10:18 PM.  Day One.

In an upscale luxury condo in an affluent part of town, crept the shadowy silhouette of a woman.  Stepping into the light, her tight black cat suit-clad body sauntered over the hard-wood floors, her black leather calf-length boots nary making a sound.  Her long jet black hair flowed down her back as she walked into the bedroom.  A mirror on the wall revealed a strikingly beautiful Asian-American face as the woman continued into the room.  She kicked off her boots one at a time, revealing an absolute perfect set of size 8 ½ feet clad in sheer tan pantyhose.

“Whew,” said Tomi Kat, world-renowned cat burglar extraordinaire, laying down on the bed, as she spread her latest acquisitions out on the bedspread.  “So shiny and pretty…I don’t know what to keep and what to donate,” she said, her beautiful green eyes wide as she looked over the jewelry.  You see - Tomi Kat was the alter ego of Tomiko, glamour model and philanthropist, who traveled the world and graced magazine covers everywhere.  But the glamorous life of a supermodel was boring, and Tomiko had always fantasized about living another life.  A life filled with adventure.  Danger.  Excitement.  A life she longed for.

Ten years ago she fell into that lifestyle by accident, and hasn’t looked back since.  WRITER’S NOTE: I’m putting together an “origins” back story for this character to be posted in the near future.

As she ran her fingers over the jewelry, Tomiko switched on the television, turning to the local news channel.

“Breaking news tonight on News Channel Seven that you won’t want to miss…we’re on location at the scene of the crime, where the top tobacco executive in the country apparently had his manor home broken into and robbed of some very expensive jewelry.  More on this story as it develops.”

“Damn they’re quick,” said Tomiko, smiling as she looked over the jewelry, the very same from the news story.  “A little poetic justice…I think I’m going to fence everything and donate the money to the Cancer Society.  Why should some trophy blonde bimbo get to parade around in this stuff when it can do some real good in the world,” said Tomiko with a smirk.

3:42 PM.  Day Two.  Red Light District.

“What the fuck!” screamed Joe, as he grew impatient behind the camera.  “What!?!” said Jennifer, a pretty blond college student.  “I accidentally cut my foot the other day…is it a problem?” she asked.  “Of course it’s a fucking problem you stupid bitch!” screamed Joe.  “I run a pantyhose foot-fetish web site.  I shoot pretty young things like you to showcase your feet in pantyhose.  I think my fucking customers are going to notice that the model has a big-ass cut on her foot!” yelled Joe.

“Go fuck yourself asshole!  Keep your lousy hundred bucks…I’m outta here!” said Jennifer as she stormed out.  “Good riddance to ya!” yelled back Joe.  “Fucking piece of crap models,” Joe muttered under his breath.

A guy in his 30’s, originally from New York (with the requisite accent and attitude), Joe was a typical loser.  Several years ago he gave up his IT job to pursue the life of a fetish photographer.  While he claims he did it to follow his passion for fetish, everyone knows he did it just to hang out with hot models, his attempt at filling a void in his pathetic life.  As Joe sat in his empty studio, he couldn’t help but think to himself - he needed a star.  A big star.  A woman who would put his business back on top.  Someone who wouldn’t complain, or demand excess money.  But where would he find such a model?  All the decent models demanded so much money, money that Joe couldn’t afford to part with.  Flicking on the television, Joe tried to relax as he turned on the evening news.

Same Time.  Across Town.

Wearing a conservative navy pants-suit, Tomiko sat at her mahogany desk in the office of her Philanthropy organization, as she thumbed through a host of papers.  “All worthy causes,” she said aloud.  “Which one should we devote our resources to this month,” asked her assistant Mary, a beautiful young college student who volunteered her time to assist Tomiko’s philanthropic endeavors.

