The McCulloch Legacy - Part 2











After the armed holdup the police had decided to take the matter more seriously. Obviously there was more to Mr McCulloch's life than they knew. Ann Liddell, the executrix, had found herself in that role because Mr McCulloch had been a cousin of her late mother. She had never heard of him, much less met him, until he died. Now she entertained hopes of inheriting the house. She planned to sell it and was already losing sleep thinking about how she was going to spend the money. Being unexpectedly captured by a gang of robbers had not lessened her enthusiasm, and she had made quite a fuss about what she perceived as police inefficiency. But there was one thing she hadn't told anybody about, and so far as she knew, she was the only living person who knew it.


When, after Ann Liddell, Rachel Robinson and Harry Coombs had finally been discovered, all still bound and gagged, by Harry's manager, Ann had been the first to be untied. While she was tidying herself, before heading for the bathroom, she had watched as Rachel was released from the cupboard. As she peered into the interior she noticed something written on the wall, just before the door was closed again by the manager. Her first instinct was to open the door again to see, but that would draw attention to it. It could wait; she would get back to it. Instead she helped to free Rachel from the web of tape that imprisoned her. Rachel stood in front of her, bound, gagged and blindfolded, but still managing to look stylish in a businesswoman kind of way. Looking at the woman's outfit, hounds tooth jacket with padded shoulders, short black skirt, white shirt, silver necktie, she thought, I could carry off that style. It does not matter that I don't work anywhere. Power dressing does seem to work. It hadn't helped Rachel today, but look at that woman with the two guys who had captured them. They were definitely taking orders from her. She wondered where to begin with Rachel. She decided to start with the blindfold. Ann tried her best to remove the tape carefully. She could imagine the woman’s eyebrows coming away with the tape. But it didn't happen. Rachel's eyes blinked at the light she hadn't she hadn't seen for two hours, and then focused on her. She grunted impatiently, as if she wasn't being untied quickly enough. Ann decided to untape her arms first, and do it slowly. The gag could stay as long as possible.  But now Harry was out of the larder, being untied by his boss. Ann quickly walked over to it and glanced inside. Nothing. But as she looked further inside, she saw a row of jars on a shelf, coffee, pickled onions and the like. And behind the end jar, she thought she saw numbers written on the wall. Behind her, Rachel grunted angrily and stamped her foot. Better get back to her, I don't want to draw attention to this, she thought. Rachel was glaring at her. I'm going to take my time with you, madam, Ann said to herself. She fumbled ineffectively for five minutes, then said "I just can't seem to get anywhere with this tape. Anyone know where scissors might be?"


 As executor, she knew she didn't need anybody's permission to return to the house, but the next few days developments made her cautious. The police had announced that they would keep watch for a few days and had advised the three not to go back to the house without discussing it with them first. Ann was keen to get back and follow up her discovery, but she wasn't going to involve anybody else, so she would wait.  


In the morning, two days later, Sergeant Forsyth and his team had arrived in force with instructions to find whatever it might be that the recurrent burglars were after. As always the force had too many things to deal with and as soon as they had checked the ground floor thoroughly they were interrupted, another crime had taken priority. There was still upstairs, the cellar and the outbuildings to be checked. Then Sergeant Forsyth and the two detectives left, having ordered the two WPCs to protect the crime scene. He had taken the phone call, and the pair had tried to listen in on the heated conversation that followed. When he was finished he walked over to them "Apparently we can't do what we came for, not now. Something else has cropped up. Internal politics. There are insufficient resources, so we've got to return to the station. So you two are going to protect the scene. What can I say? Try not to be insufficient for the occasion. I'm leaving one car with you. I'll call to say I’m coming back, or to call you away. Can't leave just one of you here, but two should be all right. I really want to get this out of the way. Apparently that Liddell woman's husband plays golf with our Dear Leader."


The two policewomen watched as their colleagues drove out of sight, and then looked back at the property they had been assigned to guard. "Protecting the scene of a crime", mused Harriet Drummond. that was the official terminology. "Look at the size of the place!" The property was a seven bedroom house with three storeys, which sat at the end of a fifty yard long drive, which was gated at the road end. There was a two storey gatehouse behind the big house, and another drive led past it, through a gateway into another tree-lined road. The gates were closed and the police Astra was parked outside the gatehouse. And then there were the sheds.


