OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD

I have little respect for people who leave a downstairs window open. Especially when said window is accessible from a well-secluded corner of many acres of garden, and leads into a poorly lit (yet very inviting) pantry. A quick check to make sure that no groundskeepers or gardeners have wandered close, and I slip inside, silent as a cat. Quieter than a mouse. I pause for a second - I prefer the comparison to a cat. I'm certainly dressed for it - my black lycra catsuit covers me from top to toe, from the hood that hides my features to the running shoes that soften my footfalls.

I congratulate myself on deciding to move to the countryside - the pickings for an experienced burglar are definitely richer than in the biggest of cities. Plenty of wealthy weirdoes with huge houses and no security. I smile a secret smile to myself as I glide across the floor to the only door, wondering what amazing treasures I will find in this mansion. I grip the door handle in a gloved hand and turn it, softly, slowly... and am both surprised and disappointed when I find it locked. I am even more surprised and disappointed when I hear a sudden turning of cogs and rattling of chains from above, and I turn just in time to see iron bars drop from the ceiling to block the window.

"What the &%£$ is going on?" I ask, trying to quell the panic rising inside me.

I try the door handle again, this time pulling harder. It's only now that I notice that the wooden door is reinforced with steel... I return to the window, but the bars are too close together to squeeze between and too thick to even contemplate bending. I cross between the window and the door, and back, and forth, and back again, not believing that I've been trapped so easily and so simply.

"Damn!"

I sit on the floor in the middle of the pantry, my legs crossed, my arms folded under my breasts, and curse silently to myself. What sort of person creates a room for the sole purpose of trapping burglars? I glance up at the shelves - all empty. How could I have been fooled so easily? And what will happen to me when the owner returns? A spell in prison, no doubt. I curse again, get to my feet and kick the door. Why did I have to move to the countryside? It was so much simpler in the big city... no bizarre traps, just simple breaking, entering, looting and leaving. No fuss, no worry.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

And then my thoughts turn to news stories I've heard, about burglars in the countryside being shown a special form of rough justice. I like to think I have a silver tongue, but I don't know how eloquent I'd be staring down the both barrels of a shotgun. I shudder, and try to put such thoughts from my mind. It's then that I hear a sound from the other side of the door.

"Hello?" I ask, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Sounds like I've caught a little rabbit in the trap I set," comes a strong, male voice.

"I was just passing and..." I begin, hoping to construct a feasible excuse.

"You lost your way and broke into my house to ask for directions?"

"Yes," I try, knowing he's not going to be convinced so easily but having little choice.

A panel in the door slides back and a pair of dark blue eyes stare into the room.

"Dressed like that?" he asks.

I take off my hood, revealing my face and my short bob of red hair - I smile, warmly, cutely.

"I'm on my way to a fancy-dress party."

"Well, you've found it."

"I have?"

"I have a proposition for you."

"I'm listening," I replied, making sure my eyes never left his, and the smile never left my full lips.

"We both know that you're a burglar, and that I have every right to turn you over to the police. But I don't think we need to bother those hard-working souls for such a trifling matter. The master is hosting a party here tonight, and I'm short of staff. If you'll stick around and serve drinks to the guests, I'll see if I can forget about how you came to be in my master's home."

"You'd let me go free?"

"Naturally, I'd take a few precautions to stop you disappearing into the night at the first opportunity - you're mine until midnight. And I'll find you something much more suitable to wear. What do you think?"

The idea of playing obedient servant to this rich nob fills me with disgust, but it is only until midnight... and I might still find the opportunity to escape early anyway. An evening of servitude has got to be better than years in prison.

"Okay," I grin, "I'm yours until midnight."

He returns my grin and slides the door panel shut. I hope the sexual undertones will serve to distract him and give me an advantage later in the evening. I'm very proud of my slim and lithe but shapely body, and make every opportunity to use my looks to my advantage. It's hardly my fault that the most intelligent of men are reduced to bumbling fools in my presence.

