A Study in Satin

by Tigger

 

Part II: Veni, Veni, Vici.

Chapter 4: The Feminine Crucible

 

Surprisingly, Sherla was not all that uncomfortable - with the exception of not being able to bring her hand down below her waist to scratch that infernal itch that always foreshadowed the onset of withdrawal. She was lying on her back in the center of the large four-poster canopy bed in Irene Adler's guest room. The unrelenting pull of the bonds at her wrists and ankles formed Sherla's body into a perfect "X", each limb reaching out to the corners of the head and foot boards.

Actually, she wasn't truly "bound"; it would be more accurate to say that she was "restrained." Sherla had expected to be bound with stout ropes - something that had worried her since Sherlock Holmes had learned a good deal about escaping rope bondage in his days. Instead, Irene, assisted by a smirking Katrina, had affixed heavy-link chains to each of the bedposts. Each chain had a thick, wide leather strap locked to it which was then buckled tightly to one of Sherla's ankles or wrists. Oddly, the straps were lined with something velvety that cushioned their grip and prevented chafing, while not sacrificing security. She would not escape these restraints, a fact for which she was very grateful. Still, Sherla thought, their ready availability in this house was rather peculiar. She could not imagine why a gentlewoman would have such things and said as much to Irene.

"Come now, girl," she'd chided sardonically, "if you are truly Sherlock Holmes, an *English*man* no less, you have heard of love games that use such implements. Why, many call such games, when combined with a birch, whip or cane, 'English Style.'"

For an instant, Sherla wondered at what the woman was talking about and then her eyes went wide! "You mean. . YOU? And you let someone do this to YOU??!?"

Irene laughed - a naughty little laugh that did strange things to Sherla's insides - before answering. "Who says I let anyone do this to me, little girl? Those chains and straps would hold my darling husband quite adequately, and so they have, I assure you," then she laughed again. "But to answer your question more honestly, yes, I do enjoy - every once in a great while - lying as you are now and letting my darling have his wicked way with me. The release after a long period of teasing and denial is too incredible to be described."

A pink blush ran from Sherla's bared bosom to her hairline, the sudden heat reminding her that Irene had insisted that she removed everything except her pantaloons before laying down upon the bed. "Irene? It is certainly warm enough in here since you had Katrina lay the fire and set it to blazing, but why must I lie here like some perversion of a Botticelli nude?"

"So that when your attack comes, there will be nothing about you that you could use to foul or restrict your breathing. We want you to survive this night, and I am trying to anticipate means by which, during your madness, you might attempt to kill yourself. That is why I am going to spend the night with you, and if necessary, Katrina will relieve me in the morning - so that we might stop you from doing something I have not anticipated."

"I see," Sherla murmured, and then settled herself as comfortably as she could to wait.

~----------~

The waiting soon came to an end as Sherla became aware of a sudden buildup of heat in the pit of her stomach, brought on by the gentle whisper of air across her painfully-swollen nipples. A shudder snaked through her. Instantly, Irene was at her side. "It grows stronger, then?" she asked softly. You do look rather more flushed and I can see you are perspiring rather heavily."

"Beginning? Ha! And how very unladylike of you to notice," Sherla snapped as another wave of heat pulsed through her body.

"My. Dear. Child. You are not merely perspiring, you are sweating. And what ever gave you the idea that I am a Lady, especially in the bedroom?"

"I had. . .noticed," Sherla managed to get out before one of the muscle spasms in her lower abdomen caught her by surprise. "Irene? You do have you gun ready, do you not?"

"Yes, but I do not intend to use it on you," Irene told her in a now quietly determined tone. "When you think to give in to the madness, think on that first, little girl. I will NOT put you out of your misery. Now that I have you here like this, the easy way out will be denied you. You have no choice but to fight your way through this. I will do all that I can to help, but I will not kill you."

Anger flared inside Sherla who realized for the very first time that she had actually been counting on Irene to destroy her life before Moriarty's foul potion destroyed her mind – by far the more important issue. "DAMN you, Irene! I trusted you! You have no idea what this is like!"

