Late Back From Lunch




In the James Morse department store, at 3.15 in the afternoon on that October day, almost everybody was either an employee or a shopper. But hidden away in a stockroom, very much against her will, there was a lady on the premises who didn't come into either category. This lady was Pauline Goddard. She was a traffic warden and she was going to be very late back from her lunch.


Pauline lay on her side, on the transparent dust cover on a double bed in a store room. She wasn't frightened now, but she was not happy. She still wore her white uniform long sleeved shirt and her dark blue bow tie, and her black lace-up shoes, black panties and dark tights, but her uniform skirt and jacket had gone, taken who knows where. Her hands were fastened tightly behind her back with several black plastic straps, and her feet, also bound with a strap, were pulled up behind her and fastened to her wrists. She was gagged with a silk scarf and a handkerchief. Further straps had been fastened tightly round her waist and between her legs. The latter had been placed strategically to arouse her. Pauline's once neat and crisp blouse was not so smart now. The dust in the store and the perspiration from her exertions had seen to that. And her panties and tights were damp, where she had wet herself. Her make-up was smudged by tears and perspiration. Her short black hair, worn in a bob, was all over the place.  She had tried her hardest to get herself untied, but every movement of her hands had pulled on the strap between her legs, and made her more and more aroused. Eventually she had given in to temptation, and pulled back and forth frantically until she brought herself to orgasm.  Now that the moment had past, she was thinking about how she got in this situation.


Her day had been just like any other until she took her lunch break. On most of her working days, Pauline returned to the police station to have a cheap lunch in the canteen. It was nice to be off the streets for an hour, have a chat with the other traffic wardens, and be away from traffic and the public. But today was the first day of a sale, in the biggest department store in the centre. She was always coming across their delivery vans around the town, and there was a lot of friendly banter with some of them. Although she made them stick to the parking limits, she knew that there was some chemistry between herself and one in particular. Nothing serious, she thought, they didn't even know each other's name. Maybe that would change soon, she thought. But today she was keen to see whether or not a certain three piece suite had been reduced significantly in price. Her lunch hour was going to be spent in checking this out and perhaps ordering it.


She was not the only one planning a visit to the shopping centre that morning. Valentina and Pyotr had dressed as if they might be the employees of any one of the multitude of shops in the centre .They both wore dark suits, hers being royal blue, with trousers, and his being charcoal grey. With the suits, both wore a white shirt, open at the neck. They had bought the suits and shirts in a charity shop, ironed them, and now they looked like typically anonymous office or shop workers. The sort of people who were to be found everywhere in the Central Chilton Maynes shopping centre. They were all set for some intensive plundering of some selected shops. At the end of the morning they pounced. A successful distraction in a high-class jewellery store, the sort of shop where most people only visited a few times in their lives, to buy a wedding or engagement ring. It had been a successful grab, Valentina pretending to pass out, Pyotr snatching a tray of diamond rings and running, then she running in a different direction. She had headed for the doorway of James Morse, the ever-popular department store, knowing that at lunchtime it was always crowded. Many of the shoppers were people who worked in the centre, in their lunch breaks, and they were dressed quite like the jewellery thieves. She would easily melt into the background in there.


Once she was inside the department store, she headed for the corridor leading to the toilets. Just past them there were two more doors, both bearing signs that said "Staff Only". One led into a closet used by the cleaners. She opened the other one and slipped quickly inside. She knew from her past prowling that it was an internal entrance to a loading bay, where furniture and fabrics were delivered. There were mattresses, sofas, rolled-up carpets, all sorts of things that the furniture department sold. Why they were there and not on the shop floor she had no idea. Perhaps they were defective, or had been returned by dissatisfied customers. But who cares, she thought, it was a good temporary hiding place, but she couldn't stay there indefinitely. They would be looking for her soon. And they would have a description. What she needed, she realised, was a change of clothes, to something distinctive. She knew how to get that, she had done it before. She opened the door slightly and peered out. The shop had a public toilet and a constant stream of shoppers passed her refuge on their way to it. She watched and waited.


