Platypus 24: Catherine's Slave

“How’d the talk with the doctor go?” Gil asked as he drove with Catherine, behind Jim’s car, to the address the doctor had given them.

She sighed. “Fine. I think he was going to sell me a pair.” She glanced at him and chuckled. “Shouldn’t push sales like that on previously unhappy customers.”

Gil glanced over at her, confused with her last statement. “What?”

“I told you I had implants once, right?”

“Nooo...” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

She smiled. “Well, you obviously knew that my breasts got smaller after I started working at CSI, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, feeling his ears burning. “Cath, I didn’t exactly study you like that—”


Gil sighed, knowing he was busted. “Yeah, I noticed, but I thought that maybe it was makeup, or something. Why did you have them taken out?” When he felt her eyes on him, he started rambling: “Not that I wish you didn’t... I love your breasts the way they are... they’re perfect... I, um...”

She giggled. “Relax, Gil.”

“Well, why?”

“They were leaking.”

He saw Jim Brass’ car pull into a driveway that lead to a large, dark house. “I’m really glad you had them taken out.”

She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Me, too.” She turned away from him and looked out the windshield. “This place is cool looking.”

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. She slowly slipped her hand up his face, cupping his cheek. “Cath, Jim might see...” Before he could pull away, his hand was on her cheek. He cursed softly, in reaction to his lack of control to her. They both smiled. Catherine leaned against his hand, moving until his thumb hovered over her lips. “Cath...” He groaned when she sucked the digit into her mouth. “God... I can’t...”

She released him and smiled, leaning up quickly to kiss his lips once. “I know, I know. I couldn’t resist.”

“When I get you home...” he wagged a finger at her.

“Gonna punish me?” She winked, slipping out of the car to meet Jim, who had just gotten out of his car.

Gil took a long deep breath and then went to join them.


Catherine shook her head. “No domestic has a ten thousand dollar rack. Not even in Vegas.”

As Brass spoke, she took a deep breath, trying to shake off the heat she had created in Gil’s Tahoe. “Well, the DMV records indicate that she hit town from South Dakota three years ago. I figure the bright lights faded and she snagged a sugar daddy.”

She asked: “How much business can one sugar daddy give a plastic surgeon?”

They rang the doorbell. Catherine sighed, waiting impatiently. She wanted to get this case wrapped up so she could take Gil home and unwind.

Gil spoke next: “The eternal question to which we’re about to find the answer.”

A beautiful woman opened the door. Catherine suppressed the gasp that wanted to be released; she noticed how surprised Gil looked, and wondered what he was thinking.

She spoke with a soft, controlled voice that told Catherine she was a well-educated, strong-minded woman. “Let me guess: three police officers looking for respite from having to control and dominate our big, bad city?”

Catherine was at a loss for words. Between Gil and this woman and her business, she felt her body temperature rise. Brass spoke for them: “Close. One police officer, two criminalists. May we come in?”

She stepped back and granted them access. Catherine heard a whip crack and a man groaning; her curiosity was mounting.

The stranger smiled. “Another happy customer. Now, would you prefer individual sessions or would you like to enjoy each other’s submissions?”

Gil’s eyes sought Catherine’s. She wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking. Images of Gil, bowed before her, submitting to her, while she held a whip in her hand, standing over him in stiletto boots filled her head; in reaction, she laughed.

“You don’t have to decide now. Please, make yourselves comfortable, and welcome to Lady Heather’s Dominion.”

They were left alone for a minute. Lady Heather told them that she would be right back. Jim was busy looking uncomfortable. Gil approached Catherine. “What do you think?” She whispered with a smile.

He shook his head. “I don’t like that look in your eyes.”

She laughed again. “Liar.”

Gil’s smile stretched. She grinned back, her mind working to push away the images that had her so heated up.


Catherine followed Lady Heather into the back room, where cleaning up took place. “Anything from last night would be in here. Masks,” she told her, “The usual accouterment.”

She was surprised with how helpful this woman was being. “We don’t technically have a warrant.”

“Not necessary,” the brunette responded. “I want to help.”