The symptoms were suddenly back in full force. Evidently the smaller dose of the drug had not banked the awful fires as much as the regular dose had in the past. Irene saw the fear in the girl's eyes and nodded. "No, I don't know what it is like. Why don't you tell me?"

"You've read my journal," Sherla gasped, her breathing ragged as she strained against the chain and strap restraints.

"So I have, but telling me about it now may help now. Think, Sherla. Use your mind or lose your mind - that is your choice."

Eyes round at that thought, Sherla nodded and then began to speak. "It's bloody awful," she said, fighting to keep a quaver from her voice. "I feel like I am running a horrible fever - as if my internal organs were roasting in their own juices. I can't seem to take in a full breath as I pant it out the last before the next one is taken. My skin. . OH GOD . .my skin - it itches and burns and crawls all at once. Just the air on it makes it feel . . strange. .. like a shock. And my muscles feel like a cramp just before it cramps."

Irene looked at Sherla. "Well, you are perspiring very hard so it seems hard to believe you have a fever." A warm hand came down on Sherla's forehead. "You're actually quite cool if more than just a bit moist."

"I do not FEEL cool!" Sherla rasped, struggling ever harder against her bonds.

"And your skin is sensitive, you say?" Irene asked, noting the turgid heat of two particularly-sensitive bits of Sherla's skin.. Before Sherla could formulate a suitably damning replay, Irene ran one finely manicured nail gently down the length of Sherla's right arm - just barely grazing the goose-pimpled flesh.

Sherla's body went rigidly taut, her mouth was open for a scream she couldn't quite manage before finally relaxing.

"What. . .. did . . you. . . do?" Sherla finally managed to pant out.

A hint of a smile curled to one side of Irene's mouth as she detected a fragrance that revealed the true nature of Sherla's distress. "Oh, not much. . . not as much as *this*!" She said as she took Sherla's nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinched gently with her nails.

A shocked squeal issued from Sherla as her body went rigid for at most a heartbeat and then began to spasmodically arch and fall against the chains. This continued for several seconds before she finally fell to bed, her body limp. "I thought so," Irene said with smug satisfaction.

There was a pause of more than a minute before Sherla could muster the breath to speak. "You. . . thought. . .WHAT?" she demanded.

"You aren't going mad, girl. You are just very, very aroused."

"Aroused?"

"Sexually aroused," Irene finished. "You looked much like my husband looks when I have been teasing him by denying him his manly release, and your descriptions just now reminded me of how I felt when I permitted him to have his way with me in this same manner." Irene paused and saw the utter disbelief in her guest's eyes. "Don't believe me? All right, tell me what it felt like when I tweaked your nipple."

The question brought Sherla up short, but something had definitely changed. She wasn't nearly as . . . uncontrolled as she had been moments ago. "It felt like. . like something shot from your fingers into me that made every muscle in my body spasm. It was as if my mind short circuited and the world went bright white. I don't remember much after that until I fell back to the bed."

"And how do you feel now?"

Sherla considered that for a long moment. "More relaxed, I think."

"An apt enough description of a feminine climax, albeit a fairly intense one. Welcome to the world of passionate womanhood, girl."

A frown crossed Sherla's sweat-beaded forehead. "But no one reacts like that to passion," she asserted. "Certainly not women."

Irene laughed. "Sherlock, and that is who I am addressing at this moment, you must not have been a very good lover in your trousered days. Let me assure you that women who have the good fortune to meet a man who knows how to love a woman properly react very much like that to passion."

"Now what?" Sherla asked, not certain she wanted to accept that explanation.

"I think we will wait a while to see if that is all it takes to throw off this madness of yours, Sherla."

A sudden twinge in her lower abdomen alerted Sherla. "I. . I think that is a sound stratagem, Irene, because I think it is coming back on me, even as we speak."

