of me hopes that Kat feels the same and imagines it herself.  Except she has her Mistress Zahara.  She no longer has to imagine.

She’s the luckiest woman alive.