Farm Tales







“Good morning team,” Natalya said as shew walked into the conference room at the Farm, “so who do we have resident here at this time.”


“Four guests,” the team leader said as she turned on the wall mounted television, “here for a variety of reasons.”


“They all seem to be secured well,” Natalya said as she looked at them, “so where shall we begin?”


“Room one – the model is the girlfriend of someone Madame requires – persuading to do some work…”


“That’s a wonderful pose, hold it right there!”


Katya smiled as she posed for the camera, holding the Gucci handbag in one hand as she stood with the other on her hip.  It was snowing lightly, the light flecks landing on her black fur-like jerkin she was wearing over the black leather mini dress.  The hem of the dress came down half-way on her thighs, a black lace border visible over her  black tights, while her legs sat on a  pair of high heeled over the knee leopard skin patterned boots.


“Great work Katya – lunch break everyone, back in an hour,” the photographer eventually said as the crew gathered round, Katya herself heading with a small blonde haired woman to the large caravan parked nearby.


“Why did Annie pick today to call in ill,” she said as she stepped inside.


“I don’t know Miss Katya,” the blonde said, “all I know is that NorStar called the agency and asked me to come out.  I have your lunch there for you, and I’ll prepare your coffee now.”


The model nodded as she sat down, eating the Cob salad as the assistant went to a coffee maker and turned it on.  A few minutes later, the assistant brought over a mug of coffee, the model nodding as she picked it up and took a drink.


“At least it is my usual blend,” she said with a sigh as she put it down, “when is the car coming to take me to the show tonight?”


“Four o’clock Miss Katya,” the assistant said as Katya ate some more salad, blinked, and then took another swig of the coffee.  She put the mug down, blinked again, and then looked at the blonde as her vision started to blur, and slowly her eyes closed.


“I’m so sorry, Katya,” she said as she moved the table, and laid the sleeping model out on the couch, checking her pupils and pulse, “but I’m afraid that boyfriend of yours is having some difficulty accepting my employer’s request, so you need to come with me.”


Opening a black bag, she drew out a length of rope and wrapped it around Katya’s ankles, securing them tightly together as the rope went around and between her legs, and then a second band was tied round her legs below her knees.  Sitting her up, she took off the black jacket, and then lay her face down, crossing her wrists against the small of her back and then lashing them together with another length of rope.


The door to the caravan opened as a second woman in a cleaner’s outfit came in.  The blonde Sat Katya up as the cleaner produced a coil of rope, and used it to lash her arms to her sides, while the blonde took a roll of white tape and wrapped it round her head.  Listing the unconscious Katya between them, they carried her out and placed her in a laundry basket, the blonde watching as she was wheeled away…



“As you can see, she is secured in the room,” the blonde said as they looked at the monitor, the model on her side struggling in the hogtie, “and the message has been sent to the boyfriend.”


“Excellent,” Natalya said as she turned to look at the table.  “Room two?”




“Clara, do you have the scripts ready for the next shoot?”


“Right here, Dick,” Clara said as she handed the director the freshly printed sheets.  As the secretary, accountant and chief bottle washer for his small “independent studio” as he called it, Clara knew the films he made were for a specialist audience, but why he insisted on the office outfit she was wearing she could not quite understand – she was only glad she got to wear a long trench coat to cover the clothing to and from work.


Her ling dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and fell down her back.  She was wearing a black bra and panties – the bra visible under the black lace blouse she was told to wear, the panties barely covered by the black leather micro-skirt.  The outfit was completed by a pair of thigh high black leather boots.


She watched the boss walk off and shook her head, turning back to the computer and typing again.  He was into one of his “true crime” stints – film after film of women been tied and gagged by masked intruders for the predilection of his clients.  Why she had no idea, but…


“Excuse me – are you Clara?”


She looked up to see two women standing there, one dark skinned with red hair, the other blonde, smaller, slim.


“I am,” Clara said quietly, “how may I help you?”


“Well,” the redhead said as she produced a gun from inside her leather jacket and pointed it at the woman, “you can help by sitting very still, hands palm down on your head, and doing what we say.”


“Oh my god,” she whispered quietly as she slowly complied, the blonde walking to the door and looking outside before she closed and locked it.  Coming back, she took a length of black cord from her own jacket pocket, and walked behind Clara, taking her hands from her head and crossing her wrists behind her back before she tied the young woman’s wrists tightly together.


“Who are you,” Clara whispered quietly as she looked at the redhead.


“Not really that important,” she said with a smile as the blonde held a gloved hand in front of Clara’s mouth, and she saw a folded white cloth in front of her in the blonde’s gloved hand, “what is important is that you open your mouth now.”