A few minutes later, and the panel slides back. He passes through a small pile of clothing and shuts the panel again. I look at the clothes dubiously, and a shadow of a doubt creeps silently into the back of my mind. When he said serving drinks, I'd imagined the uniform would be... well... plain. Boring. Not black leather. Still, if it served to distract him and the other male guests, I might even pocket some tips. Shrugging, I quickly disrobe - he was thoughtful enough to even bring me underwear, so I swiftly get naked, wondering briefly if he has a hidden camera pointed at me. I look around the room, but the shadowy corners are very dark and I know for a fact that the smallest spy-cameras are essentially undetectable.

First on is a black leather thong - it's tight, but very comfortable, and fits very snugly against my flesh. The next item is a black leather body - the high-cut hips make me raise my eyebrows and shake my head, but I still climb into it. The zip at the front goes from where my pubic hair would be if I wasn't shaved, all the way up to my neck. As the zip travels upwards, it draws my 34C breasts close together and squeezes them... trapped in deliciously skin-tight leather. I'm beginning to get quite excited - some might say that it was the tight outfits that led me to a career in burglary in the first place! Next on is a pair of leather boots - uncomfortably high heels, but I think I'll be able to cope as long as I'm not on my feet all night. They are complemented by a pair of black opera gloves. The last item of clothing is the strangest of all - a cross between a belt and a corset, it sits above my hips and squeezes my waist to form a perfect hourglass, but that's not all: above each hip hangs a single metal cuff (half a pair of handcuffs each side of my waist). I realise that this is how my captor intends to keep me from escaping.

"Are you dressed?" comes his voice from behind the door.

"Yes," I reply, wondering if his question was redundant, wondering if he had been watching me on a monitor.

The panel slides open and he looks me up and down, slowly. I suddenly feel self-conscious in this skimpy, sexy, fetish outfit and cover myself as best I can, turning away... but it is to no avail. His gaze lingers on my breasts trapped inside the tight leather, my bare buttocks which border the thong at the rear, and my long legs enhanced by the stiletto heels and the high-cut hips. He nods, approvingly, until his eyes fall on the belt at my waist.

"You haven't finished dressing," he says, indicating the cuffs.

"You don't really think that I need to..."

"Yes. Or the deal's off. I can't have you free to roam."

"Okay," I say, meekly - anyway, I have a friend who lives nearby who could pick the locks in seconds.

I put my right hand inside the cuff above my right hip and close it with my left hand, hearing and feeling it ratchet shut, trapping me. I then put my left hand inside the cuff above my left hip and use a shelf to push it closed. The instant the handcuff ratchets closed, I hear a bolt being drawn back from the other side of the door.

The door opens and I blink in the light as I see my captor for the first time. Tall, middle-aged, quite handsome, dressed as a butler. The smile drops from my face as I see the collection of chains and other items in his hand.

"Hey!" is all I manage to exclaim before he pushes a black ballgag into my mouth and fastens it tightly behind my head. I pull at the bonds keeping my hands by my sides, but he reaches down and tightens them, ensuring my bondage. I lash out with a stiletto heel, but he anticipates my move and steps out of the way - I'm furious now, angry with myself for being so easily caught, angry at him for taking such liberties with me... but every time I try to hit him, he out-manoeuvres me. And seeing him dancing around me makes me even more angry.

He grabs my shoulders and pushes me down onto the floor.

"If you kick any of the guests, I'll chain your legs together. Now, do you promise to behave?"

I nod, chastised, but my anger is still bubbling under the surface. I don't resist as he pulls me back up to my feet.

"Now, to protect your identity - we don't want the guests to be able to identify you, do we?"

He pulls a tight black leather hood over my head - it covers my head completely, leaving just my nose and green eyes visible. The next item he puts on me is a wide collar, which prevents the hood from being removed and keeps me looking straight ahead. He walks around me, smiling at his handiwork - all I can do is stand there, mmmmphing softly into the gag, feeling somewhat on display for his viewing pleasure. He tugs the zip downwards slightly, until it sits between my breasts, revealing a tantalising glimpse of bound cleavage. Stepping behind me, he slowly pulls my elbows together behind my back - I have to stand straighter to compensate, and it's too much for the zip - it moves southwards on its own, only stopping once it has passed my straining breasts, revealing more of me than I'd otherwise be comfortable with... if I had a choice. He uses a short length of chain and a padlock to keep my elbows together behind my back, and then steps back.

