Marie's Motoring Misadventures - Chapter 2, 1983.
In the car park of a railway station, a buxom brunette in her mid thirties watched with some satisfaction as three businessmen headed for the platforms. Her last passengers today having been dropped off, Marie McDonald was going to head for home. She would drop in at the office first, then that was it for the day. She was quite pleased with the way her day had gone, so far. Hiring the big Rover and its driver was expensive, so she never met any of the drunken oafs that a common or garden taxi driver had to contend with. And because she was in her mid-thirties, the ones who might have been flirtatious with a younger girl tended to leave her alone. She didn't know that her day was about to go downhill, starting quite soon.
On the other hand, Bank cashier Louise Walker was having a terrible day. She'd had an argument with her husband over breakfast, and although they had patched up the quarrel, she had missed her bus and arrived ten minutes later than she planned to. She was the senior cashier (head cashier was how she described her job to her friends) and she was something of a control freak. She liked to do the early morning tasks in a specific order, and when she couldn't do that she felt flustered all day long. Like today. As if that wasn't enough, the branch manager had not returned from lunch. He had visited a small factory which was a client of the branch, and had phoned Louise at two-thirty to say he was suffering from migraine. She had been duly sympathetic and respectful on the phone, but she knew it was the kind of migraine attack which struck after spending a lunch hour with a grateful client. Leaving me to run the show, she thought resentfully. It was just as well that Sally, Lucy and Rachel were up to the job of handling the customers, leaving her to field the phone calls. There always seemed to be more of them when Mr Andrews wasn?t around. The first caller was that Mr Mulcahy, the estate agent, who wouldn't take no for an answer. This put Louise in an even worse mood.? And finally, as the time approached when the doors would be locked, the unthinkable happened. At 3.27 pm, She glanced at the wall clock, pleased to see it was nearly time to shut the public out, and out of the corner of her eye, had noticed three people coming in. It was unusual at that time of the afternoon. More unusual was their appearance. All were men, all wearing denim jackets and jeans, and even worse, they all had dark stockings pulled down over their faces. She realized immediately what was happening, but there wasn't anything they could do. She had been caught up in a bank robbery once before, and she knew the procedure. "Do what they tell you, don?t try to be heroic. The cash can be replaced but you can't." She had done what she was told then, and nobody got hurt. It had caused her no end of embarrassment though.
It was ten years earlier, and Louise (a "Miss" in those days) had been working into the early evening helping her manager with some month-end figures. Four robbers tricked their way in by claiming to be looking for a gas leak. Once they had the cash in their possession, they set to work making sure the two bank staff couldn't raise the alarm for a while. The manager was forced to sit on one of the cashier's chairs, his hands tied behind the back of it, his feet tied separately to the legs. More cords round his body fastened him firmly to the chair. Two strips of white adhesive bandage in an X-shape over his mouth ensured his silence. Louise stood watching, not daring to move, unable to suppress a slight tingle of excitement, knowing she would be tied up as well in a moment. But there was only one chair in the store-room. She guessed she was going to be left on the floor. Resigned to her fate, and realising she was going to be late home, she was as compliant as she could be while they bound her. First her hands were tied behind her back, while a second man taped her mouth with two diagonal strips of tape. More rope was passed round her chest and arms, pinning them to her sides. The man had given her boobs a gentle squeeze as he did this, grinning at her as he knotted the cords. Then, while she was still standing, the other robber dropped to his knees and bound her stocking covered ankles together.
"Thinking what I'm thinking?" he said as he got to his feet, glancing from Louise to her manager and back again.
"Why not? Let them have some fun. They didn't have a chance to get up to anything before we came, did they?" He thought for a moment. "What's it going to be then? Sitting on his lap, or face down over his knee. I bet he'd love to give her a good spanking".
Louise froze, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. If only she could just wriggle out of the ropes and run away. She had recently read about spanking being a part of foreplay for some people. She found the idea really titillating, but she hadn't dared to mention it to anyone, especially her husband.
The second bandit won the argument. "On his lap. Over his knee would be funny, but it'd take too long. I'm not even sure how we'd do it" She breathed a sigh of relief. Being found by rescuers in either position was bad, but over his knee like that would be dreadful. She'd never be able to look him in the eye again.
