The St Valentine's Day Kidnapping
The old warehouse had not been used for business for a few years – well, not a legitimate business at any rate. The company that used it had closed in the 90’s, and now it provided more of a safe haven, somewhere to store items or things while business deals were concluded. It was done very discreetly, very quietly, but if you moved in the right circles you knew where to go, who to talk to, how to arrange these things.
So when the grey transit van drove in, and made its way towards the abandoned offices at the far side, there was no reaction. The driver stopped the car and got out, pulling the rim of his balaclava down over his face as he did so, and opened the side door. Pulling out the rolled up Persian rug, he hoisted it over his shoulder and carried it into one of the quiet rooms.
Once inside, he laid the roll on the floor, ignoring the noise as he did so, and cut the lengths of cord that held it in place with a knife. Gently, he unrolled the rug, and then lifted the woman who was inside onto the mattress that was in place. As he laid her down, brushing her long dark hair out of the way as he did so, she looked up at him with pleading eyes, wondering why she was there...
Abigail sat in front of her dressing table, brushing her hair as she hummed to herself. On the desk next to her was a note, scented with rose petals, that simple read “Be ready at 7 – I have a big surprise ready for you.”
“Big romantic,” she said to herself as she put the hair brush down and stood up. On the bed was a long, deep red velvet gown, with a neckline that left nothing to the imagination, and was her part of the surprise for the evening. She slipped off the short gown she was wearing and looked at herself in the mirror, her black bra and panties complemented by the stockings and garter belt she was wearing.
“This is going to knock him dead,” she said to herself, only to be shocked by a male voice saying “I agree – it is going to knock him dead, and so is the ransom demand.”
Before she had a chance to turn round, Abigail was forced onto the bed, face down, as a large gloved hand was clamped over her mouth. “Listen very carefully,” she heard the voice say, “I’m not going to hurt you if you so exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?”
“MM” Abigail mumbled. “I’m going to take my hand away – put your hands behind your back and lie perfectly still.”
“What is this,” she said as she felt her hands been grabbed and pulled behind her. A length of coarse brown rope was dangled briefly in front of her eyes, before she felt her wrists had been crossed behind her back and the fibres been pulled against her skin. “This is a kidnapping,” the voice said as the ropes tightened around her wrists, biting into her delicate skin, “so shut up and keep still.”
“Oh god,” Abigail whispered as she felt more rope going around her ankles, the thin silk offering little protection as they too were pulled together. She was then forced to sit up, and caught her first glimpse of her attacker a she stood in front of her.
He was a big man – six foot two, broad shouldered, dressed in black with a balaclava over his head. “Now, don’t move,” her said as he deposited a ridiculous number of skeins of rope on the ground, “unless or until I tell you too.” Abigail could only watch, petrified a she methodically and slowly bound her legs together, passing each length several times around her legs before cinching the coils by passing the ends between them. With each length, she felt her legs been drawn together more tightly, from above her ankles, her calves, her thighs and eventually just below her crotch.
“Why the heel does someone want to kidnap me,” Abigail protested as the man took several larger coils and walked round, kneeling on the bed behind her and pulling her back with his gloved hands on her arms. “For money,” he said as he passed one coil around her waist, forcing her wrists into the small of her back as he pulled it tightly, “or something else, it’s all the same to me. Now shut up and sit still.”
Abigail tried to relax, controlling her breathing as more rope went around her midriff, cutting into her bare skin underneath her bra as it did so. Her chest was next, above and below her breasts, forcing them out under her bra as they tightened as well.
“Haven’t you done enough,” she said as he unravelled yet another length. “No,” was his only reply as he fixed this length to the ropes at the back and passed it around her neck, through the coils below her breasts and back again, pulling them up and forcing her breasts out still further. He then used the same length to tighten the ropes by passing it under her armpits and around her neck, before re-checking and re-tightening every rope and coil.
“Who the hell is paying you,” Abigail said as the man walked round, but shut her mouth when she saw him take a pair of panties out of her drawer. Balling them up, he then pinched her breast, forcing her to open her mouth and allow him to stuff them in. A roll of duct tape was produced next, covering her lower face until she winced both at the pulling on her skin and the rubbing of the ropes.