“Like I said, all worthy causes.  How about this one,” Tomiko said as she pulled one paper aside.  “Says they’re a group concerned with protecting young women from falling into the trap that is the adult & fetish industries.  Sounds worthy enough,” said Tomiko.  “I know, all those creeps trying to make a quick buck by exploiting women…it’s just disgusting!” said Mary.  “And look here,” she continued.  “Their main target is a nylon foot-fetish web site that showcases young women’s feet in pantyhose and stockings, and is renowned to be a haven for illegal activities, including prostitution.”

“Look here…apparently the creep that runs the site has been expanding to other activities, including tickle torture and forced orgasms,” said Mary, reading the report.  “Says here that the police have received at least a half-dozen reports of harassment and false imprisonment from models who’ve worked with this creep.  I guess his MO is to lure them in, and when they don’t give him what he wants, he turns violent,” said Mary.

“Well, it’ll be a pleasure to lend our help and get this jerk shut down for good!” said Tomiko, feeling pleased with herself as she reclined in her leather office chair.  “Write the organization a check immediately,” said Tomiko.  Mary nodded as she left the room.  “While they’re fighting this guy legally, I think Tomi Kat should pay him a little visit tonight for some super heroine justice,” she thought to herself.

1:17 AM.  Day Three.  The Red Light District.  Inside Joe’s Studio.

Looking around, she spied a multitude of bondage equipment, from sawhorses and stocks, to suspension rigging and bondage chairs.  Lining all the walls of the studio were framed photos of various women in perilous bondage.  Most of them looked to be either in extreme pleasure or pain, as the expressions on their faces told.  “What the hell is this thing,” she quietly muttered as she approached a particular piece of furniture in the center of the room.

What looked to be a gynocologist device, with padded leg and arm rests extended out and away from the black leather padded center backrest and headrest.  The arm rests were pulled at a 90-degree angle, while the leg rests were pulled at almost the same angle.  Eyebolts were everywhere along the sides of the device.  “Geezus…whoever this asshole uses this thing on must be able to do the splits,” Tomiko thought to herself, taking note of the position of the leg rests.

“THUNK!!!” came the dull sound as the wooden baseball bat made contact with the back of Tomi Kats head.  The force of the blow made Tomi Kat spring forward, crashing head-first into one of the framed photo’s on the wall, smashing the glass and sending the frame flying off the wall.  Tomi Kat bounced backward, falling onto her back on the wooden floor as she gazed up toward the ceiling.  She was completely dazed, as the room appeared to be spinning.  Suddenly, a man came into view, standing above her, looking down upon her.  At first Tomi Kat thought it may have been three men, as they were spinning in a circular motion, and she had a hard time focusing.  Right before she passed out, the three men melded into one, and she thought she saw a slight smile form on his face.

1:42 AM.  Day Three.  The Studio.

Tomi Kat started to wake up, her vision returning to normal.  She felt like she was sitting in a chair, as she shifted her body slightly.  Opening her eyes, she realized she was indeed sitting in a chair, a black padded folding chair.  She tried pulling at her hands, but quickly realized they were tied behind her back, and to the chair backing as well.  “What the hell!” screamed Tomi Kat, as she pulled violently at her bound hands.  The chair was bolted to the floor, but she was still able to shake it slightly.  “Unnghh” said Tomi Kat as she winced her right eye, a slight pain above it.

“You busted your head pretty good on that glass frame toots,” said Joe, walking into the room.  “Well, probably not anymore busted than what my bat did to your skull!” said Joe with a smirk.  “I took the liberty of cleaning the cut on your head and stopped the bleeding.  You can thank me later,” he continued, as he pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of Tomi Kat, about a foot away.

“Now why don’t you and I have a little chit chat,” said Joe, as he began running his hands over Tomi Kats jet-black cat suit-covered legs.  “Get your hands off me you creep!” she screamed at him.  “You untie me right now, and maybe I won’t think about pressing kidnapping charges on you,” said Tomi Kat.  “Oh my God, Hahaha…” Joe laughed aloud.  “You’re going to press charges against me!?!  I caught you breaking into my studio honey.  As far as the law is concerned, you have no rights here,” said Joe, the smirk appearing again on his face.