It was a few minutes before a female of the right size appeared. Valentina thought at first that she was a policewoman. The intended victim, an attractive black haired, blue-eyed woman in her thirties, wore a dark blue jacket and skirt over a white shirt, a blue crossover bow tie at her collar. She was carrying a peaked cap with a yellow band. Like Valentina she was quite generously proportioned in the bust and bottom area. She would do nicely.


Valentina, seasoned by years of fending for herself on the streets of Smolensk, had no worries about tackling a soft English policewoman. Her little friend in her pocket would make sure of that. The policewoman would be relieved of her suit, scared into silence and shut in the store, while Valentina strolled out of the shopping centre and disappeared. Back home, the police were a very different proposition, which was partly why she had left.


It was time to act. She rubbed her eyes hard for a few moments, and held her breath. The purpose of this was to make her seem distraught and tearful. She stumbled out, looked around and went over to her quarry

"You must help us, please. You are police, aren’t you? My friend she has been raped. She's in here. Oh, please, so glad police are here."


Pauline's first instinct was to say selfishly that she wasn't the police, and hurry away, but of course her better nature prevailed. It was annoying though. She was in something of a hurry, having spent too long pondering over the furniture. The price had been reduced but not by as much as she had hoped. She had been looking at the other reductions, but couldn't make her mind up and now she was going to pop into the ladies toilet before returning to the streets, to keep them free from delinquent motorists. But she couldn't abandon a rape victim. Even if I'm not a real policewoman, she thought resentfully.


The foreign woman hurried through the door, Pauline following her. "She was on the floor over there" the woman shouted, pointing across the room. As Pauline turned that way, the woman spun round and slammed the door shut. "Give me your jacket and skirt" she barked."Quick now".

Pauline stared at her speechless. Gone was the tearful manner, and the broken English. The woman strode toward her, brandishing what Pauline recognised as a flick-knife. There was no rape victim. And she was in trouble. "Do it" hissed the woman. "I won't ask you again".


Thoroughly scared, Pauline placed her black leather satchel on the floor and unbuttoned her uniform jacket, passing it on to the woman. Valentina dropped it on a nearby bed. "Give me the skirt, now!" Pauline reluctantly unfastened the skirt stepped out of it and laid it next to the jacket. She stood there cringing with embarrassment, her black panties and dark tights on display, though at least her blouse and tie remained untouched. Thank heavens nobody could see her. She remembered that she was still wearing her cap, so she laid it on the bed with the rest of the clothes.


"What's this about?" Pauline began "I've been tricked because I wanted to help and now....."


"Shut it" Valentina pointed the knife at her middle. Pauline recoiled. She pointed to the nearest wardrobe. "Get in there. Don’t argue, just do it. Or I'll be stuffing your body in it."


Pauline hurried to the wardrobe, opened the door, unlocking it with a small key that was in the keyhole. She stepped inside, having to stoop to avoid the one and only shelf inside. Her captor shut the door and she listened in dismay as she heard the key being turned in the lock. Now I'm trapped, she thought. I've been tricked, and then trapped. But perhaps now the horrible woman would go. Her fear was gone now, she just felt indignant at being treated this way.


She thought about her prison. The key had been small, that suggested that the lock was a puny affair, just there to stop the door coming open on its own. She thought she would be able to force the door easily enough. But she decided to wait until she heard the woman leaving. She guessed that the woman was going to put on her jacket and skirt, then make a hasty exit. Pauline's first priority would be to find the woman's discarded suit and put it on. And the second priority, getting more important, was to head for the ladies for a pee. All was quiet outside for a few moments. Perhaps the woman had gone. She decided to wait a bit longer.


Valentina quickly changed into Pauline's skirt and jacket. They were a size too large, but she would get away with it. She opened Pauline's leather satchel. There was a purse inside, containing money. That would be useful. She counted out £17 in notes and coins. There was a bank card and a cheque book. She stuffed them all into the jacket pocket. There seemed to be nothing else of any use, only make-up, lipstick a folded silk scarf, a pack of cigarettes, just odds and ends. She threw it to the floor. And now it was time for her to leave.