She looked at them in dismay, but she was helpless as they lifted her off her feet and carried her across to where Mr Fraser sat. He looked worried as well, behind his gag. Louise was a lady of small stature, only five feet tall, but self conscious about her size, because someone had once called her dumpy. Because of her size it was easy for the men to sit her on Mr Fraser's lap, sideways, so that she could look him in the eye. They quickly roped her into position so she couldn't wriggle in any direction and couldn't fall off. That meant more ropes round her chest and thighs, more furtive fondling of her breasts and bottom .Did this happen every time a woman got tied up by robbers, she wondered.
The gang checked their ropework and left through the front door, one of them calling out "have fun" as they went.
Louise looked her boss in the eye, aware that his face was uncomfortably close. They? had sat her on his lap, and her bottom was against his genitals. She was uncomfortably aware of some increasing pressure, as his erection grew and grew. How embarrassing! When the rescuers turned up, she was going to be found, bound and gagged, blushing and perspiring, sitting on the knee of her also bound and gagged boss.
And she had been right. The ribbing had gone on for months. "She's a bit tied up just now", that sort of thing. Everybody made a joke of it. Now it was going to happen again.
Thinking back to those days, she realized that a lot had changed. None of her workmates from those days were still there now. And ten years earlier, there was no uniform. She used to wear a variety of smart suits and dresses, now it was these white blouses, royal blue bow ties and skirts. She felt a bit like a traffic warden or a policewoman. One thing was the same, she was in a bank that was being robbed. And she was going to be tied up!
The gang had followed what, unknown to her, was their regular robbery procedure. The smallest, or oldest female member of the staff was ordered at gunpoint to bind and gag all of their workmates. So, fifteen minutes after their arrival, she was kneeling on the floor next to Sally, Rachel and Lucy. These three all had their hands tied behind their backs, their feet tied at the ankles, and were silenced by strips of brown parcel tape wrapped round their heads, covering their mouths. And all of it was Louise's handiwork. She had tied them as tightly as she could because she had been ordered to, at the point of a gun, and she didn't want to make the robbers angry. She felt horribly guilty, they would blame her, she could see it in their faces.
"Do a good job on them, or you'll be sorry when we do you up" one of them had said.
"I'm so sorry about this" she had whispered to Sally while she was tying her hands behind her back. But Sally hadn't replied, hadn't returned her desperate conciliatory smile, and one of the men had barked "don't talk, or you really will be sorry".
Now they were all securely tied, it was her turn. She was aware of her bound colleagues all watching as the masked man with the rope squatted down, took her hands and guided them behind her back. She couldn't help thinking the girls were enjoying her discomfort. She could have refused to tie them up, but it would have made the robbers mad, who knows what might have happened. They didn't understand that, they just thought that now she was getting her just desserts. One thing was certain, she was being tied tighter and more securely than them. She gasped at the speed with which her wrists were bound tightly in a crossed position in the small of her back. Much more skilled than she had been, tying up the girls. To her surprise, he passed the rope round her arms above her elbows, round her body a few times, above her breasts and then below them. She hadn't tied the others like this. Something told her it wouldn't be a good idea to complain. She noticed with dismay that this process was making her breasts protrude, it almost seemed like her blouse buttons might pop open.
Next, he was binding her feet together at the ankles, while she was still kneeling. Then she felt him tying the cord round her wrists again, and she guessed her hands and feet were tied together. She was going to be lying down there with her feet bound and sticking up in the air, like some farm animal. And then, as expected, a length of brown parcel tape was pressed into place across her mouth and wound round her head.
The man spoke up, suddenly. "Your mates don't like it because you tied them up. They think you're getting off light, we can't have that. Don't want them thinking there's been favouritism ".
Did he mean the ropes round her arms, or the ones tying her hands to her feet? Or was she going to be ill-treated in some new way? Her worst fears were soon confirmed. Louise frequently used an office step to help her reach the highest shelves, and the man had spotted it, not far out of reach. He pulled it across and placed it in front of her. At first she didn't understand what he was going to do, but when he took her by the shoulders and lowered her, so that her tummy was resting on the step, the penny dropped.
