FPI -- Frilly Pantied Investigator / Chapter 2

Copyright 2018 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, our protagonist wakes in the dominion of a mysterious woman, and discovers an unexpected side to his former supervisor.

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My head was throbbing when I woke. The blinding light burning through my eye sockets wasn't helping. I tried using my hand to block out the glare, which was when I realized it was bound somewhere above my head.

"Good," said a voice that slid through the air like a shark fin gliding through water. "You're both awake now."

I squinted and turned my head towards the voice, but could only make out the silhouette of a tall, curvaceous figure. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

The figure jiggled to a deep, yet unmistakably feminine chuckle. "I rarely respond to such impertinent questions from someone in your ... position."

The shadowy apparition approached, transforming into a beautiful, raven-haired woman when she stepped into the light. "Still, I consider myself a courteous hostess, so I'll make an exception. You may refer to me as Madam X, or Mistress."

She leaned closer, enveloping me in a perfume for which a thousand muskrats must had died. Her warm breath tickled my ear when she whispered, "What I want, is answers."

"Ah," I said while trying to not breathe through my nose. "That's an easy one. It's forty-two."

Confusion flitted across her expression for a moment, then a cruel grin crept into the corners her blood red lips. "So ... you want to play games?" A twinkle in her eyes made me envy any prehistoric mammals still frozen in glaciers. "I am *very* good at games."

Hearing a piteous moan to my right, I lifted my head as far as I could, then peered over my arm. My barbiturate encumbered brain could only categorize what I saw as an unusually tall little girl, who's wrists and ankles were fastened to the corners of a table by padded metal cuffs.

Reality popped back into something more familiar, if not entirely rational, when I recognized my former boss’s voice coming out of the girl's mouth. "Please," he said to the woman looming over me, "you promised not to involve anybody else!"

Madam X stood up and turned to her other captive, then said in a soft, lilting voice, "Sweetie, if you'd only been more discreet in performing your task, I would have been able to keep that promise."

"I can still do it on my own," he said as he began to tremble. A whimper crept into his voice as he added, "Honest!"

As much as I'd hated Barry for his part in getting me fired, I couldn't help appreciating him trying to talk me out of whatever he was wrapped up in, and it was hard to be mad at someone on the edge of tears. I turned to his tormentor and shouted, "What the hell are you making him do?"

There was a blur, followed by a sharp pain on my cheek. Madam X lowered her hand as she said in a cold, no-nonsense voice, "Little girls are *not* to use such language."

While considering a searing rebuttal to the "little girl" comment, I glanced down, and realized I was still wearing my dress. Deciding my sermon on the careless use of gender specific identifiers might not be on the firmest ground, I shifted tactics. "I'm sorry," I said in the meekest voice I could manage.

Cavities began forming in my molars when she switch tone and said, "Of course, sweetheart. We'll say nothing more of the slip. It's already forgotten."

I was having trouble wrapping my head around this woman. I didn't have enough first hand experience with dominatrices to really know if she fit more than my stereotypical image of one. On the other hand, I had met enough nuts in my line of work to be able to say she was a whole bagful.

"Mistress?" I asked, hoping all the practice I'd done in private made my attempt at a shy little girl voice sound sincere, if not authentic.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is it okay to ask ... why were we brought here?"

"To do what every little girl dreams of doing ..."

She held up a hand, and snapped her fingers twice. Purple blotches swam across my eyes like psychedelic jellyfish in the darkness that followed. There was the click of stiletto heels on a hardwood floor, then a moment of silence before a spotlight shone on small table.

Our hostess's voice sounded tinny, and seemed to be coming from several locations at once as she said "... having a tea party!"