At one end of the store room she could see a big up-and-over door. That would be where the furniture arrived, or left, she realised. There were switches and handles on the door frame, and at face height on the door there was a small clear panel, through which she could see outside. But peering through it, she could see vans, and men going to and fro. It wouldn't be very sensible to go that way. She returned to the other door, the one that she had come in through. She opened it carefully, but with confidence. There was no need to be furtive; she must act as if she was entitled to be there. However, just across the corridor, a policeman and policewoman stood. The woman was talking on her phone; the male constable was looking around. He hadn't seen her. She shut the door hastily, making more noise than she intended.


Inside the wardrobe, Pauline heard the door open, and a moment later she heard it close. Her captor must have gone. She listened for a short time, but could hear nothing. It was time to escape, to batter her way out of the wardrobe, and if she couldn't do that, to make as much noise as possible.


Valentina's silent wait, to give the police time to wander off, was suddenly interrupted by furious banging and kicking on the wardrobe door, from inside. As if that wasn't enough, the woman inside was shouting. "Help, help, let me out" she yelled. Valentina realised that she was going to

attract attention if she wasn't silenced. She looked round. She pulled the silk scarf and handkerchief from the handbag. By the wall there stood some rolled up rugs, they were fastened with plastic zip ties, thick black straps made from what looked like almost like rubber. And a pile of the straps lay on the floor. She grabbed a handful of them and threw them on the bed, next to the scarf.


Knife in hand, she unlocked the wardrobe door. She grabbed Pauline by the wrist, twisting her arm behind her back, dragging her out of the wardrobe. "You couldn't keep quiet, so I'm going to have to shut you up. I could just stick this in you, then you'll be quiet." flourishing the knife under Pauline's nose.


Pauline was scared again, very scared. It was easy to be indignant when she thought the woman had gone, but now, with a knife being waved wildly around in front of her, her nerve left her "I'll keep quiet" she said. "Just keep that thing away from me. But look, I'm only here because I was going to help you. Why are you being so nasty?”


"You will be safe if you shut up and do what I say to do. Understand? Good. Start with you putting that in your mouth" Valentina pointed at the handkerchief.


In a very short time, Pauline found herself efficiently gagged. Her folded handkerchief was held inside her mouth by her silk scarf. This had been knotted in the middle, the knot pushed into her mouth and the ends knotted behind her head. She had noticed with a sinking feeling the pile of straps lying on the bed. They hadn't been there before she was shut in the wardrobe. She guessed she was going to be tied up with them. Tied up quite thoroughly too, to judge from the number of straps. They all looked to be about one metre in length, and about as wide as her finger. There was nothing she could do. She couldn't see the knife, but it was around somewhere, and she wasn't going to risk injury. Just grin and bear it, she told herself. The sooner it was done, the sooner this woman would go away. The bitch is wearing my skirt and jacket, she thought, but she offered no resistance as the woman pulled her hands behind her back, crossed them and wrapped one of the straps round them several times before pulling it tight. She felt the process being repeated with a second strap, then a third. A fourth one was passed round her waist, and pulled tight after being connected to her wrist straps. Next thing, the woman squatted down at floor level and quickly strapped her feet tightly together at the ankles. The woman stood up and looked round.


Pauline tentatively pulled at the straps, and was not surprised that they didn't give at all. There were so many, twisted this way and that, she wondered if she would get free or have to wait until she was found. Who will find me, she wondered. Bound and gagged, without my skirt. Would it be a man, she wondered. She happened to glimpse her reflection, in a mirror on the front of a wardrobe. How ridiculous I look, she thought, how helpless and undignified. But quite exciting for a man to find me trussed up and half dressed like this, she thought. And exciting for me too!


"Keep still" her tormentor hissed."I will leave you a little present, something that will keep you amused."


Pauline felt another of the straps being passed round her wrists. It wasn't pulled tight; she felt it dangling down as the woman stepped away. She watched as the woman took another strap and passed it through the one around her waist. To Pauline's dismay she forced a hand between her thighs and pulled the looped strap through from behind. She passed the end of the strap through the loop, pulled it back up as tight as possible and fastened it.