"I wouldn't mind living here" said WPC Sally Stevens. "Probably have to marry the Chief Constable to get it though."


"There'd have to be some kind of compensation for waking up next to that old git" said Harriet. "Do they all turn out like that as they get older?"


"Maybe you'll find out. You know Forsyth has the hots for you, don't you?"


"Don't think so" Harriet said with a dismissive smile. "He took responsibility when I was in a difficult situation, with those glued-up handcuffs, that's all".


"Twice! I was there, remember, I saw the look on his face, and the bulge in his trousers"


"What about when you and I were both tied up in the cell, and he found us" protested Harriet. "He seemed to be turned on then, so it's not just me necessarily, is it?"


"Enough. It's obvious to me, but you won't have it." said Sally. "Let's look round. we might find the missing jewels, or drugs, or whatever is supposed to be here. Let's look in the outhouses"


The WPCs took no notice of the man who walked past the gateway while they were standing on the drive, and they didn't notice again when he walked past the other way, slowly, reading a newspaper. But he was taking notice of them. He observed two policewomen who seemed to be on their own. One was an attractive short-haired brunette in her thirties, a bit short for a WPC, in white shirt with rolled up sleeves, neatly knotted navy blue tie and skirt and black lace-up shoes, and her colleague was a buxom blonde woman , slightly taller, hair pinned up, about the same age and of course in the same uniform. Neither officer wore her hat, which might mean they were here for some time. A police car was on the drive. He would keep watching till the right moment.



An hour had passed uneventfully, the pair having looked round the house, not trying to force any locks and not going in the cellar. "Leave that to the guys" said Harriet. "Look where it's got me, going into places like that on my own. Anyway, I don't know about you, but I'm starving".


Sally agreed. "Me too.  And we both know where there's a fish and chip shop, we passed it on the way. We can't both go though"


"You go, Sally" said Harriet after a moment's thought. "If we do get found out, I'll get more flak than you for going off on my own, because of what's happened in the past".


"Right" Sally laughed. "If you went there would be a robbery at the fish shop and you'd get taken as a hostage, probably be found trussed up somewhere and I'll never get lunch"


"Oh, don't. I've had enough of that sort of excitement for a while"


The man known as C, who sat nonchalantly reading a paper on a bench by the bus stop, further up the road, was very interested to see the police car leave the house and head off in the opposite direction. He pulled out his phone.

"Looks like they've all gone. The two police birds just drove away, just now. OK, I'm at the bus stop. Five minutes".


Harriet emerged from the first floor en-suite to hear the sound of a car pulling up on the pebbled drive. Sally, back already? She went to the landing window She was puzzled at first to see a dark blue Vauxhall Astra. Then as two men and a woman got out, she stood dismayed as she realised they matched the description of the burglars from the previous incident. Why were they back? Obviously, to get what they didn't get last time. Thinking fast, she realised that they may have been watching the house. If they had seen Sally drive away, they possibly thought that there were no police in the house. Butterflies fluttered briefly in her stomach as she realised what would probably happen to her if they found her. Well, that wasn't going to happen this time.


She looked around and decided, as they didn't know she was here, that she could hide, and remain undetected. They couldn't possibly know she was in the house. So long as Sally didn't come back while they were here.


Back in what seemed to be the master bedroom, there was a double bed with drapes that came down to the floor. Underneath would be just the place to hide until they had gone. She had to hide somewhere; these were the people who had tied up Mrs Liddell and her friends. She remembered the precaution that she had learned from experience, and unfastened her handcuffs from her belt. She didn't intend to be unwillingly wearing her own handcuffs in the near future. She pulled open the second draw down in the chest of draws by the window. It contained bed-linen, which had been shoved in untidily. She supposed the burglars, or Mrs Liddell, had pulled it out while searching the house. Great, she thought. She concealed the handcuffs under the linen and closed the door. If they had come to search further, they wouldn't look there again. She glanced out of the window again, and was dismayed to see that they weren't there anymore. Were they in the house? The sound of a door closing, not far away, spurred her on. She quickly lowered herself to her knees and lifted the bed cover. Nothing under there to get in the way, just lots of dust. She would have to endure getting her clothes dusty; the alternative was for her to be discovered. She positioned herself lengthways, facing the foot of the bed. All she had to do now was keep quiet, listen and hope they left before Sally came back.