This can't be happening, she thought. I'm going to be spanked in front of my workmates, women who I have to supervise. It must be a bad dream. She tried to squirm away, but the first hard smack on her bottom deterred her. "Keep still, or you'll get twice as many" he chuckled. "Don?t think I won?t" Another smack, then another and another. His hands were big, enough to sting both of her buttocks with one slap. Louise felt like crying, more from embarrassment than pain.
Rescue came from an unexpected source. The third man, who had been in another office, reappeared. "Come on!" he shouted. "It's always him. Can't keep his hands off them" Louise's tormentor moved away from her, trying to look as if he was coming anyway.
"Just checking the tying" he said nonchalantly.
"Yeah, yeah" said the other."It's always the same, whenever you've got a fat bird tied up, you have to smack her bum. Can't help yourself, can you?"
Louise couldn't quite make out what the muttered reply was. She knew she was blushing, though. Who wouldn't? Tied up, spanked in front of her team, and described as a fat bird. She was so angry. The men left, in a hurry now. She was still bent over the step. Could she move without falling clumsily to the floor? A thought crossed her mind, prompted by the robber?s remarks .How many more women, innocent victims of robbery, had been tied up and spanked by this man? In some respects it was reassuring to know it wasn't only her. But then she thought about the reality of the situation. The robbery would be in the newspapers. Everyone knowing she'd been tied up in a robbery, that was going to be bad enough, but all her friends reading about her being spanked as well? She just had to make sure none of the girls mentioned it, when they gave the police their statements. What if the gang was caught, and it came out at the trial?
Realising that she was starting to panic, she deliberately stopped thinking about that. What the papers would say, that was a problem for another day. She had to slow down and think rationally. Glancing at her bound colleagues, she was aware that they weren't panicking. They were not moving, she was surprised that none of them was struggling to get free. It was her who had tied them up, of course, and she had done it to the best of her ability, under duress. What else could she have done? And she was no expert, they should be able to get loose. She was the only one who had been bound by a professional, as it were. The one woman here who had the least chance of getting herself untied. But I'm supposed to be in charge, she thought, oh, what's best. Start by trying to get my hands free, but if I move too much I will fall flat on the floor.
While Louise and her workmates struggled in vain against the ropes that held them, the gang, masks removed, was setting off in their stolen van. Marie was going to meet them very soon, and she wasn't going to enjoy the experience any more than the bank staff had.
She was a bit uneasy about the way the car sounded this afternoon. Nothing that the passengers would have noticed, but she had definitely heard and felt a misfire. She just hoped that nothing worse was going to happen, before she got back to the showroom. One of the guys could check it over, she would use another car tomorrow.
The car wasn't going to wait that long, though. Three miles out of the town, almost halfway through the journey, it happened. The temperature gauge caught Marie's eye, the needle was moving up from its usual halfway position. She slowed down, as nobody was close behind her, and is she did so, she noticed steam coming from under the bonnet. The more she decelerated, the more obvious it was. She wasn't going to make it back to base. But Marie wasn't completely helpless where cars were concerned, so she looked around for a place to stop. It had to be soon, she daren't go far like this. There it was, a dirt track at right angles to the road, just before one of those nice rural bus shelters. Quite a solid affair, made from breeze blocks. There was an estate agents signboard at the corner of the track, advertising farm premises for sale with immediate vacant possession. So nobody was there. Good, Marie said to herself, nobody will come out and ask what she's doing. On the other hand, farmers had tools, and liked to impress women motorists with their mechanical knowledge. At least, the ones she had met did. It would be good if one did turn up. As the car spluttered ominously, she turned off the road and cruised down the track, halting where the track turned into a forecourt, not too close to the house. She had just remembered that farms sometimes had big unfriendly dogs. She opened the door and slammed it again, just to see if a watchdog came rushing out. She was quite pleased with herself for thinking of that, especially when no dog appeared. The silence and the Estate Agents sign made her wonder if there was anybody here at all.
