The Smoking Break




What follows is another incident in the career of Wendy, the traffic warden, an innocent bystander who found herself bound and gagged in "an Unauthorised Withdrawal". In addition to visiting banks when she should be working, she is in the habit of taking a smoking break several times a day. Here she gets some first-hand experience of the Hazards of Smoking





Late in the afternoon on this summer day, Park Street, round the corner from the main shopping centre, seemed deserted, except for a uniformed figure who was there to do her job. The side streets were never very busy on early closing day, so any vehicles on the yellow lines didn't really cause much of an obstruction. But then the shops were all shut and the staff and shoppers had all gone, so that didn't happen very often. Wendy's inclination was usually to ignore them for the first quarter of an hour, because most of them weren't there much longer than that. She couldn't really see why the council had put the yellow lines there. It must have been busier once, she supposed. She spent more time round here than was really necessary on early closing afternoons because she was a smoker. The traffic wardens weren't supposed to smoke on duty, and there was always some malicious motorist ready to report those who were seen. So the passages between some of the unoccupied shops were a handy spot for a smoke.

She was heading for a passage between a paint shop and a florist's, which led to a back yard, surrounded by buildings and not visible from the road. The yard also served premises next to the paint shop, which sold televisions and record players, and of course the shops were all closed this afternoon. It was a great place to spend a relaxing ten minutes. She thought that she deserved these occasional breaks. She was quite conscientious about some aspects of her job, after all. She was in her opinion the most smartly dressed traffic warden at her station, no scuffed shoes or loosened tie for her, and she was scrupulously correct in her dealings with motorists. She had recently stopped visiting banks just before closing time though. Not many weeks ago she had dropped into a local branch at closing time, while she was on duty. She had been caught up in a robbery and had spent the best part of two hours bound and gagged before being freed by the police. Her boss had commented on the fact that she should not have been there in working hours. She wouldn't risk that happening again. There were more queues at lunch time, but no robbers.

 She noticed a dark blue transit van on the pavement outside the television shop. It really shouldn't be parked there, but it could wait until after her long awaited smoke. After all these shop people were pushing their luck all the time. She strolled down the passage to the yard, opened up her black leather shoulder bag and took out her lighter and cigarettes. She pulled one out and lit it. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement in a small window at the back of the TV shop premises. She would have a word with that person about the way their van was parked very soon. Somewhere out the front she heard a door open and shut, followed by the sound of a vehicle door, and a clattering noise. For now though she was content to enjoy the cigarette and daydream about the coming weekend, completely oblivious to the man furtively watching her from that small window.  She was also definitely unaware that her smoking break would last a lot longer than ten minutes.

The watcher was one of a team of two career criminals who chose to call themselves H and C. They had chosen the afternoon of Wednesday for their enterprise because it was early closing day, a time when they knew the shop owners would not be around, so it was a surprise to have any kind of an interruption. H had just unbolted the back door of the shop, and while walking back, noticed out of the corner of his eye someone who suddenly appeared in the yard. He turned and watched from behind the window frame. This could be a problem, he realised.

The trespasser was a traffic warden, about thirty he thought, a plump but pretty redhead. Her hair was pinned up at the back, worn in a fringe at the front. She wore a crisp white blouse with the sleeves rolled up above her elbows, with a navy blue crossover bow tie and a navy blue serge skirt which was just a bit less than knee-length. She was wearing dark tights and sensible black lace-up shoes and on her head was a peaked cap with a yellow band. He couldn't help noticing the way her bust and bottom filled out her uniform. She was very tasty, he thought. She was enjoying a crafty cigarette, out of sight of the road. She wasn't going to be much trouble after all.

They preferred to rob empty premises as there was less risk. But they never embarked on a robbery without taking the necessary equipment to tie and gag people who turned up unexpectedly. Times like today, when they weren’t expecting to find anyone. A good thing they came prepared as it happened, because this woman was probably going to realise they were not the shop owners. And she was in law enforcement, sort of, though not a policewoman. She would have to be brought inside and silenced. Looking her up and down, he thought to himself that it while it would technically be a crime to tie her up, on another level it would be a crime not to. That sort of thing was all part of the fun for a man in this occupation. Any minute now, he thought, her quiet break would be interrupted when C came up the passage with the trolley. She would hear it coming. He noticed her suddenly look toward the passage, then turn to face that way. He opened the door quietly after quickly pulling the ski mask down over his face.

C pushed the trolley into the yard, stopping abruptly as he was confronted by her. Wendy didn't like the look of him. He looked angry. He looked as if he was about to grab her."Just having a quiet smoke, away from the crowds" she said, trying to sound friendly.

"Don't mind us, take as long as you like" said H behind her. She turned sharply at the sound of his voice, recoiling as she saw the mask. She turned back to C, who was pulling his own mask down hastily.