She could hear muffled conversations downstairs, and the occasional door closing as the three moved about on the ground floor. She wished they would leave; it wasn't very pleasant under the bed. The mattress above her smelt stale and musty, she wondered if the old man had died in this bed. She hastily put that idea out of her mind. There was dust everywhere; she could feel the layer of it that covered the floor. Her blouse and skirt would look quite a mess when she got out.


She pricked up her ears as she heard three pairs of feet coming upstairs. They were talking intermittently and now she could hear some of the conversation. "...gone over it with a fine toothcomb. No statements or anything".


Then another male voice. “Well, if it's not here, why not. Who's got it? That Liddell woman? I shouldn't think she knows about it even existing".


A woman spoke, sounding as if she was the one with authority in this group. "Listen to me now. Lateral thinking is what you must do. We're looking for a safe deposit number. It's not going to be a statement or receipt, we'd have found it by now. Look for a number, scribbled on anything"


Now the voices were outside the room, coming in. "Needle in a haystack, in other words" said one of the men in a frustrated tone.

He sat down heavily on the bed. Under the bed, Harriet blinked as dust descended from the mattress. As she breathed in she realised with dismay that she was probably going to sneeze. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth until the ticklish feeling in her nose died down. But then with her next breath it came back and she couldn’t keep it silent. Almost, just a kitten's sneeze, but she sensed the sudden quiet in the room. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then the covers were all lifted, on either side and at the foot of the bed, simultaneously. On her left, a large man was crouched, peering under the bed.


He grinned at her before speaking. "Better come out, you don't want me to drag you out, do you?"


"I'm coming out, stay calm. There's something you should know". Trying hard to think what to say next, Harriet scrambled out and got to her feet as gracefully as the situation allowed her to. The man seized her by the right wrist and twisted her arm up behind her back, just hard enough to make her wince. "Don't make me break your arm" he said quietly, and as her pushed her to face the wall, in the corner at the head of the bed "Don't look at us" 


"You said the cops had gone" said the woman, a round-faced ash blonde in her late forties or early fifties.


"Saw the car drive away, didn't I? I didn't know one was still here" said the second man. The man who had Harriet in his grip spoke to her. "Where are your mates? You don't have a car, what's going on?"


"That's what I was going to tell you. We have been searching the house. My colleague has taken some documents back to the station" She was quite proud of her spur-of-the moment answer, which was based on the conversation she had overheard. "I'm protecting the scene, they'll be back for me any time now. I advise you to wait with me until they arrive, then you can explain what you are doing here. " She hoped they would run downstairs and drive away in response to this. It stopped them in their tracks for a moment.


"Sod it" exclaimed the woman. "We're too late then"


"You aren't making sense. What were you protecting? Why were you under the bed?


"Wait a minute. I am asking the questions here" Harriet continued, but the man's response was to force her arm further up her back.


"No, you aren't. Why were you under the bed?"


Harriet caved in. Her bluff wasn't working. "All right. I saw you from the window and I thought you might be some people who committed a crime here, so I hid. They tied some people up and took things" She had an uncomfortable feeling that she was out of her depth again.


"That's us" said the woman. And now we have to deal with you. What did you hear?"


"Hear? Not much, under there. I heard you tramping about, why?" She realised that repeating what she had heard wouldn't be wise.


"Where's your handcuffs?" demanded the man behind her.


Harriet thought fast. "We don't all have them now. Only if we expect to arrest somebody, nowadays". He seemed to accept it.


"We got any tape?" He addressed the others.


"No" said the woman disparagingly,” He said they'd all gone, remember. Better cut up some of these sheets". 


Harriet glanced apprehensively over her left shoulder as she realised the implication of this. Once again she had been captured by criminals who were going to tie her up. "No, keep facing that way," said the man, twisting her wrist again.


"Okay, no need to hurt me" she protested. She glared at the wall in front of her, listening as a bed sheet was torn into narrow strips.

Her other hand was pulled behind her back, and both wrists placed in a crossed position while  a strip of fabric was wound round them several times, pulled tight and knotted. A second strip was wound round, vertically this time, tightly knotted, and she knew she was not going to be getting loose in a hurry.


