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.?????????
?
?