Wendy guessed she was in real trouble and didn't know what to do. Pretend she didn't realise they were robbers? Play the innocent, she thought."I was just having a smoke. Sorry I was trespassing. I don't want to get in your way. I'll go now" Wendy dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it with her foot, then stepped toward the passage. C swung the trolley across to block her way.

"No need to rush off" said H in a jolly tone, which was spoilt by C."You’re not going anywhere" he said sternly. "You'd better go in there instead."

H held the door open for her with mock politeness. She looked around the yard frantically in the faint hope of seeing an escape route. There wasn't one.  The phrase "fight or flight" came into her mind. Neither was an option. She might kick some shins, but she would be overpowered and she would probably get hurt. They were wearing masks; they must be serious criminals who mean business. She would just shut up and do as she was told. Perhaps they would just lock her in, and then go.

She went in reluctantly and turned to face them.

H entered behind her, shutting the door. C stood facing her. She looked at the cardboard boxes containing TV sets, and others containing record players. They were stacked by the door.  Her mouth dropped open and her expression went from puzzled to dismayed as she realised what was in progress. She had at first thought that they were burglars looking for money, but they were plundering the shop of most of its stock

“Oh, I see, you’re taking everything. It's a robbery” as if she had only just realised this. It was obvious that they weren't going to let her leave, at least not yet. There would be no harm in trying to reassure them that she wasn't a threat. “What’s going to happen to me? I’ll do what I’m told, no need to knock me out or anything”.

“Good girl “said H. “we’re going to load up in a minute, and then we'll be gone. We can’t have you running out after us shouting for the police though, can we? And don't worry about us hurting you; we are going to make you comfortable." He glanced at C with a grin.

She looked from one to the other "What do you mean, comfortable?"

C chipped in "What we really mean is uncomfortable. Quite uncomfortable. My friend here is going to tie you up. He's very good at it. We never hear any complaints!" .He turned to H and added. "I hope she's not going to cry. With all that eye make-up she'll look like Alice Cooper."

Wendy glared at him."Don't worry; I’m not going to cry. I’m not a child"

"I can definitely see you’re not a child” said H. She was sure he was leering behind the mask. The bank robber she had encountered had been the same. She had wondered what might have happened then if she had been on her own. It had seemed as if, the moment that her hands were tied, he could hardly take his eyes off her. Seeing the effect she had on him had been a turn-on for her, in spite of herself. And now it was happening again.

She watched as C reached behind him and produced a sports bag, pulling from it a large bundle of white cord

Butterflies came to life in Wendy's stomach. "I had better at least try to persuade them" she thought.  "What if I said I'd stay quiet till you were gone? I needn't give a good description of you. I could just walk out of here and deny having seen anything"

"You know better than that, don't you? You know we can't rely on you not to raise the alarm, you work for the law!

She tried to think of a response. There wasn't a sensible one."Er, no, I s’pose so” she said in a small voice. She glanced anxiously from one robber to the other. At least they didn't look angry any more.

Wendy couldn't stop chatting when she was nervous or embarrassed. “So I’m going to be tied up with all that rope. It looks like yards and yards of it”. She took the leather bag from her shoulder and put it down on the floor. There were nail scissors in there, and it occurred to her they could be useful in getting herself untied.

“Right first time. Clever girl.” said C. He passed a length of the cord to H.

"Going to be helpful, aren't you, no point in being troublesome "H asked.

"Don't have a choice, do I?" Wendy commented sarcastically. "Where should I go?"

"Just stand facing that way" She turned away from him and clasped her hands behind her back assuming that was where he wanted them.

H took her hands and repositioned them with her wrists crossed. "You'd be surprised how much rope it takes to keep a buxom wench under control. I wonder if there'll be enough!" Wendy took this to be an allusion to her physique, but decided to say nothing, standing compliantly, looking down at the floor. She felt the cords being deftly wrapped round her wrists, horizontally, knotted, then vertically, knotted some more. Those butterflies were working overtime now. Now I'm properly captured, she thought. A phrase came into her mind from thrillers she had read. I'm going to be trussed up like a turkey. She felt as if a magic button had been pressed between her thighs. I shouldn't be feeling like this, she thought. I'm a victim in a robbery.

“Not too tight, is it?” he asked jovially. “No, I suppose not “she replied. He pulled the cord tighter while knotting it yet again. “Is that better” he said. She didn’t answer. Everything she said seemed to get her in deeper.

“Just stand still now,” he said as he unravelled one of the lengths of rope, doubled it over and passed it around Wendy’s arms and chest below her breasts.  She noticed that his hands were covered in dust and grime, from the boxes on the shelves. Pulling the rope through the loop behind her back, he wrapped it around several more times, both above and below her breasts, before tying it off. And now somehow her bound wrists had been pulled up so that they were attached to the ropes round her arms.