"Seeing as you don't have a car, somebody will be coming for you, won't they. Who's coming, and when?" The woman was leaning close to her now, and she was tempted to look round. "No, keep facing the wall. No lies, please, remember we'll be with you when your mates get here".  


Harriet knew she had no options but to tell the truth, or risk their anger when Sally returned."There's only one, another WPC. She's gone to get us some lunch. After that, we're just waiting for a call. It would be a lot easier for you if you just left, right now". She was grabbing at straws, and it wasn't working.


"Don't worry about us" said the man who had just tied her hands.


The woman had less patience. "Just shut her up, get her tied up and out of the way. We got work to do, and we need to watch out for her mate"


The sound of sheets being torn continued, then the man behind her held a long strip of fabric in front of her eyes. She couldn't help noticing the large double knot half way along it. "No lunch for you" he said mockingly. "You'll be chewing on this. Open up".


Deciding that it was best to be compliant, rather than to risk getting hurt, she submitted to having the knot pushed inside her mouth. The ends were pulled behind her head, round the front across her face again and forced between her lips before being knotted at the back of her neck. It didn't end there of course. A length of torn-up sheet was passed round her upper arm, then behind her and round the other arm and pulled tight, drawing her arms backwards. The long ends were pulled round her front, below her breasts, round behind her again and knotted. Then the process was repeated, the fabric passing above her bust this time, threaded among the bonds round her upper arms. Looking down, she could see her white blouse being pulled tight across her boobs, the lacy fabric of her bra was plainly visible. She couldn't see the buttons because of her tie, but they were probably near to popping. Then something was being tied round her bound wrists, and she felt them being pulled upwards and fastened to the bonds in the middle of her back. All the knots and bonds seemed to get tighter."Don't let her see us" barked the woman suddenly.


"OK, don't panic" said the man doing the binding. Harriet knew what was coming next. A blindfold of torn sheet was wound round her head twice and tied at the back. "Now her feet, and then she's done". Harriet felt a hand pull at her arm, she was led to the bed and pushed into a sitting position. She felt her feet being efficiently bound at the ankles, then the man sat next to her. "She'll do nicely, won't she" he said proudly.


"Nearly", said the woman. "She needs to be hogtied, to stop her wriggling about before we leave. Just use one of the strips, we may need the rest when her mate gets back if we're still here. You see to that, C, we’ll carry on looking on the next floor. And don't be too long, don't get up to anything. You know what I mean". Blindfolded, Harriet couldn't see the look that passed between them or she would have been worried.


Harriet heard the two leave the room, and listened as their footsteps went up to the second floor. Once they were in the room above, she felt the man move, then to her horror she felt an arm round her, then a hand cupping each of her breasts. "Do these need tying some more?" he said. "no, they're fine as they are. I'll get you nicely trussed up quickly or the old bag will be on my case. But first, fun-time". 


He stood up and, placing a hand under her thighs, tipped her over on her back on the bed, then lifted her legs so that she lay across the bed. After turning her over face down, his hand caressed her buttocks. "Has anyone told you what a lovely bum you've got? Plenty to get hold of!". Harriet had been told this a few times, but she had a bad feeling about this man. She didn't grunt or "mmph" an answer, fearing that he would just laugh at her . "Just too much of a temptation" he declared. He pressed one hand down in the small of her back to prevent her from squirming away.


She guessed what was coming next. The hem of her skirt was yanked back. "Hmm, I'm not disappointed" he muttered lasciviously, in a tone that reminded her of Leslie Phillips. A hard smack from a big hand, managing to land on both cheeks, followed at appropriate intervals by eight more. Painful but annoyingly titillating. The knowledge that he was being aroused wasn't helping her to remain detached. She really hoped he wasn't going to put his fingers inside her knickers. But that harsh female voice from upstairs called down. "You finished?" That stopped him. He gave her a final swat, pulled her skirt down, and pulled her bound feet up and back towards her bottom. More torn-up sheet deftly wound, and her wrists and ankles were fastened as close to each other as possible. Painfully tight. Bastard, she thought. Wasn't it enough that he had spanked her, he didn't have to make her this uncomfortable. Then he left the room, hurrying up the stairs to the next floor.