As she seemed to be the only person around, it was obviously safe to get out and fix the car. She had an idea what the problem was, she associated these symptoms with a broken fan belt. And there was a tried and tested remedy, a short term measure, but it would get you home in an emergency, she had been told about it years ago, and she had even done it herself once. The way to fix it was to use a nylon stocking to make a temporary fan belt. And Marie had not moved with the times. Most women,? by the 1980s, wore tights as part of their everyday attire, but, having grown up with stockings and suspenders, she had stayed faithful to that look. It made her feel cooler and fresher, a nice feeling when you spend most of your working life in your car, and of course, she was well aware of the effect it had on those male friends who were privileged to find out about it. But by way of precaution, she always had a pack or two of nylon stockings in her glove compartment. Today could be the time when one of them kept her car on the road.
Her diagnosis had been right. The fan belt had gone, and as she looked back along the lane, there was no sign of it. Well, at least she knew what had to be done, but she was going to get her hands dirty. She gathered together all the things she would need, the packet of stockings, the socket set, the box of tissues for her hands afterwards. Ready to start. She rolled her shirt sleeves up past her elbows, neatly because they would stay up till she got home and changed, and flipped open the lid of the socket set. At no time did she have that feeling that she was being watched.
If Marie had been susceptible to such feelings, she might have been aware that she was being observed from the unoccupied house. The fourth gang member had stayed behind at the house, so as to cope with unexpected situations, situations like this one. As he was armed, and any unexpected visitors probably wouldn't be, he was well equipped to deal with them.
He wasn't sure about the new arrival. The driver opened the door and slammed it shut, then sat in the car for a few minutes. There was steam coming from under the bonnet and around the front wheels, so maybe the car wasn't capable of leaving. But then the driver got out, and he saw that it was a uniformed woman. An attractive, full-figured brunette. She must be some sort of chauffeur, he thought. She wore a dark grey pinstriped waistcoat and skirt, with a crisp white blouse and a sort of black floppy bow tie. Nice legs, he noted, although she wore flat shoes. She had the bonnet up and was looking inside. He couldn't see what she was doing, but she stood back, rolled her sleeves up, then went to the boot and returned with a blue metal box. A tool box, he realised. If she was going to repair the car, she might be gone before his mates got back. Not very likely, though. The phone in the house, still connected, had rung four times, (the signal that the bank job was done) a good ten minutes ago. She would have to work fast to be gone before they came. He took the small torch out of his pocket, ready to flash twice as they appeared at the entrance. This was a prearranged signal, one flash meant "all clear" two meant there was a problem. No flash at all would have warned them to get away fast, because it would mean their man wasn't there anymore.
Obviously the woman expected to be driving away soon, or she wouldn't be doing whatever she was doing under the bonnet. He just hoped it worked. She could easily be dealt with, but it would complicate things. Their plan was to swap vehicles, ditch anything incriminating and then leave the area, with nobody knowing they had been there. But if the guys came back while she was there, everything changed. She would have to be captured, prevented from telling anyone about them, at least until long after they had gone.
And then it happened. There they were, at the entrance to the lane. He spotted the van as it appeared and suddenly came to a halt. He lifted the torch and flashed it at them twice. After a moment, there was a flash of light from inside the van. Only a spark from a cigarette lighter, good enough to tell him his signal had been seen. He could see some movement inside the van, but it was too far away to see exactly what was going on. Then both doors opened and the three robbers spilled out, all of them with their masks back in place. Time for him to join them.
Marie was peering into the recesses of the engine compartment when she heard a vehicle pulling up not far away. Somebody coming to ask why she was parked here, no doubt. Surely they could see that, with the bonnet up, she hadn't planned to be here. She didn't look up when she heard the vehicle door open, but she was suddenly aware of the
Three figures striding towards her. As she looked up she was horrified to see that they all had stocking masks pulled down over their faces. She stood up and moved away from them, thinking about running. Where could she go? It was too late anyway, they surrounded her. She looked from one to the other, unsmiling faces pushed into grotesque shapes by the stocking masks. Were they trying to scare her or was it the masks that made them look threatening? A fourth man, also masked, was approaching.
A sudden flash of inspiration came to her. They can't be after me, she thought, I'm not supposed to even be here. "The car's broke down" she said, giving the nearest thug a disarming smile. She had no way of knowing, but they had already had the conversation about what should be done with her, while they were hastily putting their masks back on.
"Not your lucky day, is it" said one, while another, less friendly, said "Shut it. Get her inside". The stocking was snatched from her fingers, the stocking that was going to replace the lost fan belt. One of them took Marie by the arm.