Wendy tried tentatively to move her hands and arms. It was all she could do to flutter her fingers. She protested.

"Isn't this overdoing it? Wouldn't it be enough just to tie my hands and feet, like villains on the telly?”

"You mean those cop shows. Those people always get loose, don't they, and guys like us get nicked, don't we. You're not in a good position to be complaining"

Wendy was on the verge of saying that in the recent bank robbery, just having her hands and feet bound had been quite adequate to hold her captive for over an hour, but that would just get him asking questions. She didn't want to talk about it. It wouldn't help things here. They would tease her about it. 

  He gestured to the threadbare settee in the corner of the room. “Sit on there, please” She looked disdainfully at it.

"I suppose I should be glad I'm not going to get all dusty down on the floor". He grinned and looked at his hands. Slowly he moved behind her and reached round, clasping a breast in each hand. He held them for a moment, not squeezing, just barely even fondling. Wendy stood wide eyed and open-mouthed, looking over her shoulder. No doubt about it, she felt something press against her bottom. He let go of her breasts and moved to one side. "How careless of me, I'm so sorry to have made your blouse dirty" He exclaimed with mock concern. She didn't know what he meant at first, then glancing down saw with some dismay that her white blouse bore a dusty hand print over each breast. Don't smile or say anything, she thought. She was going to be asked about that when she was rescued, she realised.

He stepped away from her, as if suddenly composing himself. "Sit down then" he said rather abruptly .She obeyed with a sulky look on her face. He knelt by her, pushed her feet together and bound her nylon-clad ankles with the same thoroughness he had applied to her hands. When finished he looked up at her.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know that” she asked with a surprised look

“Trying to be friendly, not threatening. This probably isn’t nice for you, but you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We don’t mean you any harm, you know”

“I'm glad to hear that. I’m Wendy Clarke. No point in me asking your name.”

“I’m Morecambe and he’s Wise”

“Oh, I thought you might be Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. Silly of me” she said. She was almost smiling.

“Been tied up before, have you? You don’t seem too worried”

Wendy had of course been bound and gagged in a robbery a few weeks ago. While on duty she had nipped into a bank to draw some cash just before closing time, when a lone robber has carried out a hold-up. There had been only her and a cashier in the bank. Wendy had been a bit sharp with the cashier, she remembered, and got her come-uppance during the robbery. The robber had ordered the cashier to bind and gag Wendy, and the woman had obeyed very enthusiastically, tying her hands very tight. Much tighter than the robber had actually tied the cashier soon afterwards. And as if that was not enough, they had been found and freed by that smartarse young copper, Steve, who was always leering at her. She couldn't help noticing that he had an erection while he was untying her, and whenever they met after that, he had seemed on the verge of making some suggestive remark.

But she had already decided that there was no need to tell these men about that. “Perhaps I'm not easily worried. I’m not frightened because you say you don't mean any harm. You aren't going to do anything awful to me, are you?” She was trying to reassure herself as well as placating them 

“We’re nearly done now, going to have to gag you before we leave. Sorry, but it’s necessary, you realise that don’t you?”

“I suppose there’s no point in me promising to keep quiet for a half-hour or so?”

“No point at all. If I believed it every time someone promised to keep quiet, I’d be in jail. But it’s OK, it won’t be too uncomfortable. We’re not treating you too badly, are we?”

“No, you are perfect gentlemen. Real smoothies. If you don’t count tying me up, gagging me, touching my boobs”

His colleague pointed at the clock on the wall, impatiently.

“Anyway, we got to go. Time to silence you. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be I suppose” She watched with some interest as he tied a double knot in the length of bandage at the middle. Last time she had been gagged it was with tape. She wondered how this would feel. What was the knot for?

“Open up” he said. She understood and opened her mouth. He inserted the knots and drew the ends behind her head  and knotted them once, then passed them round her head once more to the front, over her mouth again, holding the double knot inside her mouth. He finally knotted the ends again behind her head.

C had picked up the holdall containing the unused pieces of cord and bandage. He had stood watching while H was binding and gagging their prisoner. Now he suddenly got interested. “How many times have people been fined because of traffic wardens? Ordinary guys like me” he said. “It’s nice to get your own backs. Given out lots of tickets today, have you?” Wendy couldn’t answer, gagged as she was. He carried on. “Fifty?” he was looking her in the eye. She shook her head. “More?” she shook her head again. “About ten?” She nodded. He surely didn’t think she did nothing all day. What was all this about? Why didn't they just go?

He said. “I think Wendy should get a good spanking before we go. A smack for every ticket she’s given out. What do you  think?”

He addressed his colleague

"She's a very naughty girl, no doubt about it" H replied, but don't forget we need to get going. You were pointing at the clock just then.

