Katerina Blues

KATERINA BLUES

By Stephen Pytak

Copyright 2013 Stephen Pytak.

Smashwords Edition, 2013.

Discover other titles by Stephen Pytak at Smashwords.com:

The .40 Caliber Mouse (Book 1 of the series)

The .40 Caliber Mousehunt (Book 2)

The Wild Damned (Book 3)

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This title is also available in an expanded print edition from Mazz Press.

Table of Contents

The Stray

High Roller

Phantom of the Park

Games of Kat & Mouse

Shooting Stars

About the Author

The Stray

Chapter 1

She had a blonde boy's cut, a sinister-looking cat tat on her right bicep and a flair for the dramatic, as evidenced by the balls of flame marked on her breasts. She awoke with a funny taste on her tongue.

Vodka? No. What the hell was I on?

She spit, then opened her eyes. At first everything was a blur. Dizzy, she felt like her world had turned upside down.

Whoa!

She was eye to eye with a deer, an eight-point buck. Its tongue was hanging out, lifeless. Crimson stained the light brown fur on its neck. And drops of red running from its nostrils were falling up.

Falling up?

Her big blue eyes curiously followed the trail.

Beads of blood were forming a puddle in the dirt two feet from her head.

Oh.

Her world had turned upside down, literally. Like the deer, she was hanging from her feet. She spun from side to side in a desperate attempt to evaluate her situation.

Wow. Somebody has a real sense of humor.

She'd been stripped bare. Her ankles were bound together by two nylon zip ties. They were looped around the meat hook which kept her suspended. Her wrists were bound too.

Her eyebrows furrowed as confusion and dread filled her brain. A moment later she smiled and licked her lips passionately. A wild child who lived for the night, Katerina liked the dark and twisted world of sex, bondage and make-believe. But she was never sure if she was a better master or servant.

Doesn't really matter. In the end, it's all about the punchlines.

She shivered as she fully came to her senses.

As she adjusted to the physics of her situation, she realized she had no idea what day it was, but had a feeling she'd been out a while. The last time she was conscious, she was at a New Year's Eve party surrounded by more than 50 people.

Oh well. Happy new year. So where the hell am I?

A few naked light bulbs illuminated the area with dull splashes of yellow. The ground was dirt. The walls were made of wood. She was in a narrow corridor about six feet wide. From her awkward position, she couldn't tell how long it was. There were rails running along the ceiling. Chains and steel hooks dangled from them. There were three deer hanging upside down, gutted and draining. A small window indicated it was dark out. And according to a thermometer on the wall, it was 32 degrees.

Whoa, she said as her breath became a delicate ghost and danced on the air.

The harsh nylon ties were cutting into the skin of her ankles. Her backside was starting to chap.

But she wasn't complaining.

In fact she was relishing the moment, inhaling all the sensations of her desperate situation. The cords ripping into her wrists. The caress of the damp animal carcass tapping her buttocks. The mystery behind her abduction.

Somebody out there loves me.

Her full name was Katerina Dalzell. Everyone knew her as Kat. She was 25 and single, and she never had a shortage of friends with benefits.

She was the editor of an entertainment tabloid in Champaign, Illinois. Called The Stray, it was big with the college crowd and the underground set. She rubbed elbows with everybody who was anybody, from rockers and promoters to student leaders and student predators to vampire wannabes and real creatures of the night. And a lot of people enjoyed rubbing elbows with her.

She had a signature style. It included some very eye-catching body art. She had an attractive tattoo on her right bicep, a stylized black cat holding a pair of red dice. Its eyes were like hers, daring and devilish. The decorations on her chest were a little more daring. Bold strokes of blue turned her D-cups into balls of flame.

To show off those masterpieces she usually wore a clingy white tank top when she went out, even in the dead of winter.

Kat loved to unwind at an alternative dance club called Sally Port. It was located on the outskirts of the city in a former state prison. There she enjoyed dancing to '80s Italian disco and randomly selecting dance partners to grind with. She'd work up a sweat, rollicking and flirting while rubbing her denim-clad butt up against some cell doors. Then she'd usually head down to the club's lower levels for more fun.

There was a members only area down there, home to an illegal gambling house. Craps was her game and she always had a blast rocking the box numbers. She was impossible to miss, the lady with the magic fingers and the silver tongue. Give me a square pair!

There was a reason why her signature cat tat clutched red dice. She wielded them with the air of a war goddess.

