Chapter One:
NCIS agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sped down the road towards an old, almost abandoned, warehouse in downtown D.C. He had gotten a call from a man who lived nearby reporting a disturbance, loud yelling and banging from inside. Everyone in the neighborhood knew the building was used by, as the caller had put it, "those sexually deviant hellions". All Gibbs knew or cared about was that one of his best agents had gone undercover to investigate the murder of a Naval officer - she and woman that they Las Vegas Police Department knew was in town and had recommended.
As his brakes squealed in the parking lot, Gibbs' phone rang, its chipper tone a contrast to his mood. He snatched it up, ready to lay into whoever it was.
"Gibbs," he barked, slamming his car door shut.
"Oh thank God you answered," Heather Kessler's husky voice groaned. "I've already tried DiNozzo and McGee. Neither of them answered. Gibbs, they kicked me out!"
"What?! You mean you're not in there?"
"No, Gibbs," Heather's voice broke. "They told me I could either lose my life or lose her to them, although I really don't think they cared what I thought about..."
Gibbs stopped walking, to angry to take a step. "So you ran with your tail down between your legs and left Agent David alone in there!"
Heather's breathing evened out, all threat of tears gone. "No, Agent Gibbs. I offered them my job, my body, my dominion, and my life. I asked. I demanded. I dropped on my knees and begged them to do what they wanted with me and let her go."
Gibbs deflated instantly. "Heather, where are you?"
"'Bout fifty miles out and headed back to you. They drove me out here and left. Could've at least left a map or something..."
"Call DiNozzo. If he won't answer then call Abby. Tell her to get her butt out the lab and come and get you."
Gibbs slid his phone back down in his pocket as he pushed the door open. He let his gun lead his way in the building, surprised by the absolute silence. He slid down the hall towards the doorway of light. He stepped in the room and his jaw dropped at the sight of Ziva David - one of the strongest women he knew - tied to a bed, bleeding, and almost unconscious.
Gibbs quickly hurried to her side, sliding his gun back into its holster and untying his Israeli's hands.
"Gibbs," she breathed, reaching for him painfully as soon as her hands were free. "Heather...how..."
"She's fine. She just called me."
"Do not be mad...at her..."
Gibbs put a hand on her shoulder. "I know. She told me she was willing to die for you."
Ziva whimpered softly, biting her lip as Gibbs wrapped a sheet around her and picked her up. "He...I told him..."
"Let's get you out of here, then you can tell me," Gibbs muttered, opening his phone and hitting the speed dial for Ducky, hoping the man could care for young woman.
Even with her major scrapes and broken ribs treated, Ziva was still in obvious pain as the tall redhead woman slipped through the doors to the morgue where Doctor Mallard - known to all as Ducky - was taping the last bandage on Ziva's wrist.
"God, Ziva..."
"Do not start, Heather. You did nothing wrong. I do not need your explanations or apologies. You did nothing to warrant the need."
Heather shook her head. "I left you."
Ducky smiled at Ziva as he headed to busy himself in his office. Ziva glared at Heather. "Yes, after being knocked out and physically - literally - drug from the room."
"I still should have taken more care, paid more attention, done some..."
The morgue doors closed behind a shocked Gibbs as the sound of Ziva slapping Heather echoed a bit in the room.
"You do not ever apologize to me for what you did out there. You did nothing wrong, Kessler, and have nothing to apologize for."
Heather glanced over her shoulder, nodding at Gibbs. "Fine then, Ziva. Fine. At least let me apologize for upsetting you now. Please, you got my number. Call me if you need anything."
Ziva smiled a bit at Heather's back as she left, then let out a sad sigh. "I guess you want to know what happened now."
Gibbs nodded. "If you're ready."
The master of the house shook his head at the leather-clad woman at his feet. Heather was dressed in black leather pants, a green tank top, and knee-high black heeled boots. Her long hair was back in a ponytail.
"How interesting..." he muttered. "A mistress willing to die to save an easily replaced slave. Who is she that she is so important?"
"Nobody. Only my best slave. I have spent time and grown attached. I would hate to deprive someone else the pleasure of her."
He chuckled. "How about you teach me to use her? What are her safe words?" He turned to look at Ziva, chained to the bed, naked, and afraid.
"C...colors," Heather stuttered, instantly aware she had mis-stepped somewhere. "Green for okay, yellow for slow, and red for stop."
He nodded. "Good choice. Now, leave."
"What?" Heather stopped moving, resting her butt back on her heels.
"I said, leave." He wrapped the end of a flexible whip around his tanned hand.
"No. She is mine. As long as she's here, I'm here."
He flipped the whip quickly across Ziva's chest and she screamed softly, meeting Heather's gaze fiercely as the older woman jumped up. "No! I brought her here to be with me. You have no right..."
With another snap of the wrist, the whip fell on Ziva's legs and Heather leaped across the room, intent on getting to him. He slammed her head back into the post of the bed. Ziva pulled on the bonds, trying to get to an unconscious Heather. "Take her," he commanded, smiling at Ziva as she watched two men drag Heather from the room.
"Now, pet, how about we see just why you're so important?"
Ziva swallowed her fear to speak. "Not a chance, you son of a..."
A sharp slap sounded, silencing Ziva. "Now," he said, sliding a knife down her front and between her legs. "Don't move, slave."
"He...he..." Ziva's voice broke into sobs as Gibbs wrapped his arms around her. "He worked for hours. Him and his favorite 'toys'. Whips, paddles, fire, him..."
Sobs tore from Ziva and Gibbs pulled her in tighter.
"You don't have to finish."
"I do," she answered quickly, shaking with tears she was holding back. "I need to deal with it, Gibbs." He nodded gently. "He...ah...he tried to rape me. He told me I wasn't wet enough for him yet." She started playing with a button on the knee of her pants. "He used that knife first. He said if I wouldn't get wet, he'd make me."
Gibbs whispered, "Ziva. God. I need one more thing. He'll claim it was consensual. Did you ask him to stop?"
"Gibbs, I asked, I begged, screamed, cried. I safe-worded out. He...he only laughed."
Her speech was gone as she turned into her boss' shoulder. Gibbs rocked Ziva gently and let her cry, not even thinking about how ruined his new shirt was going to be.