Wendy looked from one to the other in dismay. If they were really going to spank her there was nothing she could do about it, bound and gagged as she was . C sat down next to her. “Do you think you've been a naughty girl, giving out all those tickets?” She shook her head vigorously. This was just too much. “Yes you have. And naughty girls deserve to be spanked, don't they?”


He sat next to her on the sofa. She shook her head again. She couldn't believe this. She wanted to say that this wasn’t fair. Giving tickets was her job. She’d interrupted their robbery and it was fair enough that they had tied her up, she realised. That wasn't even the first time it had happened to her. But why should I be spanked as well, she wanted to say. The man just grinned. “All those tickets. Wendy’s a very bad girl.” He put one hand round her shoulders and lowered her down across his lap, over his knee. She lowered her face, knowing she was blushing. She had never been spanked in her life, but she had often wondered about it. He held her down with a hand in the small of her back, and pulled her skirt up over her bottom with the other. He caressed her buttocks for a moment. "Feast your eyes" he muttered. "Does your bum look big in this?".She felt the first stinging smack, and the second, noticing that he was leaving  enough of a time lapse for her to anticipate the next one. She was grateful that he hadn’t pulled her knickers down, but as she counted the smacks, up to six ,she was beginning to feel more aroused. She didn’t struggle or resist, that would no doubt mean more smacks. (There was a little part of her that wanted to struggle, to prolong the experience, but she conquered this).

He stopped and pulled her skirt down over her bottom. She was raised to a sitting position. He put a finger under her chin to make her look at him.

“You’ll think of this, next time you pick on some poor motorist, won’t you.” She nodded. She knew she was still blushing. Her tormentor stood up.

“Better tie her feet to her hands. Can’t leave her like that, she’ll wriggle over to the window in no time, soon as we’re gone”.

“You’re right. Sorry Wendy, got to finish the job.” They lowered her, face down, on to the sofa and ,after giving her bottom a final smack, fastened a length of cord from her bound ankles back to her belt, pulling her feet up in the air. She guessed that she wouldn’t be able to straighten her legs now.

C picked up her hat, which had fallen off when she was being spanked, and put it back on her head, back to front, “She really  loses that air of authority with her hat that way round, does she not?” Wendy glared up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. I may decide to spank you a bit more, with your knickers down.” he laughed.  She hastily turned her face away from him, blushing again.

They moved away from her and resumed loading the trolley and wheeling it to the van, back and forth, several times. It wasn’t long before she heard the van starting up and driving away.

Wendy shook her head vigorously so that the hat fell to the floor. She felt undignified enough, without a hat on sideways. In spite of herself she still felt aroused..She hadn’t expected to, but she did. It was partly being tied up, especially as they had not behaved in a threatening way, but being put over a strange man’s knee and given a spanking had definitely heightened the sensation. There was nothing she could do about it, and knowing that seemed to make it even more exciting. Oh, if only she could touch herself. If only somebody else would touch her...

 She hadn’t tried yet to free herself..She didn’t know what time it was, but it must be past six now. She should have reported in, but instead she was in an empty jewellers shop, bound and gagged, with a smarting bottom and grubby paw prints on her boobs. It would be light for three more hours..She wondered if the robbers might phone the police or someone, anonymously, to tell them she was here. She could be there all night. But, she thought, when she didn’t report in, the Police would come looking on her round to see why not. One of those young coppers was going to come in here and find her, trussed up on the sofa. She just hoped it wasn't that Steve. At least they wouldn’t know she had been spanked. And how was she going to explain being at the back of the shops smoking.

She decided to say that she had been looking at the van when the gang had dragged her inside and bound her. She realised that from her personal point of view it might be best if they were not caught. Then there would only be her version of events.

It was time to try escaping, she thought, but soon found she wasn't able to make any impression on the cords, in fact the more she pulled against them, the tighter they seemed to get. She didn't want to wriggle around too much because she could imagine herself falling on the floor and injuring herself. She wondered if she could slowly lower herself off it. But then what? Her bag was on the other side of the room, and tied like this it would take more than nail scissors to get loose.

Her deliberations were interrupted by the sound of voices. The front door of the shop opened noisily. The voices were louder. It was the police. A sergeant was giving instructions."You go round the back, Jim, you look in the front, Steve". Oh no, not Steve, she thought.

The door of the small room opened. She turned her head slowly. Steve was standing staring at her, open-mouthed.

"Hello Wendy. We keep meeting like this, don't we". Wendy, blushing, groaned inwardly and turned her face away. He came over to her and rolled her onto her side, facing him. "Got yourself nicely packaged this time, I see. And someone's been handling the goodies." He glanced furtively toward the doorway, and seeing he was alone, reached both hands to grab her breasts.

A voice rang out. "Nobody round here" There were footsteps.

Steve stood up hastily, his mission unfulfilled. "It's OK, she's in here" he shouted.

Wendy glared up at him. "Maybe next time,” he whispered .