"What are you doing?" she shouted" I haven't done anything". She really didn't know what was happening here, but it didn't look good. It was starting to remind her of the time, a few years ago, when she was caught up in a wages robbery.
"Get her tied up, before she starts making too much noise" barked one of them. "Do her hands and get her inside" The man who was holding Marie grabbed her other wrist and pulled both her hands behind her back. He forced them together and wrapped the nylon stocking round and round her wrists before knotting it tightly.
"Owww, that's too tight" she wailed, knowing as she did so that they didn't care. It was tight, though, just like in that wages robbery. Her reward was a hard slap on the bottom, which made her jump.
"Shut it if you don't want some more of that" was the reply. Marie suddenly realised how helpless she was, and how easily that threat could materialize, so she allowed herself to be hustled quickly toward the house. Only a few steps though, before one of them, the one who had been in the house, said abruptly "Hold it. Don't let her see. Don't take her any further"
"What do we do, then?" one of the others said querulously. "Got any ideas?". The other man turned away.
"Wait there" he told them as he turned and went back into the house. Marie was still held in a firm grip, the man behind her holding both arms. What was it that she mustn't see? She realised that she had wandered into something, some crime scene, and would they let her go? They wouldn't have tied her up if it was going to be that easy, would they?
The masked man soon returned, holding a bundle of multicolored fabrics. As he got near, Marie saw that he had brought some scarves. Silk scarves, two or three of them, hence the clash of colour. "Found these hanging in a wardrobe, must have got left behind. Just heed to stop her seeing anything". Marie tugged in vain against the stocking binding her hands, but the nylon seemed to get tighter. Not only that, but the man gripping her arm turned to her and growled ?You are in enough shit, don't make us mad" in a tone that left her in no doubt that she shouldn't provoke them. But she didn't want to endure whatever the scarves were for. She remembered only too well the time a few years earlier, when she and her passengers had been hijacked by robbers. Whenever she talked to friends and family about that, she made it seem like an exciting episode, but now she was recalling how scared she had been. It was the uncertainty, being bound, gagged and blindfolded, not knowing what was going to happen. And then of course, when she thought they had gone, someone who she couldn't see had given her a good spanking. She hadn't ever mentioned that to any of her friends, too embarrassing. She wondered if that experience was ever going to be repeated. Today, even. She stopped herself from thinking about it! But the man was smoothing out one of the scarves, folding it in half along its length. She tried to pull back as he stepped towards her, but when he said "if you don't see anything, we can let you go soon. Otherwise..." he drew his fingers across his throat. Marie shuddered.
One of them laughed. "Don't scare her too much, look at her face. She's going to cry in a minute" Marie hadn't realised how she must have looked. She wasn't about to cry, but that gesture, meant to intimidate, wasn't it? "Just a security precaution " the laughing robber explained. "Stand still and it will be easier for you".
Marie offered no resistance, closing her eyes as the scarf was placed in position over them, then knotted tightly at the back of her head. She couldn't see anything, just a little light at the lower edge of the scarf. Even so, the man took the unnecessary measure of doing the same thing again with another scarf. She felt him moving the edges of it, and then all of the light was gone. What was it that she mustn't be allowed to see?
"Now, we got work to do, remember. She's an interruption, but she won't make much difference. Get her fixed up inside, for now", Marie didn't like the sound of that. Fixed up? She was bound and blindfolded already, what else did they need to do with her?
"I'm not going to do anything, I'm only here 'cos my bloody car broke down" Marie protested, struggling in vain against the nylon at her wrists. The hand gripping per arm pulled her to one side, she had to follow blindly, realising she might fall over.
"There's a step. Lift your foot over it" the voice ordered. She managed the step without tripping, only bumping her toe in the process. She could tell that she was indoors now. She was led a few more steps, then something was pushed against the back of her legs.
"Sit down" said her attendant. Without waiting for her to comply, he pulled her back by her shoulders, forcing her on to the chair. A hard wooden chair, the sort that goes with a kitchen table, she realized. Her captor took her bound hands and, pushing her forward, lifted them up then drew them down behind the back of the chair. She shuffled her bottom on the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position, but he wasn't finished yet. She recoiled as an unseen pair of hands grabbed her feet and forced her ankles together. "Keep still. You won't get hurt, just making sure of you. We weren't expecting you to be here, so we got to decide what to do. Just don't give us any trouble, right" said the .?