Catherine put her kit down. She was still having trouble shaking those images of Gil from her head; she thought it was funny that she had never considered such a thing until submerged into the environment. Then, she had another thought, and glanced at Lady Heather, wondering if she should ask her question. When she met the other woman’s eyes, she realized it wasn’t appropriate, and she looked away and put her gloves on.

“Go ahead,” Lady Heather broke the silence between them. “Ask: ‘How can I do this for a living?’”

“Oh,” Catherine replied. “That’s not what I was thinking. How much does this place clear in a week?”

“Ten grand.”

In disbelief, she turned around. “I’m not with the IRS.”

Heather smiled. “Okay, twenty.”

Catherine let out a long breath. “I don’t make that in three months.”

“Sex pays a lot better than death.”

She smiled. “Plus, the outfits are cooler.”

“Well,” Lady Heather admitted. “I have this genius tailor. Worked at the Desert Inn back in the day. I let him come in weekends and play human ashtray. He designs for me and my girls. It’s a fair trade.”

Catherine found herself admiring this woman. “You got a good thing going here. And the best part is that these guys think getting slapped around and getting humiliated is their fantasy.”

“It’s like I always tell my daughter—”

Catherine was even more impressed. “You got a daughter?”

Heather smiled proudly. “Eighteen this month, a freshman at Harvard.”

“Really?” Catherine smiled. “Mine’s seven.”

“Oh, that’s a great age.”


She continued her story: “When I thought Zoe was ready to hear it, I told her: ‘Honey, there are a lot of things you can give a man: your body, your time, even your heart. But the one thing you can never, ever, ever let go of is your power.’”

Catherine responded with a light tone in her voice. “All my mother ever said to me was: ‘Cash up front.’”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Lady Heather commented as Catherine continued to work. “But, I think you’ve got everything it takes to make a great dominatrix.”

The images of Gil resurfaced, again. “I take that as a compliment.”

“Well, you should. It’s just about knowing yourself, being strong, and not taking any crap from powerful jerks who are used to giving it all day long.”

“Well,” Catherine countered. “Death is still a man’s business, and I don’t have to tell you about police work.”

“So,” she asked a probing question. “How do you survive?”

The strawberry-blonde answered truthfully: “By knowing myself, and working hard, and by not taking any crap from powerful jerks who are used to giving it all day long.”

Lady Heather smiled and nodded her head. “But, Mr. Grissom... he isn’t one of those powerful jerks.”

Catherine found herself smiling. “No, he’s definitely not.”

“How long have you two been together?”

Her jaw dropped open in shock. “We’re not...”

Lady Heather’s smile stretched. “I’ve seen how he favors you. He turns towards you, keeping himself open to you the entire time, which is surprising, because he seems like a very closed off man.”

“He is,” Catherine nodded. “But, that doesn’t mean—”

“You blush when he gets too close. Your pupils dilate, too. He has trouble meeting my eyes, or Mr. Brass’s, but he can keep eye contact with you comfortably for an extended period of time. You touch discretely; hands brushing, holding a little longer than they should.” She shrugged. “Looks like romance.”

Catherine struggled to close her open mouth. “You got all of that from what you’ve seen here tonight?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I’m good with people.”

“I’ll say.”

“Is he the submissive or dominant?”

She shook her head. “We don’t... do this.”

“He’s interested in it.” Catherine blushed, but smiled. Lady Heather continued. “But, you don’t need whips, chains, latex, or leather to have a dominant/submissive relationship. People take these roles on, on their own.”

She nodded in agreement. “I guess so. I guess we switch back and forth a lot... certain situations, certain needs.”

“I bet you love to be dominant,” Lady Heather grinned. Catherine laughed, finding that she was thoroughly enjoying this woman’s company.


Catherine walked with Gil at her right side down the hall in the Police Department. After that interrogation, they were both a little winded. It took her a little while to speak: “I just realized that you and I have a very healthy relationship.”

“We do?”

She nodded. “Well, when we have a problem, I don’t paint Greg Sanders in latex and stick a straw up his noise.”

“Good,” Gil responded. “He’d probably like it.”