"I don't need you just yet," he smiles, closing the door behind him, "I'll come fetch you later. Enjoy."

My expletives are muffled by the gag and hood. I'm left standing there, walking around the room, testing my bonds... my elbows drawn tight behind my back, my wrists firmly attached to my sides. I can only move my hands a very small distance - my fingers can reach down to the top of my hips, but that's the limit of their movement. Even though my legs are free, I know I'm completely helpless - any attempt to escape would be futile. Still, that wouldn't stop me taking the opportunity if I was presented with it...

It feels like hours have passed before I hear the distinctive sound of the door panel being opened again. My captor glances in again, looking me up and down once again - I can do nothing to cover myself this time. The collar prevents me from looking down, but the cool air tells me how much chest I'm displaying... I strain against my bonds to reach up to the zip, but my searching fingers get nowhere near.

The door opens - without a word, he reaches in and pulls me out into the hallway beyond. I can do nothing to stop him leading me away - in fact, all my effort goes to prevent myself from falling over in my high heels, with my visibility of the floor restricted by the collar. I lose track of the many corridors and rooms, but eventually the journey ends in the kitchen, where I am very surprised to see a number of other girls, dressed in identical clothes, sporting identical bondage.

"The guests are arriving," smiles the captor, "why don't you girls get acquainted?"

He leaves, again, and despite the leather hood I can hear the sounds of cars outside and people talking. The other girls don't move a muscle, except to let their eyes scan over my helpless body. Apart from the differing heights and cup sizes, we look pretty much identical. I find myself wondering two things: are they captives like myself or here voluntarily, and how on earth are we meant to serve drinks?

Just then, the swinging double doors at the front of the kitchen open (briefly revealing a large ballroom) and a young, smartly-dressed man enters. He walks straight to me, a smile on his lips which reminds me of the older man's.

"I'm Wesley," he says, "the man of the house. You must be our new waitress. I trust that Jeeves has informed you of the situation. I'd shake your hand, only..."

His voice trails off as he looks me up and down. So, this is the man in charge. If I could convince him to let me go... I smile despite the gag. I know he can't see my lips, but I can feel my eyes light up - a little seduction can go a long way.

"You're going to fit in perfectly," he grins, slapping my left buttock lightly as he leaves.

With nothing better to do, I stand in line with the other girls and wait until we're called upon. We don't have to wait long. My captor, the butler, soon returns and ushers us into the ballroom - it is now filled with smartly-dressed men and elegantly-gowned women, talking and dancing and mingling. It's soon clear that my job is to wander around the room, a glass of champagne in each hand (collected from one of the bars at the edge of the room) and delivering said glasses to any guests that need them. An easy job, one might think, despite the number of times I find my bottom slapped 'playfully' by the guests. It's fun at first, but soon I'm fuming into the gag and dying to stamp on someone's foot with one of my stiletto heels. But I know that such behaviour will work against me, so I bite the gag between my teeth and bear the humiliation. I soon realise that I badly need a break.

Spotting an open door partially obscured by a winding staircase, I look around quickly to check that no-one is watching and slip through. Out of the hustle and bustle of the ballroom, I take a moment to relax - the bondage is getting really uncomfortable, and I long to have my hands freed and the gag removed. The leather is getting hot, too, and it seems to be getting tighter. Turning a corner, I am met with a very refreshing cool breeze - I follow it to its source, and find an open window. My mind turns to escape... a brisk walk through the night air to my friend's house, then freedom. Without a second thought, I line myself up with the window and lift my right leg over the sill, moaning softly as the cold air plays over my bare flesh, moaning even more as I straddle the windowsill - I hadn't realised how aroused I was by the whole situation.

"And what have we here?" comes the butler's voice from behind me.

"Mmmmmph?!?"

"I thought we had a deal, young lady," he says, dragging me back into the house.

I turn to face him, and notice that he's looking slightly disheveled. Thinking about it, his words were a little slurred - he's drunk.

"You need to be punished!" he announces, reaching into his pocket.