“So tell me, what are you doing here?  Your outfit just screams cat burglar.  Is that it?  Are you a cat burglar, trying to steal my stuff.  C’mon, answer me.  ANSWER ME!” Joe said, his voice suddenly getting louder.  “I have NOTHING to say to a freak like you, so you might as well let me go and we’ll call it a night,” said Tomi Kat.  “Or how about I just call the cops and have them arrest you.  That sound fun to you?” said Joe.

Realizing that she indeed was breaking the law, Tomi Kat suddenly changed her demeanor from defiant to something more remorseful.  “Look, you’re right, I’m sorry for breaking into your studio, it was a big mistake.  Please just let me go and I’ll promise never to do it again,” she said, her voice attempting to sound sincere.

For a moment Joe considered it in his mind, as he looked away from her, his eyes gazing over the various pictures on the wall.  “You know…,” said Joe.  “…while you were sleeping in the chair, I couldn’t help but notice just how pretty your feet are in those sheer tan pantyhose you’re wearing.”  Tomi Kat suddenly had a puzzled look on her face, as she was confused by the statement.  “My feet?” she said.  “That’s right.  That’s what I do here at my studio.  I film nylon foot-fetish scenarios - among other things - with pretty ladies just like you.  I’ve seen a million pairs of nylon feet in my day, and I have to confess, yours are the prettiest I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

“Err…well, thank you, I guess,” said Tomi Kat, confused by his statement.  “Now about letting me go, please sir, I’ll never do it again, you have my promi…” Tomi Kat said, but stopped as Joe gently grabbed her left leg, lifting it up toward him as he sat in front of her, raising her left foot up to his chest level.

“Ok, yes I have pretty feet,” said Tomi Kat sharply, as she didn’t know what he was doing.  “So what do you say?  Can we come to some kind of arrangement where you’ll let me go and forget this ever happe…” said Tomiko, again stopping her statement as Joe ran a finger, from top to bottom, down her left sheer tan pantyhose sole.

“Hey!?!” screamed Tomi Kat, as she felt her left nylon foot being tickled.  “STOP THAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” she screamed, as Joe scrabbled his fingers on his right hand up and down her left nylon sole, his left hand holding her ankle securely as she tried to pull away.  “NNOOHOHOHOHAHASTTOPPPAAHAHA!!!” was all the Tomi Kat could muster, as she felt her gorgeous nylon foot being explored by this creeps fingers.

2:58 PM.  Day Three.  Joe’s Studio.  Upstairs Bedroom.

Tomi Kat lay on her back on the dirty bed, her wrists and ankles tied spread eagle to the corners of the rusty metal bed frame.  Sweat poured down her face as she pulled at her bonds, but to no avail.  Truth be told, she’d been pulling at them for the last several hours.  Her shiny black cat suit was soaked through with perspiration, as her exhausted body went limp, realizing the futileness of her actions.

“I can’t believe that fucker is going to use me as an unwilling model for his fetish web site!” she said, the usually pleasant Tomi Kat cursing, something she rarely did.

Earlier, Joe had explained his grand plan to Tomi Kat, going into minute detail about everything he wanted to do.  At first it seemed so fantastical and ridiculous to Tomi Kat, that she just sat in her chair, stunned.  She even chuckled a bit.  His “plan” was to keep her as his prisoner, filming her in all kinds of different fetish scenarios, taking custom requests from his fan base, and selling his wares on the internet for all the sicko’s to get off on!

Suddenly the door to her room open, its rusty hinges squeaking.  In walked Joe, carrying an expensive-looking camcorder attached to a tripod.  “Morning, my sweet little meal ticket!” said Joe, putting the tripod down, adjusting the LCD screen on the camera, focusing it on Tomi Kat’s upper body and facial region.  “Oh for FUCK’S SAKE!” screamed Joe, as he looked at Tomi Kat.  “You’re all sweaty…what the fuck, you been pulling at your bonds!?!” said Joe.