She put an arm on his shoulder. They stopped moving. “Gil... you’re supposed to say something revealing back to me.”

She saw his pupils dilate as he made eye contact with her. “Okay,” she saw his shoulders slump a little; she wondered what he was going to say. “I never told anybody this, Catherine... but, the past couple of days, I’ve really been wondering what you’d look like painted in latex.”

Her eyes widened; she felt her body heat up. “Really.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, the thought’s come up a couple of times.”

Struggling for the control she needed to not jump him right there, she pasted a huge, confident grin on her face. “Well, Gil Grissom, you’ll just have to see where the night takes you.”


Gil had called Catherine on his way back to her house, telling her that he had to stop in at home and check on his bugs. She told him to hurry home, because supper would be getting cold. The tone in her voice was mysterious, and he wondered what she had planned.

He had driven back to her place quicker than he would normally, eager to see her and whatever her voice was hinting at. When he opened the door, he expected to be attacked by Lindsay, but was pleasantly surprised.

Catherine was standing in front of him, smiling. From the distance between them, he figured she was wearing a black strapless bra, a pair of underwear, and thigh-high boots. As she neared, though, he saw that she was covered in liquid latex.

“Hello,” he grinned, reaching for her. She swatted at his hands, shook her head, and took a step back. He realized what was going on, and wasn’t sure how to react. “Not so fast, eh?”

She smiled and nodded. “Go to the bedroom. Undress, sit down on the bed, and wait for me.”

“Yes, Lady Catherine,” he smiled back at her, his eyes downcast, while he kissed the hand she stretched out towards him. He was aroused; he couldn’t deny it.

He went into her bedroom, and undressed. Once bare, he took his clothes and put them in the hamper. He briefly considered how their lives had changed, and that even laundry was something they shared; however, he didn’t spend too much time on the thoughts. He went to the foot of the bed, and sat down, trying to wait patiently for her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Catherine entered the room. She was carrying two glasses of red wine. “Would you like a drink?”

Gil nodded. “Yes, please.” When she handed him the glass, he spoke again: “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She waited until after he had a couple sips of the potent liquid, before speaking again: “Like what you see?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “I do.”

He leaned towards the bedside table, meaning to put the glass down, but she stopped him with her voice. “Did I tell you to move, slave?”


Her lips twitched into a tiny smirk. “No, what?”

“No, Lady Catherine.”

He was very aroused; he had never thought that Catherine would be as sexy as she was in the very dominant position, and he had certainly never considered himself the submissive type. He knew they both took on certain aspects of these roles in their relationship, but they never assumed an entire role. This night was different.

“Better.” She took the glass from him and set it down. Then, she touched him. First, her fingers brushed through his hair, trailing past his ear, onto his neck, and then down his chest. She didn’t stop until she had his erection in her hand. When she squeezed, he groaned, struggling to keep himself still. She smiled, but didn’t say anything. He knew that while Lady Heather’s Domain wasn’t for expressing traditional sexual values, he suspected that this night would be more about sexual expression than violent expression.

He watched her straighten up. If he took a deep enough breath, he could smell her arousal. He wished she’d step back a little, if she wanted him to control himself.

“I want you to pleasure yourself,” she ordered in a soft voice that betrayed her strength.

He thought about questioning her, but decided against it. Instead, he took his hand and started pumping his erection, slowly at first.

She caressed his face with her hand. He noticed latex cuffs on her wrists, and smiled as the material brushed up against his cheek. He watched her face when she held a hand out in front of him, retracting all fingers except for her index finger. He glanced down and then back at her face. She smiled and nodded.

Tentatively, he licked the underside of her finger with his tongue. When she sighed, he took that as a good sign, and slowly took her entire finger into his mouth, sucking gently. He felt the speed of his pumping hand increase, and he knew he wasn’t far from an orgasm. He continued to work her finger, swirling his tongue around it while he bobbed back and forth; normally, he’d think something like this was silly, but he saw the phallic imagery behind it, and accepted it.