I turn to run - despite his intoxication, he still manages to grab me and hold me tight. My struggles against his strong grip are in vain. Effortlessly, he pulls the zip on the front of my leather outfit down as far as it goes, and pulls the sides apart, revealing my naked breasts. My nipples are hard, partly from my arousal, partly from the cold breeze from the open window. He leers at me, drunkenly, but his lack of co-ordination doesn't stop him from attaching a pair of clover clamps to my nipples...

"I like you," he continues, ignoring my now frantic struggles, "that's why you're going to sleep with me tonight."

The words barely register as I continue to writhe, trying to move my hands from my side to my poor breasts, but I can't even reach the chain dangling between them. He can, though, and he uses the chain to lead me back to the ballroom - I have no choice but to follow, since the slightest tug sends bolts of pain through my breasts... He leaves me next to a bar, intending for me to continue to serve drinks - but with those vicious clamps attached to my nipples, I can barely concentrate. I just stand there, pulling at my bonds, looking with pleading eyes at any guests who stop to look at me... but none of them help me.

I'm aware that I'm putting on quite a show, and attracting quite an audience. They talk to each other, eyes not leaving me as I struggle, all sipping from their champagne glasses. I moan loudly into the gag, staggering, helpless, exposed... It's then that I see Wesley, the man of the house, pushing through the crowd. He stands before me and I stop struggling - he tuts, and grabs the chain between my nipples. I can't help but whimper with pain as he leads me away from the crowd and upstairs...

"I had to get you away from that crowd," he smiles, once we're in the privacy of his bedroom.

I reply with a moan, and indicate downwards with my eyes. His eyes go down to my bared breasts, and the clover clamps still biting my nipples.

"What has Jeeves done with you?" he asks, tutting again - I scream into the gag a moment after he removes the clamps, and press myself against him, my poor nipples against his chest, trying to relieve the pain.

He doesn't speak - he just removes the collar from around my neck, the hood from my head and the gag from my lips. I smile, at last, working my jaw, so relieved to have at least some of my bonds removed.

"Thanks," I say, softly, "those clamps were so painful."

"I think Jeeves overstepped his mark this time," Wesley replies, holding me close.

I respond by gripping his shirt with my fingers, as best I can, and nuzzling my face into his neck. Maybe he is my ticket out of here. Maybe if I seduce him...

"Don't punish him, he was only doing his job," I murmur, "and, anyway, it's resulted in me feeling really horny."

"Oh yes?"

"Oh yes," I purr, my nuzzles turning into soft kisses.

"I have guests to entertain. I can't stay here with you."

"But..."

"Here," he says, pushing me onto the bed, crossing to a drawer, pulling out a vibrator, turning it on and tossing it to me, "knock yourself out."

As he leaves the room, I stare down at the buzzing toy in front of me. It's not going to help me escape... but... I am feeling quite horny... I approach it, trying to work out how best to use it. If I grip it in my hands, I can't reach anywhere too stimulating with it... I can't grip it with my boots to position it either. My only solution is to sit on it, and hope that the vibrations are strong enough to stimulate me sufficiently through two layers of leather...

I groan, frustrated by the lack of sensation from the device, and lay on my front, trying to position my sensitive areas over the vibrator while pushing my breasts into the bed, wriggling and squirming to no avail. Nowhere near release, and nowhere near release... Frustrated, I sit on the edge of the bed. It's time to escape.

My first obstacle is the door. It isn't locked, but it still takes me a few attempts to grip the handle with a bound hand and turn it. Once out in the corridor, I navigate my way towards the back of the house and a servants stairway down to the ground floor. Then, it's simply a case of finding that open window again and slipping out quickly... I'm quite surprised and very relieved to not meet anyone on the way.

Once in the garden, it's a quick run to the wall, where I kick a small gate open to achieve my (relative) freedom. Then, a dash across the fields in the rough direction of my friend's house... wearing a supersexy leather outfit, my elbows and wrists securely bound, my naked breasts jiggling in front of me as I move, utterly vulnerable prey to any undesirables who happen to be wandering around the countryside so late at night. I begin to question myself, wondering if this plan is such a good idea... My questions are soon answered.

But that's another story.