“One last thing to do,” the man said as he took eh last length and doubled it over, before fastening it around her waist. Abigail stood there mutely, wondering what was going on as he allowed the ends to drop to the floor, but screamed as he grabbed the rope and fed it between her legs, back up her bottom and fastened it to the back. As she squirmed, she could feel the rope rubbing against her crotch, and did not know whether to stop or continue, so confusing were the feelings.
They were not helped by the intruder now grabbing her arm and forcing her to hop out of the room, down a corridor and into her main room, where a rug had been rolled out on the floor. The man forced Abigail to lie on one edge, and with a comment of “Enjoy the trip” roll her up in the carpet, covering her face and body, before tying some rope around the rug in various places and lifting it over his shoulder, carrying it out to the van that was waiting outside and ignoring the mute pleading from inside the roll.
“I’ll be back shortly,” he said to Abigail as she screamed through her gag at him. Ignoring her, he walked out of the room and stood outside, lighting up a cigarette as he did so. The silence was broken a few minutes later by another car arriving and making its way across the warehouse floor to the offices.
A man got out, dressed in a blue shirt and jeans with dark glasses over his eyes, and nodded as he saw the other man standing there. He opened the rear passenger door and took the arm of a woman sitting there, wearing a red skirt and jacket but with a pillow case covering her head. A towel had been tied over the case; forcing it into the woman’s mouth by the way it was positioned. Quickly, he forced her to another office, and closed the door behind them...
“I’m going to take the gag and hood off. Don’t scream, or make any sudden movements, understand?”
She nodded and stood still as the towel was taken out of her mouth and the pillow case removed, a sodden stain where it had been pulled into her mouth. She blinked and looked around the storeroom, seeing finally the plain wooden chair that was in the centre of the floor.
“Please,” she said quietly, “My husband will pay handsomely for me, but please don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t hurt you, Mrs Harcourt, if you do exactly what I tell you.” Mrs Harcourt, the woman in question, was in her mid fifties, a larger woman by anyone’s accounts, with bleached blonde hair that fell down her back.
“You’re going to be my guest for a little while, Mrs Harcourt, but I need to make sure you cannot interfere in what is going to happen. So, strip.”
She turned and looked at the man standing there. “I beg your pardon,” she said in a haughty voice.
“I said,” the man repeated as he pointed his gun at her, “Strip – jacket and skirt off, then sit down in the chair and put your hands on your head.”
Reluctantly, Mrs Harcourt unbuttoned her jacket and took it off, letting it drop to the floor as she did so, and then her skirt, before taking a seat as the armed man had told her to do. She sat there in a black bra, a large black belt that covered her purple lace panties and most of her belly, and stocking that were attached to the belt, wondering what he was going to do next.
“You don’t have to do this,” she stammered as she watched him pick up a length of white cord, “I promise I’ll do whatever you say, just please, don’t tie me up.”
“Why – has it happened to you before?”
“Once – when I was a kid, and it has terrified me ever since.”
“Well, they say aversion therapy is a good thing to do sometimes,” the man said as he walked behind the chair, “so shut up and drop your hands it the side of the chair.” Slowly, Mrs Harcourt let her hands drop down, only for him to grab them and pull them behind the chair back, her arms pressing against the wood as he quickly tied them together. She started sobbing as he wrapped the rope around them, before standing up and kneeling in front of her.
Pushing her ankles together, she watched as he bound them tightly, leaving a long end trailing on the floor as he wrapped a second length around her legs above her knees. She wondered what that length was for, before learning as he pulled it back and fastened it to a lower rung that connected the rear legs of the chair, pulling them back and leaving the toes of her designer shoes the only part touching the floor.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she said to herself as she watched him passing a long length over her arms, pulling them into her side and forcing her back against the chair with each pass. He did this twice, above and below her breasts, until she was left unable to move with her arms against her side and pressing into the wooden chair back.
“There now,” the man said as he looked at her, “all nice and cosy. I bet when you left work today, this was not what you were expecting?”