C'mon. Hard eight!

Dice seemed to obey her every command.

Nine out of 10, she broke even or went home with a few $100 bills in her pocket.

She'd spend hours there, putting down chips, ingesting copious amounts of penny candy and smoking raspberry cigars. She also enjoyed popping a new underground aphrodisiac called Accra Gee. An addictive treat, it was a little green pill said to launch the female sex drive into orbit.

Works too.

It was illegal, but Kat had no idea why. And since it dazzled her senses, she didn't care.

She didn't always gamble for money.

At the far end of the lower level was the Dungeon.

And depending who was on the other end of the table, she could make some bold suggestions.

Think you're Jesse James? Prove it.

While hanging upside down waiting for her captors to return, Kat tried to figure out how she got there.

We were hanging out. Shooting dice. Won a few bucks. Had a few drinks. Went to the head and...here I am.

She couldn't recall anything else. Obviously somehow she became unconscious.

Don't remember there being a struggle.

She figured she'd been drugged.

Might account for the funny taste in my mouth. But then again...

She didn't know who had knocked her out, stripped her down, tied her arms and legs and hung her upside down, and what their intentions were.

Some ghouls can really take advantage of you in such situations. Don't blame them really. Could be fun. Depends.

She rolled her tongue over her teeth as she thought of a few possibilities, some rather gross, then spit.

So when are they going to show up?

She wasn't sure how long she'd been hanging there, but figured she'd been conscious for at least 15 minutes.

Wonder how long they're going to keep me hanging.

All she could hear was the whisk of winter air on the window. One of the four panes had been broken. A section of clear plastic covered the space, but the silver duct tape wasn't so trusty. A corner had come loose and it flapped like a crazy bat.

She felt winter's cruel touch on her spine.

Brrrrrrr.

She grinned as she shivered. She abandoned logic to fully experience the wild physical sensations.

The icy breeze had a bite. It felt like a waterfall flooded with icicles, all razor-tipped.

Oooooooooohhhhhhhh...

She wondered when hypothermia would set in.

As her eyes continued to adjust to the dim lighting, she got a better idea of her surroundings. She stretched her neck out to see around the trophy bucks hanging out with her, to try to gauge how long the corridor was.

About 20 feet. Is that a doorway?

She couldn't tell.

Shit.

She turned her body and tried to see what was on the other end.

It was a patch of deep inky blackness.

She huffed with frustration. She'd been conscious at least a half hour. She started to sway from side to side.

The movement made the sharp ties cut deeper into her ankles.

She didn't care. She had a short attention span and wanted something to happen. Plus, subconsciously, she wanted to get the blood flowing through her system.

Talk about freezing your ass off.

As she rocked back and forth, the wheels in her head turned.

She had no idea where she was.

Can't be too far from town. But...honestly...I don't know. How long have I been out?

She started rubbing her fingers together. She had a pretty good idea who was running the show.

Who else?

But she wanted to pretend she didn't know.

The world of make-believe is only as real as you make it.

And Kat liked it as real as possible.

Wonder if she's here, or if she's taping all this.

She spotted a hint of red, treasure in the dirt.

Oh...shit.

Her dice were unmistakable.

She stretched out for them.

But they were too far out of reach.

Damn.

She debated about how to act when her captors would eventually come in.

Should I be the passive victim? Just give in to it? Hmmmmmm...

She locked eyes with the deer rubbing her butt, a six-pointer.

So what do you think?

Its black eyes looked as blank as a doll's. Its tongue hung limp.

Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I know what they're going to do with you.

But she was completely in the dark about what her captors had in store for her.

Medieval benches? Suspension cuffs? The rack? Whips? Candles? Hot wax? Branding?

That was one of her more perverse fantasies, the idea of being taken against her will to a dungeon where a group of faceless strangers would introduce her to the kiss of a hot iron.

Actually, that might feel good right about now.

The wind picked up again.

So are they just going to let me freeze out here?

Hello?

She rolled her eyes, figured that was the dumbest thing she could have done. But, ultimately, it didn't matter.

No one answered.

Fine.

She lifted up her arms and examined the zip tie binding her wrists. She noticed the hard plastic locking bar was between them.

Nice. They're obviously not in a hurry to get to me, so...

She readied herself with a deep breath, then, in one fluid motion, she swung her bound wrists up toward her midsection, flared her arms out, what she called chicken-winging it, and slammed her wrists against her belly.