Marie knew she had inadvertently turned up at the scene of some crime. Of all the rotten luck. The car breaking down was bad enough, but now she'd been captured and tied up by a gang of armed villains. Maybe she could talk her way out of it. Worth a try, she thought.
"Look,? she began. "I'm not here by choice, I only pulled in here because my damn car's broke down. I don't know who you are and what you're doing, and I don't care. I just want to go, I won't say anything about you tying me up". She suddenly had a bright idea. "Look, my fan belt broke, I was going to fix it temporarily with a stocking. I bet you know about things like that. What if you guys fix it for me, and I'll just drive off and no-one will know we ever saw each other"
While she was speaking, he was winding some cord around her ankles and pulling it tight, and he continued doing this while she was speaking. He didn't reply, but she felt him doing something under the chair. He was still tying her feet in some way. She soon realised that he had bound her already tied ankles to a crossbar between the chair legs. Now he was passing the cord under the chair, up to and around her bound wrists and fastening it tightly. Her hopes fading, she still continued " What do you think?"
"Here's what I think. I wasn't going to gag you, I thought you might have the sense to keep it shut. What d'you think?" Marie was already trying not to dwell on that robbery, years ago. That had been worse, she had been gagged then. And, of course, blindfolded, she had been given a good spanking by somebody who she couldn't see. She hoped nothing like that was going to happen this time.
"I'll keep quiet" she said sulkily.
"Great" he said "makes my job easier". There was no humour or reassurance in his tone. Marie sat quietly as he set about the task of meticulously binding her to the chair. Several yards of cord were left over from trussing up Louise and her workmates, and now it was all being used up on her. When the job was done, he commented, some humour in his voice this time. "A real professional job, if I do say so myself. It?s a shame you can't see it." With this he left the room, presumably to join his mates. Marie heard a door close, followed seconds later by another one.
As he had said, she couldn't see, but she was aware of how thoroughly she was fastened to the chair. He had passed more ropes round her upper arms, pulling them closer behind her, and just in case the stocking binding her wrists wasn't enough, he had tied a few loops of cord over it. There was cord over her thighs and under the chair seat, a bit unnecessary, she thought, I'm hardly likely to fall off the chair. But at least, she thought, I can't be spanked while I'm tied to the chair like this. It felt as if most of the rope was round her body, from her shoulders down to her waist, passed under her arms and pulled tight round them, above her breasts and below them, ( he had taken the opportunity to fondle them briefly while positioning the ropes, but she had said nothing. She didn't want to tempt him into doing anything worse.). It was obvious to her that they weren't planning to let her out of the chair in a hurry. At least she was on her own now. She wasn't going to get loose, that was obvious, but she wasn't going to be groped either. Bound to the chair like this, she wasn't that vulnerable, she thought, not while she was sitting down. She had expected them to question her, but then she remembered, she had told them twice how she came to be there. It was obvious that they didn't want her to see any more than she already had, so it made sense that they didn't want her near them. But what about when they left? They wouldn't leave her tied up in here, would they? The place was empty, she could be here for days.
As she thought about the immediate future, she realised that if they did leave her here, she would be reported missing. Back at the office, they would be calling the police eventually. The gang couldn't move her car, not without repairing it first. But she might still be here for hours, and it wouldn't be pleasant. What if the place caught fire? Not much chance of that, if the place was empty. The power would all be turned off. Having thought of that, she was reassured, but only for a moment. Something settled on her cheek, a fly perhaps. She couldn?t see anything, of course. She shook her head violently and the offending insect flew away. A few seconds later it was back, settling on her nose this time. She shook her head again, angrily. How much longer was this going to go on? It didn't return, but the incident started her thinking. There could be spiders around. Quite likely in an empty house. The way she was trussed up, spiders could crawl all over her and there wouldn't be much she could do about it. They could spin webs over her. Ugh! She was tied so securely, it was all she could do to twiddle her fingers. She tried not to think about spiders, and being left here overnight. Instead she strained her ears to listen to the gang. She could hear male voices, and vehicle doors closing. What were they doing. She thought about what she had seen. The masked men had arrived some time after her, but there had been somebody else there already. They must have carried out a robbery, she realised, and been using the empty farmhouse as a base, just for today. That must be it, she thought. They hadn't come out equipped with masks just to capture her, it had just been her bad luck to interrupt them. But that didn't mean she was safe. Did they think she knew too much? What would they do with her? But, they had made a big thing about blindfolding her, she hadn't seen them, and she heard them mention another car, she hadn't been allowed to see it. Why would they harm her, she couldn?t tell the police anything, she didn't know anything.