“Eyes open,” she told him, when his breathing was ragged, when his eyelids were threatening to close. Looking up into her blue eyes was too much; within instants, he exploded. He immediately wanted to ask for a tissue to clean himself up, but he knew better than to move.

She withdrew her finger from his mouth. “Do you want me to clean you up?”

“Yes, please...” he managed to catch enough air to speak. “Lady Catherine.”

He was surprised when she kneeled down in front of him and began to lick at his thighs and softening member. When she was done, she kissed him; he could taste himself on her tongue, and found it strangely exciting.

When she was standing in front of him again, she put a foot up on the bed next to him. “Peel my leg.”

“Yes.” He used his fingers carefully, being very gentle with her. As he pulled strips of the latex off with one hand, he followed with his other hand in a soft massage. He took as long as he could, wanting to please her. When he peeled everything off, exposing a very high heeled sandal on her foot, she put her leg back down, and put the other one up. “May I peel this leg, too, Lady Catherine?”

She nodded. “Yes, you may.”

He did the same thing to the second leg, being as sensual as he felt he could with the act.

She pulled her leg down and leaned in close. He felt himself getting hard again. He admired the way the latex clung to her breasts, before being asked: “What would you like now?” He shrugged; she pursued. “Don’t be shy. Tell me. What would you like now?”


“You have me,” she told him. “Be more specific.”

“I want to...” he felt himself blushing, “Have sex with you.”

“Really?” She smiled.

He nodded. “Yes, please, Lady Catherine.”

“Lie down on the bed, on your back.” He obeyed, and waited for her. She crawled over him, until she was crouching over his hips. He moaned loudly when she finally stopped teasing him and slid down, taking him into her. Once she was resting comfortably against him, she commanded: “Peel off the rest of the latex.”

With a nod, he reached forward to her breasts. It took a while, because it was a bit of a stretch, but little by little, he peeled it away. He squeezed one of her breasts but she slapped his hand: “I told you to peel the latex away, not fondle me.”

“Yes, Lady Catherine.” He started removing the triangle in front, being more careful not to spend any time touching her affectionately there. Then, he removed the tiny triangle from the back. He wondered how difficult it had been to paint her body herself, but he didn’t have much time to entertain the thought. Soon, she was rocking her hips, lifting and falling; before he realized it, he was moving with her.

He gasped and arched his back into her when her nails gripped his chest, scratching scarlet trails to his waist. She chuckled and leaned forward, kissing over the little welts. He felt her mouth, sucking and licking at him; he groaned loudly, then murmured her name over and over, as if a mantra, while they worked together.

She leaned forward again, and whispered in his ear: “Who do you belong to?”

“Huh? Oh.. you, Lady Catherine.”

“Right answer.” Catherine’s tongue snaked out and flitted across his ear, while she rocked against him again. He felt her muscles begin to tighten, so he increased his efforts.

“Ohhhh, God!” She was louder than usual, but it only turned him on more. She threw her head back before snapping forward to look down at him. Then, he felt her orgasm ripple through her. She moaned and fell forward, while Gil’s own system went into overload.

Afterwards, she slid off of him. He rolled onto his side and looked over at her. “Lady Catherine?”

She grinned. “How’d you like it?”

“Wow.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “Tonight’s case inspired you?”

“Yeah.” She nuzzled against him. “You didn’t seem to mind. I think Lady Heather thought you’d be the dominant.”

“You made a sexy dominant,” he responded. When she lifted one leg up into his hands, he started unbuckling her sandal. He set the first sandal on the floor, and when she switched legs, he worked at the other shoe. “Although, someday we’re going to have to switch.”

“As long as you wear the liquid latex,” she laughed.

He wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her swollen lips. “I was thinking I’d paint you in it.” He paused. “Wait a minute. You and Lady Heather were discussing—”

She shushed him. “She brought it up.” He groaned, a little embarrassed. She traced over his jaw with her fingers. “If it’ll make it up to you, I’ll let you paint me now...”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

She sat up. “I’ll go get the jar from the bathroom.”

He laughed. “We’re never going to get any sleep tonight, are we?”

Catherine flashed him a sexy grin and rushed out of the room.

The End!

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