She decided against any attempt at escape, they were bound to check her before leaving. She tried not to dwell on that. More spanking, more groping, she hoped not. She just wanted them to go, then Sally to return, so that she would be freed. It wasn't so long ago that she had thought her job was just a dull plod, but now she could do with a break from the continued excitement. She wished she was telepathic, so that she could tell Sally not to return before they had gone. The trouble was, she had been away some time, and the criminal trio were still rummaging about upstairs. The best scenario would be if the gang went, and Sally came back and freed her soon afterwards. She didn't know if she was too jittery to face fish and chips now, but she'd just love the chance to try. But the worst case was that the gang were still here when Sally got back, and she'd be captured and bound as well. With every minute that passed, that seemed more likely. Eventually she heard them all descending the staircases, followed by the sound of an outside door closing. They must have keys, she realised, to have come in after her. She wondered if they had actually left or were looking in the outhouses.


Outside  the house, H, C and their employer had unlocked a garage and a shed which stood next to it. The shed was obviously used by a gardener and only contained tools and gardening equipment. The garage was more daunting. At the far end was an old sideboard and next to it a dilapidated cupboard. "Needle in a haystack, I think I already said" mused H.


"I'm paying the pair of you bloody good money to look for it, don't forget that" snapped their female companion. "And the more time that goes by without us finding anything, the less worthwhile it seems".


H and C exchanged glances but whatever would have been said next was superseded by the sound of a car arriving, turning on to the drive. All three moved further into the garage. "That policewoman maybe" said the woman. "Get ready to grab her, if it's her. Talk our way out of it if it's somebody else". As the car stopped and the engine was turned off, she peered round the doorway. She saw a well-endowed blonde in white blouse, navy blue tie and skirt, holding a white plastic carrier bag with a cartoon fish on the side. "It's her. Looks like she's got fish and chips, like her mate said".


"I could just murder a portion of that" said C


"She's coming this way. Irish voices, remember"


As WPC Sally Stevens shut the car door, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the doors of both the shed and the garage were now open and last time she saw them they had been closed. Harriet must have opened them up.


She turned to go to the shed, which was nearest to her. "I'm back" she called out. "Lunchtime. Found anything?" At this moment, as she reached the door, she noticed the parked Vauxhall. Her mental alarm bells sounded, but not soon enough. The sound of feet on the pebbles, a big hand clamped over her mouth, an arm round her body pinning her arms tight to her sides. Somebody pulled the bag from her hand. Somebody doing something with her belt, removing her handcuffs, she realised.


A menacing if false Belfast accent growled "You can't beat us. Don't fight or you'll get seriously hurt. Gonna do what I say?"


Sally grunted frantically, trying to sound affirmative, and nodded her head. She was forced forward, into the garage. "Don't try looking at us or we'll have to kill you. I've killed already so I got nothing to lose". The  big hand slowly released its grip on her face.


"You haven't hurt my friend, have you? "

blurted Sally desperately. She tried to struggle but now the man forced her arms behind her.


"No, no, she's kind of incommunicado"


"No, she can't talk to you just now" said another male voice, also unconvincingly Irish.


"Let's make the little lad ready then. Look, this one's got some cuffs" said the woman impatiently. "I know you two enjoy this sort of thing but I'm paying you, this isn't one of your own jobs. Get the cuffs on her for a start. No, hang on a minute. We don't have anything handy to tie her with. Somebody said the cops had gone, remember".


"Right, I made a mistake" said C in a tired tone. "We improvise". He squeezed Sally's arm. "Give us your tights and your tie. Take them off real careful and pass them back to me. Remember there's three of us and one of you, so don't do anything stupid. Understand?"


"Yes, I suppose" said Sally slowly. It was like that time in the cell all over again, but this time she was on her own. She had no option but to obey and hope they would go soon. She carefully removed her clip-on tie, without unbuttoning her collar, and passed it behind her. The next bit was worse. She bent to unlace her shoes, kicked them off and without lifting her skirt any more than she had to, pulled her tights down, pulled her feet from them one at a time  and stood upright, conscious of the eyes of the two men watching her.  


When she had passed them back to her captor, he said "Can't do much with this tie, it's not a real one. One of those clip things for people who can't do ties up properly".


"It'll do as a gag. Roll it up and put it in her mouth. She can do it" the woman was getting impatient now.


"Can't I eat my lunch first at least" Sally asked, remembering with some indignation that she had just spent money on it. A last clutch at a straw, if they let her do this it might just delay her binding and gagging until reinforcements arrived. She envisaged herself throwing hot food in their faces and running away.