Joe sat down alongside Tomi Kat on the bed, grabbing her chin with her powerful right hand.  “I want you to know while you were in here I posted your picture on my website.  I described you as a hot new exclusive model, willing to film anything my fans want.  And now that I need to get some glamour shots of you, you’re a FUCKING SWEATY MESS!” screamed Joe, squeezing Tomi Kats chin until it hurt.

“So sorry to disappoint you, you miserable son of a bitch!” said Tomi Kat in disgust.  “There’s no way in HELL I’ll ever let you turn me into your fetish slave!  So FUCK YOU and FUCK your glamour shots, ASSHOLE!” said Tomi Kat, her voice dripping with anger.  “You want me compliant and docile!?!  You better knock me out because I’m going to fight you at every God damn step!” said Tomi Kat.

Joe, tightening his grip on Tomi Kat’s chin, moved his face in close to hers, his eyes locked on hers.  “You don’t want to do glamour shots?  FINE.  Joe used his left hand to push the “record” button on the camcorder mounted on the tripod.  “It doesn’t matter anyway, bitch.  Glamour shots can wait.  Besides…” Joe continued, as his left hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a white folded cloth.  “…chloroform fetish was my first fan request!” said Joe, as he pushed the sickly-sweet chloroform rag down onto Tomi Kat’s nose and mouth, holding her chin tightly with his right hand.

“MMMHHPPHH!!!!” screamed Tomi Kat from underneath the cloth.  “VUUFFUCCKINNGGVVASSSTTAARDD” she screamed, trying desperately to shake her head side-to-side, but to no avail, as Joe held her face firmly and continued to press down hard.

“PPVVEEEASSSEEEMMHHPPHH!!!!” said Tomi Kat, her voice starting to lower, as her eyes became heavy.  “NNOOOQQUAARRLLFFOORRM” she continued, her voice now quite low, as her eyes began to swirl in her head.  The room began to spin, as her eyes rolled up into her head.  “Pvveeess…” was the last thing Tomi Kat said, before falling unconscious.

“That’ll teach ya,” said Joe in a cocky voice, playing up to the camcorder, as he clicked the “record” button once more, turning it off.  “That’ll be my first release, once we’ve had another chat and I get your name and some other information,” Joe continued, talking to the sleeping Tomi Kat.  “But before all that, let’s get some sexy nylon foot shots for my fans,” said Joe as he got up and began untying Tomi Kat’s ankles from the spread eagle position.

Joe adjusted his camcorder, focusing on Tomi Kat’s sheer suntan pantyhose feet, which now lay side-by-side.  For the next five minutes, Joe made a recording of Tomi Kat’s feet, moving the tripod to capture different angles while he used his hands to shape and explore her sexy nylon feet, spreading her toes, every so often running a finger up her suntan soles, causing the sleeping Tomi Kat to wiggle her toes and let out the faintest of giggles.

6:33 PM.  Day Three.  Joe’s Studio.  Upstairs Office.

Tomi Kat lay sleeping on the dirty bed, the white chloroform rag taped over her mouth and nose with black electrical tape, keeping her in a chloroform-induced coma.  Every so often she’d faintly moan, moving her head from side-to-side, but remained in dreamland.  Joe was in his office across the hall, and gave a glance at each moan, a smirk creeping on his face.

“Let’s see what the response is since posting those nylon feet pics and video,” said Joe, clicking away on his laptop.  “Hmm…interesting.  Looks like the top requests are…let’s see…oh, of course…Tickle Torture.  Followed up by Massive Never-Ending Forced Orgasms.  Nylon Foot Worship.  Oh wait, what’s this…hmmm…Girl-Girl Lesbian Domination.  I think we can accommodate all of that,” said Joe, leaning back in his office chair.

From the next room, the slightest of moans could be heard…