Tamara - The Case Of The (corrupted) Suits (3) (Patreon)

(Damn! Where Is The Zipper? - Movimento 3)

Part 3

Tamara stared at the room that opened before her. It was almost unbelievable, what was to be found in that room. It's description could be summed up in one word, opulence. It was in total contrast to the rest of the building. Starting with the thick red carpet, the analysis of that material had left no doubt that it was made only of finest wool. So were all the other natural fabrics they had found in that room made of finest silk. In the same way, the furniture was of the noblest wood. The leather that the seats were made of was the most expensive leather and almost all the metal in the room was of a precious kind, finely polished.

The walls were completely clad in red and black velvet, even behind the shelves. There also were seven planes of glass or of another material in one color each, which were surrounding a circular platform that was in the center of the room. Strangely there were the only some items of little value. Two chains with black shackles, which seemed to be taken out of a hellish world, were hanging from the ceiling or were connected to the floor. Those shackles were black iron. A third chain also hung down from above.

In that red room, her footsteps could hardly be heard. Her breath was now coming shorter as she approached those chains where the last victim had been found imprisoned. Her gaze went through the two black shackles hanging from the ceiling and then she looked at the two connected to the chain coming from the floor. Apart from the chain that had held the wrists, there was a second one coming from the ceiling, in which a thin tube was intertwined and was itself lost in a rubber mask and neck brace.

A picture was forming in her mind as she heard the echo of the statements again. An imprisoned girl, with the aesthetic shackles imprisoning her wrists and ankles. With that mask and the attached neck corset covering her whole head, shining black from the oil. Preventing her from seeing, saying or hearing anything and being forced to stay completely stretched.

“I woke up naked, chained at the beginning of my feet and hands," the girl had said, "with a hood over my head."

Tamara couldn’t help but touch one of the shackles trying to feel something. Her fingers surrounded the black metal and the chain and curiously that metal did not feel cold. Except for that, the chain felt like a normal chain in her hand. This one reached the shackles on the floor, which she stared at, and as the technician had said, this one had an easy-to-open closure, the ones for the wrists were like this too. There was no need for a key, just the right move to push a small lever with one finger.

"If they could free themselves. . .," - She wondered aloud, intrigued by checking all the shackles, "Why didn't they. . . ? What’s that?"

The agent suddenly saw something on the ground, something that shouldn’t be there. The technicians had thoroughly examined the premises and everything that could be moved had been taken to the evidence storage room. She bent down, pulling a pen out of the inside pocket of her blazer, and with that she touched that strange thing that looked like a piece of cloth. She pricked it first, then she pulled it out from under the the cover of the anchor of the ground chain. When she lifted it up to see it better, Tamara was surprised that it was that kind of a thing.

"A thong from. . . made of that material?" she wondered, "the nano stuff?"

That garment looked like latex, and she didn’t dare touch it with her hands. As her gaze rose, she went back through the room looking. She turned on herself in case there was anything there. Her gaze ran through the room, but she found nothing else. She did a second sweep, this time even slower. Her eyes looked at everything, yet she couldn’t find anything else.

Without realizing it, while the room had been searched and examined by her, that latex garment began to deform. And as if it were a liquid with a life of its own, it slipped over the pen until it reached Tamara’s hand. There it resumed its original form. But at the same time as the fabric solidified again, that thing released something onto her skin, which entered her pores.

"What the. . . ?" she said frightened and at the same time surprised, feeling the garment on her fist.

The agent discovered that the touch of the garment was as all the girls had described. It was soft, it felt very good on the skin, especially when she touched it with her other hand, and also with that touch, she felt the urge to feel comfortable touching it. But she did not feel that pressing “need” to use it immediately, about which they always warned and therefore said that one should not touch it.

Tamara examined that silky garment more closely with her trained eyes. The fabric was shiny, smooth and perfectly flat on the outside, rough and with undulations on the inside. Suddenly and without thinking, she took the panty with both hands and held it to her cheek, to feel that irresistible softness. And as she rubbed it on her cheek, a forbidden idea was implanted into her head.

"I have to know what they felt, . . . which is what makes them change," she said looking at the chains, so she would have a basis to better fight this new danger.


to be continued. . .