Marie tried to reassure herself. Imagine you are a criminal, she thought, a kidnapper. You only blindfold a captive if you mean to set them free, don't you? Because they don't know what you look like. But then she recalled scenes from films, where people were blindfolded before being executed. Those historical dramas about Anne Boleyn. She quickly pushed that image to the back of her mind, and tried to think positive. Surely they wouldn't, would they? She wasn't worth getting a life sentence for, surely. And in truth, she didn't know anything about them, so letting her go wouldn't be a risk. But now, all the sounds seemed to have stopped. All except one. She could hear footsteps approaching, heavy male ones. There was a rush of cooler air as a door near her opened.
She knew there were two men in the room with her. "Need a hand?" said one of them. "No, I'll manage her, she's not that big. Let?s get her out of the chair first" replied the other one. Marie could feel their hands, unfastening some of the cords round her.
"What are you doing?"She asked meekly, trying hard not to sound worried. Were they going to set her free?
Her hopes were dashed, though. "Keep it shut, love. You want to be gagged?"
"No", she muttered quietly, crestfallen. She wanted to ask questions, but she knew not to push her luck. In no time, the ropes around her body were loosened and removed, then they unfastened her feet from the chair legs. Then they stopped. Marie had hoped that she was being set free, but her hands were still bound tightly behind her back, and her ankles were still bound together. It dawned on her that she wasn't being set free, merely moved somewhere else. This was as close to being free as she was going to get, for the time being. Unseen hands took her by the arms and lifted her into a standing position, rather unsteady because her feet were tied. She was briefly afraid she might fall over, but that wasn't a problem for long.
She was completely taken by surprise when she was grasped round the thighs, lifted from her feet, a hard shoulder against her tummy. Her head flopped forward, she knew she had been picked up in what she knew as a fireman's lift. She had been lifted this way before, for fun, at a fire station open day. But then, she had known it was coming, and she wasn't tied up. The man strode off, with Marie slung over his shoulder.
"Hey, what are you doing?" She shouted, forgetting how vulnerable she was. She immediately regretted raising her voice, but of course it was too late.
A heavy hand landed a hard slap on her bottom. "Warned you, didn't I" said the man, his voice more amused than angry. "It's a pity we're off now, I'd give you a good spanking. But this will have to do" Marie, guessing what was coming, tried to wriggle to one side, but the second smack on her bottom stung just as much as the first. More, in fact, because it landed on the same spot. She was on the verge of muttering a resentful apology, whatever it took to stop her backside being smacked, when another voice spoke. It was another of the gang, directing operations.
"Hold it there for a moment, we'll call you out when the road's clear" said the voice. Where was she being taken? Why did it matter if the road was clear? The man carrying her stopped walking. She couldn't see anything, but she could visualize herself. Out in the open, on the drive leading to the farmhouse, the man standing, watching something, and her, bound hand and foot, and blindfolded, slung over his shoulder like a sack. At least nobody could see her, apart from the gang.
" Come on" the man muttered. She knew he was talking to himself, not expecting an answer. To her surprise, he gave Marie another smack across the buttocks. She had been about to speak, but the slap reminded her of what a precarious situation she was in. She gritted her teeth and didn't react at all. It made no difference, he gave her bottom? another smack. "Just glad I've got you to keep me amused" he said quietly. But her ordeal was interrupted by a voice from the direction of the road.