Dammit!

The bond didn't break.

She was tired and a little out of it. The experience of hanging upside down was messing with her perception. And the position was awkward. She had a feeling she wouldn't be able to break the binder on the first try.

Determined, she brought her wrists to her mouth, caught the dangling cord in her chops, then pulled. She wanted to tighten the bond. She knew from experience the tighter it was, the easier it was to pop.

She forced the ratchet as far as she could without pulling out her own teeth in the process. C'mon. C'mon. Tighter. Tighter. Good.

While her fingers were turning blue, the bone white ties were making her wrists beet red.

O.K. Ready. Steady. Go!

She tried again.

The zip tie popped.

Whoo! I still got it.

Then she turned her attention to the ones binding her feet.

Now, for my next trick...

She had to reach up there and, somehow, free the two ties from the meat hook dangling from the chain.

Oh boy.

While she was in reasonably good shape, she wasn't exactly an acrobat. Her love affair with the local Chinese buffet and their deep-fried sugar doughnuts combined with the temptations of the night life she enjoyed made her flesh soft and tender. Her stomach muscles too.

But she was resourceful.

Hey you. Come here!

She reached out, grabbed a handful of deer pelt and pulled the eight-pointer closer to her, until they were eye to eye.

I'm going to be completely honest with you, she said with a come hither whisper. The animal corpse with the dumb tongue looked both grotesque and comical. It made her smile as she delivered her next line: This is gonna hurt.

Her claws found purchase on the flap of hide made when the beast was gutted. Her fingers pierced its damp insides. The juice on its bones made her fingers sticky. But that didn't bother her.

As she struggled to pull herself up, the strain on her body was exhausting. She was testing muscles she never knew she had.

Oh....shit!

Eventually, she was able to reach the steel gambrel holding the deer. It looked like a hellish coat hanger. Spears on the end of it had been put through animal's back legs. When she took hold of it, she felt like a trapeze artist.

O.K. Now what.

The nylon binders around her ankles were dangling from an S-shaped meat hook.

This should be easy.

After three tries, throwing her legs up and convulsing in an effort to free the S-hook from a chain link, she succeeded. But in the process she lost her grip on the deer hanger.

Shit!!!

She fell to the ground and landed on her back. The drop violently zapped the nerves in her backside and jangled her eyeballs. It took her a few moments to get it together, to get used to seeing right-side up again. When she was able to focus, the first thing she fixed on was the meat hook.

Nice. Sharp.

She used the business end of it to break the ties on her ankles. Once free, the first thing she did was reach for her red cubes.

Hey there.

As she stumbled to her feet, she considered her options. Should we call it a night, or see if someone wants to fuck?

She gazed down the corridor, to the area where she swore she saw something that looked like a passageway.

I thought I saw something down here.

It was a flat black aluminum roller door.

She walked over to it. The handle was near her toes.

She reached down and grabbed it. Anybody home?

She pulled hard.

With a wicked rattle, it gave.

Guess so.

A burst of light made her squint.

Whoa.

The combined intensity of the bright white fluorescent ceiling fixtures and bright white-colored walls jazzed her eyes. It took a moment for her retinas to adjust to the lighting scheme.

I'm sure somebody's around someplace.

She stepped through the door frame. The floor was made of concrete. On the back of a chair was a barn coat. It was dark gray and long-sleeved, a men's extra large.

She grabbed it and stuffed her arms into the sleeves as fast as she could. She took a few steps in and spotted a nasty trail of red.

Hmmmm...

A jolt of fight or flight juice rushed through her brain. But her curiosity was more intoxicating.

She followed the trail, turned a corner and found the source.

A deer was hanging from a chain connected to a wheel system on the ceiling. Someone had started tearing its hide from its legs, but hadn't finished.

Kat wasn't a hunter, but wasn't squeamish either. She took in the sights, wide eyed, curious. She noticed the bodily fluids from the animal were running to a drain in the middle of the floor.

As she stared in amazement, she brought the soft sleeves up to cover her nostrils. The sight of blood excited her. But the aroma, not so much. This obviously isn't a set.

On the wall was a poster featuring a line drawing of the body of a

white-tailed deer. It indicated the meat cuts, including the ribs, the

loin and the rump.