"Now you won't want to get free, do you?" She grinned at Pauline, and pulled lightly on the strap. Just a sudden jerk, between her legs, but enough to give her an involuntary twinge of excitement. She knew she was blushing. "Every move you make, you'll feel this. You will have such a good time. But now I need to fix you up properly ,so I can leave" Taking Pauline by surprise, Valentina pushed her down onto the nearest bed, rolled her over, face down. She squirmed on to her side, intending to sit up but strong hands grabbed her shoulders and forced her down again. "Stay down or you be sorry" barked Valentina. She gave Pauline's posterior a painfully hard smack

Pauline's protests were muffled by her gag. What does she mean, fix me up properly, she wondered. Looking over her shoulder, she could see her captor picking up another strap. More tying up! How much more could she be tied up. The answer soon came. The strap was passed round her bound ankles, which were pulled up behind her, the strap connected to her wrists and fastened. The effect of this was to tighten the strap between her thighs, and to make that feeling of arousal harder to ignore.


"Now I go. You have a nice day" Valentina whispered. She gave Pauline's backside another hard slap. Then she was gone, closing the door quietly behind her.


Pauline waited for a few moments, just in case the woman returned. Once she was satisfied that she was alone, she tried to pull her hands free, not too vigorously though. Much as she enjoyed the feeling of arousal, she wanted to get free before she wet herself. But even the smallest movement pulled on the strap, and made her feel more moist, more excited. And it was becoming more apparent that she wasn't going to get her hands free very quickly. She looked up momentarily and caught a glimpse of herself in that mirror again .It wasn't that close but seeing herself like that was even more of a turn-on. She concentrated on trying to move her hands around gently, hoping to slip one hand out of one strap at a time. Eventually she had to acknowledge that it wasn't going to happen.

I'm a prisoner here, she told herself. I've been tricked, trapped and trussed up and I'll be here till someone comes in and finds me .That insistent warm feeling between her legs wasn't going away either. Every movement pulled on the straps. She couldn't speak, she could hardly move, but she could make herself come, so she abandoned herself to it. At that point she was unable to hold her bladder any longer, but momentarily she didn't care.


And now it was the middle of the afternoon. She couldn't see her watch, but it seemed as if she had been there a long time. Surely somebody would come into the store soon, enough people worked in the shop. At last she heard movement, a scraping, grinding sound. At one end of the room a big up-and-over door was rising, being opened by the two men in the loading bay. Pauline was facing that way. She made as much noise as possible through her gag, but there was no need, they had seen her anyway. They rushed over, scrambling across the beds. Two of the drivers, those same ones that she exchanged pleasantries with at the roadside. One of them was "that" driver. She always tried to look her best when they were around, to make an impression, and now this had happened. 

Turning bright red with embarrassment, she looked her admirer in the eye. "Hey, Andy, it's your girl friend" said the other one. Andy was blushing too now, and tried to turn sideways before Pauline caught sight of his rapidly developing erection. Her wide-eyed look told him he had not moved fast enough.

"Yes, isn't she a sight for sore eyes. Do you think we should untie her or not?"

"Why on earth not? You can't just stand there gawping at her. Get a grip, Andy"

"Well, I thought you had to leave a crime scene till the police arrived" said Andy defensively. "I'm not gawping"

"Let's just get her untied. We can call the cops in a minute"

Pauline was relieved to hear this, but then he added something that really made her stomach jump."It'll all be on the security cameras, look, there's one in each corner."

She hadn't noticed them before. Oh hell, she thought. It was bad enough that police and security people were going to be watching her being captured and tied up. Then they would watch what she did next. Surely that wouldn't get reported anywhere. She would say she was just struggling to get loose. She hadn't done anything illegal. I'm the victim after all, she thought indignantly.

Andy was staring at the cameras. "There aren't any little red lights" he said. "I don't think they're switched on" Pauline breathed a sigh of relief. He squatted by the bed and began to untie her scarf. He whispered in her ear.

"I'd been wondering how to break the ice with you. Never imagined anything like this though" 





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