Mrs Harcourt nodded. She had been walking to her car from her office when this man had grabbed her from behind. Well, grabbed is not the right word, more blindsided her as he threw a hood over her head as she went to open her car door, and then pulled something around her face that forced the cotton into her mouth. She had felt something digging into her back, and listened as he said to get into the rear of the car. He then had driven off with her, only for them to end up in this place.
She thought she heard a cry, and said “Am I the only one here?”
“None of your business,” was the only reply as he held up a foam ball. “But you need to keep quiet. Open up.”
“Do I have a choice?”
Mrs Harcourt allowed the man to force the ball into her mouth, then watched as he took a roll of black tape and tore several strips off, smoothing each one over her mouth in turn. When he had finished, she stared at him over the black band, the rope forcing not just her breasts out, but also certain areas she now realised she may have to get rid of somehow.
“Sit tight,” the man said as he left the room, Mrs Harcourt looking at him the whole time.
He walked over to the first man, who offered him a cigarette as they engaged in idle chatter. Another fifteen minutes passed before a red saloon car drove in, and parked in front of them. The driver got out, nodded to both of them and opened the boot.
“Where the hell is he?”
Jane looked again at the town clock, wondering where Dave had got to. It was getting colder, and the white slip dress she was wearing was not exactly conducive to standing around streets at night in. That was especially true when she considered she was wearing a pair of black leather knee length boots fastened with laces up the front – not the best image for a lone girl to be projecting in some parts of town.
Jane turned suddenly to see a woman standing beside her, dressed in a jumper and skirt and looking around.
“I was wondering if you could tell me where Bellini’s restaurant is? I was meant to meet my boyfriend there, but I got lost from the station.”
“At least you know where he is – mine seems it have stood me up. It’s on the far side of the square there.”
“Ah yes, I see now, but I’m afraid I need to ask you another question.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I need you, Jane, to come with me and say nothing. I assure you, the knife you see is quite sharp and deadly, so don’t make a scene.”
Jane looked at the knife that glinted in the evening sunlight, before the woman concealed it under a scarf she was carrying. “This way,” she said as she took Jane by the arm and forced her towards the far side of the square.
“What’s going on,” Jane stammered as they entered a quiet car park and walked towards a red saloon car that was parked in a shadowy corner. “None of your business,” the woman said, “except that you need to come with me.” As they approached the car, she unlocked it with a remote control and opened the boot. Jane could see inside three lengths of rope. “Christ,” she whispered, “Are you kidnapping me?”
“Yes, now, hands behind your back,” the woman said as she picked up one of the lengths of rope and shook it loose. Jane stood still, scared to react as her hands were tied together palm to palm, and then a second length used to secure her arms together below her elbows.
“Right,” she then said as she took a pale blue scarf out of the boot and wound it into a thin band, “open wide – I don’t want you attracting any attention.”
“Please plmmhssgsggs” Jane said as she pulled the scarf between her lips, tying the ends together under her hair, before turning her round and sitting her on the edge of the boot. It took her a few minutes to get her to lie down in the boot, before using the final length of rope to bind her ankles together over the leather. Jane could hear the squeaking as she tried to move them apart and the woman placed them back into the boot.
“Enjoy the trip,” she said as Jane screamed back at her through her gag, before closing the boot of the car and climbing in behind the driver’s seat.
She helped the young girl out of the car, before forcing her to hop towards another of the offices, acknowledging the presence of the other two as she did so. Jane saw then as well, wondering what was going on and where she was been taken, as the door was opened and she was forced in.
Ten minutes later, the woman walked back out and joined the other two.
“How did you get on,” she said as she lit a cigarette.
“Not too bad – the rug was a new twist, but I managed it in the end. You?”
“All right – ah here they come.”
A grey Ford Mustang came in and stopped, as three men got out. The three watched as they approached.
“Gentlemen,” the woman said as they came closer, “we have done as contracted to. Mr Harcourt, you will find your wife in there, while Jane is in the far room. For you, your girlfriend awaits your pleasure in here.”
As the three men walked off, the others returned to their cars. IT had been a profitable evening – but then, kidnapping for fun had made them a lot of money, and when they had been contracted for the surprises this Valentine’s Day, how could they refuse?
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