C laughed and gave her bottom a slap. "Looks to me like you should lay off the fish and chips for a while, love. We're doing you a favour. Now just do it" C pushed the tie back in Sally's hand. She looked at it. She rolled it up as small as could be done, fortunately the fabric was thin. She wanted to shout at them, to say how silly this was, but she didn't want to get hurt. She pushed the balled tie into her mouth, well aware of how ridiculous she looked. Before she could dwell on it, her hands were pulled behind her again and the unforgiving Hiatt handcuffs were clamped on her wrists. Now I'm really captured, she thought, can't do or say anything.


"I'm taking the keys with me, so you needn't bother fumbling about for them when we've gone" he said.


"What's the best way with the tights?" said the woman, addressing nobody in particular. H, who had been opening draws in the old sideboard while watching Sally being "dealt with", spoke up suddenly.


"Problem solved. Roll of brown tape. Sort they do parcels with. Not much left, but enough for one lady, even a cuddly one, ha ha.

Here, catch". He threw it over to C


Sally wished the tie wasn't stuffed into her mouth, she would have told them what she thought of their bullying. "I love doing this" said C. "I don't like cops, it's not often you get the chance to pay them back for all what they've done to me. At first Sally didn't quite comprehend, hearing the tape being torn, but then a strip of it was slapped across her lips and firmly pressed down. This was quickly followed by a second strip. Then she felt it being wrapped round her ankles, forcing them together, making her wobble unsteadily. This didn't go on for long before the tape was cut and he began to wrap it around her upper body, first below her breasts then above them, strapping her arms tightly to her sides.


The woman spoke again. "Come on guys, I've let you have some fun but we haven't got all day. Put her on the floor and finish trussing her up. We’ve got to find the, er ,what we need to find". Sally noticed that her voice wasn't as snappy as earlier, but she was dismayed at the thought that the trussing up process was not complete. On the other hand, they didn't want to say much in front of her, so at least they weren't going to kill her.


"What about the tights? I just thought of a fun thing to do. Shame to waste them ,don't you think?" C wasn't going to be deprived of his fun that easily.


"Put her on the floor and make sure she isn't going anywhere, then you can do whatever you want with the bloody things" She was getting impatient again. Sally suddenly felt herself being pulled backwards and lowered to an undignified sitting position on the garage floor. It got worse. She was forced to the ground and turned over onto her front on the dusty floor. "Don't look up at us" growled the man, the same man who had sounded quite jovial a few moments earlier. She hastily pressed her forehead to the ground. To her dismay her skirt was pulled up over her bottom, her black frilled panties were pulled down to her thighs, and she received twelve hard and loud slaps on her buttocks. The smacks stung so hard, she could have screamed but for the gag in her mouth. Then suddenly her skirt was pulled back down, but to her horror her panties were left down. More tape was being wrapped round her ankles, then they were pulled up towards her bottom and fastened as closely as possible to the handcuffs with a mass of tape. Then something tight was being pulled over her head and down over her face. The hands adjusted it. She could just about see through it, and she realised with a sinking heart that it was her tights. She heard the tape being pulled from the roll again, then all went dark as it was wrapped tightly round her head, again and again, over her eyes and mouth.    


"That's her taken care of. Doesn’t she make a cute little present for somebody, wrapped up like that. Satisfied?" The question was aimed at the woman who was clearly in charge, Sally knew, but the next remark was for her. "Don't feel hard done by, officer. Your mate upstairs has had her bum spanked as well. Fair shares for all!".


"Had your fun?" asked the woman. "Now let’s find the treasure".


"Anybody going to eat this?" she heard one of the men say. He had the bag with the lunch, and she noticed he had dropped the accent now.


Sally heard them walking away and began to pull against the web of tape that enmeshed her but stopped when she heard the woman laughing. She didn't have much dignity left but she wasn't going to entertain them by trying to get loose and failing miserably. "Best of luck with that" her tormentor sneered. Then the garage door slammed.