The overhead lights put a shine on the cutlery clinging to a magnetic bar. A chef's knife with a 6-inch blade. A meat cleaver with an 8-inch by 4-inch blade. A butcher saw with a 22-inch blade.

Sitting on a wooden block was a beef skinning knife with a 6-inch curved blade. It was covered in dabs of reddish brown.

This is a deer processing plant. Something new. Kind of kinky...I guess. Wonder what that bitch had in mind.

A violent snap shocked her senses.

She spun around, unsure what to expect. Did someone throw a switch?

The lights went out.

Yep.

A hint of yellow light touched her cheek.

She turned toward it.

There was a doorway at the other end of the room fitted with a strip door, a row of transparent vinyl air curtains. The light was just beyond them, a yellow light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Someone's back there. Kat stared at the entry, expecting her captors to make a dramatic entrance and burst through those plastic flaps. She took a deep breath, excited. She exhaled with a whisper. All right. Come and get me.

A screech, like a bat bursting out of Hell, rattled her foundation.

It came from behind.

She turned. Her eyes widened.

Something big and black violently pushed the hanging deer to the side, forcing the wheel on the trolley to scrape against the steel rails. Leather hands clamped her right arm and the back of her neck.

Wow! Theatrics! Ouch!

It was a monster, a strong man sporting a vintage motorcycle helmet with a face shield. The brute gave her an unforgettable introduction to his head gear. He threw her a nasty head butt.

Uhhhhhhh....!

Her body fell limp in his arms.

She came to in seconds, as the long flaps on the door caressed her backside. O.K. Here we go...

The dark man was carrying her over his right shoulder. She couldn't see where they were going.

Suspense. I love suspense.

Her vision blurred. The experience of hanging upside down for an extended period, the sudden shock of the bright lights, the plunge into darkness, and the blow to the forehead had all taken a collective toll. She tried to appreciate her situation, the physical stress combined with the escalation of terror she was feeling. Not everyday you feel like a true victim.

But she wasn't sure how to play it.

Should I just roll with it? Or show 'em I have a pulse?

The ghoul carried her down one hallway, around a few corners, and through a set of double doors to a room at the other side of the complex.

This the dungeon?

It looked very similar to the room the skinned deer was hanging in, but it was a bit more upscale and polished.

Her eyes filled with wonder. A hint of a smile crossed her face.

That's a safe bet.

There was a butcher block, a track system along the ceiling, chains, a hoist and a gambrel.

Wonder what they're gonna do with that?

There was a collection of blades, even a scalpel.

A scalpel?

She also caught sight of a hypodermic needle. It was filled with a clear fluid.

Ummmmm...O.K.

Instead of bright fluorescent beams, the back room was lit by a few studio-style spotlights.

Are they gonna...video tape this?

Then she saw the video camera on a tripod.

Guess so.

Her captor carried her over to a vintage, padded, multi-position medical table, then dropped her on top of it, rudely, without emotion, as if she were just another slab of meat.

Ouch!

The fall stung her tail bone, which was sore from her fall earlier. Her eyes filled with tears. Adrenaline filled her heart. She made fists, curled her toes and thrust her right foot into the bogey's solar plexus.

The masked man grunted in pain as he pitched forward, clutching his midsection. He grabbed a sinister-looking meat hook. It had a handle which his fingers could wrap around.

Oh fuck. I'm sorry.

He swung.

She rolled to avoid the claw and dropped to the floor.

He missed her, caught the table on wheels and, in a fit of anger, turned it over.

Look! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sometimes, I don't know my own strength.

He grabbed her right arm violently, his leather fingers threatening to rip apart the icon of the sly feline. And he simultaneously raised his weapon.

Hey! She flattened out her hand and beat him to the punch, striking his neck and aggravating his wind pipe.

Overcome by a storm of coughs, he released his grip. And as he struggled for his second wind, he reached out for her, clawing and swinging in anger.

Oh shit. She turned and darted.

Unsure what else to do, she ran back the way they came. She didn't have a plan, but didn't want to stay there anymore. She didn't know what to make of her situation and, if it was just a stupid sex game, she wasn't sure how to get it back on track.

She skittered as fast as her thoroughly cold feet would carry her, sliding on the smooth tiles, cringing as her toes scraped the chilled concrete. And every step of the way, she blamed herself for her situation. You spoiled the mood. Idiot! Stupid! Stupid! Oh boy, he's really angry.

She banged out the double doors, barreled through the long strips of plastic leading to