"Okay, come on". ??? Marie's tormentor broke into a brisk walk. She counted twenty two steps before he stopped, but during that walk, Marie's backside received four more hearty slaps. She managed, through all this, to say nothing. The bastard obviously got some perverse pleasure in spanking a helpless woman, but she knew that reacting in any way would probably encourage him to do more. She hoped desperately that he wouldn't lift her skirt. If he saw that she was wearing stockings and suspenders he would probably take more liberties with her. She tried not to think about that.
She hadn't been able to see where she was being taken, but she guessed she wasn't far from the bus shelter. Her suspicion was confirmed when the man carrying her spoke, to a colleague who she couldn't see. "Help me get her down on the bench" he said. Now there were two pairs of hands, on her arms, legs, shoulders, bottom. "put her lying down, facing inward. Then I'll take the blindfold off". Marie was unceremoniously dumped on her side on the hard bench, and rolled forward against the wooden back. She recoiled from an unpleasant smell, coming up from behind the bench.
"You sure about the blindfold?" asked the second voice.
"Sure, it'll be all right. She won't look up till we've gone. Here!"He was talking to Marie now, he made this clear by giving her another smack on the bottom."You won't look up till after we've gone, will you? If you see our car, or us, we'll have to silence you for good. Won't look, will you?"
"No, I won't, I promise" Marie blurted out. Just go, leave me alone, she wanted to shout. The fingers were fumbling with the knotted fabric at the back of her head. Suddenly it came away, she could see daylight. The slatted back of the bench, up against her face.
"Keep looking down, till you hear us driving away. Understand?" he emphasized his point with another smack to Marie's buttocks, not unexpected by now
"You bet" she said. A silly thing to say, she thought. But he stood back, without turning she heard them walking away. No final slap! She kept her eyes closed. As if they could see!
But then she heard the vehicle pulling away. A big van, diesel by the sound of it. She was on her own now, not exactly free, but able to try to attract attention. Tugging her hands didn't achieve anything, the nylon had pulled tighter. It was obvious her hands were going to stay tied behind her back till somebody found her. But what about her feet? She couldn't remember if the knot was at the back or the front. She had already been blindfolded when her feet were tied.
Carefully, slowly, she pushed over onto her back, then over on her other side, fearful of rolling too far and tumbling onto the concrete floor. She lowered her feet to the ground and struggled up into a sitting position. She shook her head, unsuccessfully trying to get a lock of hair away from her eye. Her hair would be a mess. She glanced down at herself. Her waistcoat was hanging off one shoulder, her white blouse was smeared with dust from the bench and her skirt was dusty. The bow tie of black ribbon had come undone,? the ends hanging down untidily, although her blouse was still buttoned. And, even worse, the knots (there was more than one) that bound her feet were at the front, where her fingers wouldn't be able to reach them.
What could she do? She was sitting in the shelter with her hands and feet bound, and no way of freeing herself. The interior of the shelter was in shade, and cars were speeding by, not looking her way. But if they did, what would they see. A woman sitting on the bench with her hands out of sight behind her back. Her feet were tied, but the passing traffic weren't noticing. Could she get to her feet and hop or shuffle to the kerb, and if she did, what would happen? More cars flew by, their drivers focused on the road ahead. She could sit here all day and not be noticed. Those who did glance toward her didn't spot anything amiss. It would almost be better if she was still blindfolded, at least it might be noticed.
With some trepidation, she raised herself from her sitting position to her feet. She was grateful for the flat shoes. Gingerly, she shuffled forward, one step. It wasn't so hard, she didn't fall over. She continued carefully,? making slow progress toward the grey metal pole of the bus stop. But she still had to attract the attention of someone.
And then, the one thing she hadn't thought of happened. A double-decker bus came around the bend in the road, the driver slowing down as he noticed a potential passenger at the stop. On a whim, Marie turned her back to the road and fluttered her bound hands as vigorously as she could. Looking over her shoulder again, she saw the bus driver staring open-mouthed. At last she was going to be rescued.
Steve Collier, bus driver, hadn't seen a tied-up woman before, in the flesh, though he often fantasised about them. And now, out of the blue, here was one. An attractive brunette, about his own age, standing at the bus stop. Conveniently posed with her back to him, her bound hands in plain sight just above her plump bottom. His inclination was to sit there staring, but he had better do something. He opened the driver's door of the bus and climbed out, hoping that his growing erection wasn't going to be noticed.?????????