Sally lay quiet and still  for a few minutes. She couldn't see or speak and could hardly move at all, and she was going to stay like that until she was found, she realised. The way the cold hard concrete floor felt through her blouse did not encourage her to move. Much as she hoped that rescue wasn't far away, she dreaded being found like this, cuffed with her own handcuffs, her tie stuffed in her mouth and her tights pulled over her head, her eyes and mouth taped. She remembered when Harriet had been rescued after being captured by Mrs McKinnon and her accomplice, she had been detailed to help Harriet while she was waiting to be freed from her jammed handcuffs. She had helped the handcuffed Harriet in the toilet and couldn't help noticing that  her colleague's bottom was very red. She had guessed then that Harriet had been spanked, but hadn't dared to mention it. Her thoughts drifted forward to the moment when eventually, Sgt Forsyth and the others would turn up and find her. Would they guess that she had been soundly spanked, like a naughty schoolgirl? She cringed with embarrassment at the thought of her workmates all staring at her before starting to release her. Her only hope was that Harriet, who must be trussed up in the house somewhere, might get free and find her first. She couldn't help thinking that in reality Harriet was completely helpless somewhere and desperately hoping for Sally to come to her rescue, and both of them were going to be disappointed. The more she thought about that, the less likely it seemed. Harriet had after all been captured and left tied up on five or six occasions and had never managed to free herself yet. She struggled ineffectually in helpless anger for a moment, in spite of knowing how pointless it was. The worst of it was that she was starting to feel turned on by it all, now that the danger was over.


Upstairs, Harriet had been able to hear the sound of Sally arriving by car, and at first she thought that rescue wasn't far off. That hope was soon banished when she heard the voices of her captors as well as that of Sally. Then there was a long silence. Harriet didn't know what was going on, but she imagined that Sally was being trussed up like herself, somewhere downstairs. This was followed eventually by the sound of a door slamming, one of the outbuildings. Shortly afterwards, she heard a car engine, but it wasn't the Police car. And it drove away into the distance. Now they were alone.


So Sally wasn't coming to untie her after all. Sally had been captured and was almost certainly trussed up in the shed or the garage, most likely gagged and blindfolded too. She wondered if Sally too had been spanked. One thing she had learned in the last few months was that most male robbers seemed to get a bit frisky when they had a helpless WPC as a prisoner. And every time it happened, she had found it a bit more arousing than the last time. Like now! She remembered reading an article about experiments with sensory deprivation, and that was how she felt now. She couldn’t see or speak or touch, but she could anticipate being touched. And that feeling between her thighs that wouldn't go away. What would happen if Eric Forsyth arrived now, alone, and found her like this? Lying here fantasising was the only course of action that was open to her. What if it was Richard Gere, or Bruce Willis who found her? Not as gallant rescuers, but as lecherous opportunists. She imagined the scene. Hands were untying the torn-up fabric that held her ankles to her wrists behind her back. Whoever it was straightened her legs out and began to caress them.  Then the unseen man, if it was a man, lulled her skirt up and exposed her bottom. Without a word he began to spank her enthusiastically. She imagined the big hot hand stinging her bottom. She wondered if, rocking slightly from side to side, she could reach an orgasm on her own. His position changed and she was lifted into a sitting position. The fantasy hero swiftly placed her over his knee and pulled her knickers and tights down, half way down her thighs. "Bad girl" he whispered in Bruce Willis's voice. "You really been a naughty little girl" he switched to Robert De Niro. She imagined her bottom receiving a really serious spanking, interrupted by interludes in which his fingers explored her moist vagina. She wasn't going to orgasm though. He kept stopping at exactly the wrong moment. Don't hold back, she thought. She imagined the man untying her ankles, placing her face down on the bed, a mound of pillows under her waist. He jumped onto the bed and forced her legs apart. She heard him unzipping his trousers. He was going to do it, and get away with it. Helpless Harriet had no choice but to endure it or enjoy it.


The dream was interrupted by the sound of cars coming into the garden, screeching to a stop on the pebbles. Doors were slamming.  Willis, De Niro and company evaporated. She let out a sigh of exasperation. Voices! Sgt Forsyth, shouting "Drummond. Stevens. Where are you?" Soon he would be in the room. She decided that this particular fantasy would become reality. She wouldn't ignore Forsyth's advances any longer.


"The door opened, she heard it. Footsteps stopped in the doorway. "You all right, not hurt?" Harriet grunted an impatient affirmative. "We can't go on meeting like this " said Forsyth in an enquiring voice."Or maybe we can. What do you think?".















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