Irene nodded and watched as Sherla's nipples began to pucker and elongate, and her skin began to dimple with the return of the goose pimples. Soon, the fiery flush was back in evidence and Sherla was panting heavily as she tried to breathe. "Same as before?" Irene asked gently.

"Yes. . . if . . . not . . .worse!" Sherla managed.

Nodding, Irene unlaced the front of Sherla's pantaloons, and then, grabbing the two sides of the garment, tore then down the center seam leaving Sherla nude from her knees to her head. "Well, if you think that *I* am going to deal with this all night, you are terribly mistaken." she said with a laugh. "You are left handed, are you not?"

Sherla nodded and then was stunned when Irene reached up and unfastened the cuff on her left wrist. With a firm yet gentle grip, she pulled the freed hand down towards Sherla's loins. "Now, as gently as you can, stroke yourself. . . just one finger as a starter."

Sherla tried to jerk her hand away, but Irene's grip was firm and she couldn't move her hand away. "Try it, just once, all right?" Irene asked in a very soft voice.

Nodding, Sherla carefully extended her index finger until she felt her nail touch the skin. Closing her eyes, she tightened her finger muscles to stroke.

"OH MY GOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooD!" she screamed as the spasms returned, only far stronger.

~-------------~

After two hours, Irene felt safe in leaving the girl to get something to amuse herself with. Watching Sherla, while initially entertaining, soon became rather exhausting. *Girl certainly has stamina.* She returned moments later with the journal in her hands. Something about the book was bothering Irene, and it appeared she would have several hours to ponder that puzzle. Sherla had only shown limited signs of slowing down.

~--------------~

After another two hours, the storm finally passed and Sherla fell deeply asleep, her arousal apparently satisfied for the nonce at least . *I really am getting too old for keeping such late hours,* Irene thought as she settled herself onto the small cot she'd helped Katrina set up earlier and tried to go to sleep. She was tired, but worse than that, now that Sherla had calmed down, Irene found her own body growing needy. *Damn you, Godfrey, why can't you be here when I NEED you!* she thought, even though she knew it was patently unfair on her part. Still, she wanted her husband and she wanted him NOW! The fact that he was on the other side of the ocean and she was here did little to relieve her annoyance at that particular moment.

*If you want to get any rest at all tonight,* she thought resigned, *and by all accounts, you are going to need it tomorrow, then you must needs practice what you have so blithely preached.* Sighing, Irene twisted herself into a suitable position and set about taking her own feminine arousal in hand.

~-------------~

Several things conspired to rouse Sherla from her heavy slumber. The first was a lock of hair that repeatedly found its way to her nose. The second was a mischievous lance of sunlight that unerringly focused on Sherla's long-lashed eyes. The third was nature's call. However, the final straw was a return of the burning sexual need of the night before.

Sherla woke fully as her first orgasm took her, and she screamed her surprise. A muffled groan from somewhere near the foot of her bed came in counterpoint.

A disgruntled looking Irene rose from her small cot to stare down at the still restrained Sherla. "Again?" she complained. "Lord girl, take care you don't grow calluses on your womanhood."

Sherla started to apologize but stopped. Now that her most pressing need had been satisfied, other needs became preeminent and she was still restrained to the bed by one hand and her feet. "Help me, Irene, I need to use the facilities," she said in a tight voice as she struggled with the strap on her right hand."

Understanding, Irene made quick work of the ankle bindings and then watched amused as a nearly-nude Sherla hurried stiff-legged to the water closet. "Good thing I managed to convince my darling husband to invest in indoor plumbing," she said to an empty room.

In short order, a sheepish looking Sherla came back into the room. "Your maid saw me and was rather shocked at my dishabille," Sherla managed.

"Shocked? HAH. Not likely," Irene snorted, "But we will discuss my maid more fully later. How do you feel?"

Sherla considered that for a moment and was about to speak when her stomach rendered a most unladylike growl. "Ummm, I believe that about says it all."

"Very well, let us get you dressed and we will see what Katrina has contrived for us to break our fast."

 

 

 

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© 2000 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.