2but why are you…”  Clara looked at the two women, but their faces were set, as she slowly opened her mouth and felt the silk a sit was pushed into her mouth, closing her lips over it as the redhead took a roll of white tape from her pocket, and tore the end free, a squishy sound reaching her ears as the edge was pressed firmly over her cheek and the tape wound tightly round her head.


“Check the way out,” the blonde said, Clara watching mutely as the redhead unlocked the door and looked out, then motioned as the blonde helped Clara to her feet and walked her out of the room.  It was a surreal moment – unable to do more than mumble mutely, she wondered why nobody was in the corridor as the two armed women walked her down the corridor, out of the door and into the back of a van.


Inside, the redhead took a long length of rope and wound it round Clara’s arms and upper body, forcing her arms into her sides and then taking the rope round her body so her chest was framed.  After she was made to sit down, the blonde secured her ankles and legs below her knees, Clara hearing the squeak as she twisted her legs round.  The blonde than sat in the back of the van as the redhead left, and the van moved off.


Which left one question in Clara’s mind – actually two.


First, why her?


And secondly, why was she enjoying this?



Natasha looked at the screen, as Clara twisted on the bed, and said “her boss made the call?”


“Indeed – he wanted her to experience what she had been typing up.”


“And does she know this?”


“She will by the time she leaves here – she deserves that much.”


Natasha smiled and nodded as she looked at the third screen…



Tara looked at herself in the changing room mirror, twisting from side to side as she looked at herself.  The white jacket was stylish, and certainly offset her tight black mini dress.  The dress hugged her body, her legs in natural hose and in a comfortable pair of over the knee black suede boots which were tightly laced up the front. 


“Yes, I think I will take this,” she said quietly to herself as she tossed her dark hair – and then saw the figure behind her.  It was a female, but clothed from head to toe in grey.  Literally from head to toe – a hood covered her head, and she wore grey gloves and short boots.


The only part of her that was not grey was her face – white, featureless, only the holes where her eyes would be visibly different.  The women looked at Tara, her head cocked to one side, as she slowly turned round and looked at her.


The woman looked at Tara, and then put a gloved finger to where her mouth should have been, and then motioned for Tara to turn round.  “Why?” she whispered, but the woman just shook her head slowly from side to side, and indicated she should turn round again.


“Okay,” Tara slowly whispered as she turned, looking in the mirror as the woman draped a long length of brown rope over her shoulders, falling down her body to the floor, and then started to wind the rope around her arms, pulling them back behind her and then securing them together as the dark haired woman watched.  It only took a few minutes, and then she wriggled her fingers as she felt her arms been pulled up her back, the masked woman feeding the ropes through a small loop at the base of the neck and pulling them back down, before she separated and wound the ropes around her upper body.


Tara could only watch as her upper arms were forced into her sides, her jacket been pulled to the sides as the ropes framed and encircled her chest, before they were tied off behind her back.  She could only watch then as the woman took a red sponge ball in her gloved hand, compressed it and held it in front of Tara’s mouth.


“You…  You want me to have that in my mouth?”


The woman slowly nodded, Tara swallowing before she opened her mouth, the sponge gently pushed in and expanding inside her mouth, forcing her tongue down as she mumbled “hnddnhwht?”  To answer, the masked woman turned her round, and pressed a strip of sticking plaster over Tara’s mouth, and then opened a door in the back of the room.  Taking Tara by the arm, the masked woman walked her down the corridor and out to where a black car was parked, the boot open.  Pointing to it, she waited as Tara sat in the boot, and then lay down, looking at her as the boot was closed, and the car moved off…





Opening the door, the woman walked Tara in and indicated she should sit on the bed, the bound and gagged woman doing so as the captor then picked up a long length of brown rope, and wound it round her legs, securing them together below her knees and then taking the rope down to bind her ankles together.


A second rope was tied round her waist, the ends in front of her before she was helped to lie on her side.  She felt the hand going between her legs, pulling the rope through and up as it rubbed between her legs, before it was secured to her arms.  She felt the rope on her legs tighten as her ankles were pulled back, and then gasped as they were tied to the crotch rope, the masked woman looking at her before she left the room, Tara smiling as she wriggled round…




“She wanted to be kidnapped by a China Doll?”


“Indeed, Natalya, she did – we cleared it with them first, so no problems there, but that was her request, and she is paying well for the visit.”


Shaking her head, Natalya smiled as she said “very well then, our final guest?”


For a sixty year old, Grace looked amazing with her long blonde hair styled into soft curls.  She also had the body of a woman half her age – but the business style of a harridan, despite her looks.

She sat at the table as her board of directors talked around her, not paying much attention – whatever they decided, she was going to do the exact opposite anyway.  The designer leather dress she was wearing was designed like a wrap dress, with short sleeves and a wide belt tied round her waist.  She was also wearing a pair of over the knee leather boots, made from white leather with a black snakeskin pattern, the heels razor sharp and thin.


One or two of the board looked at her as they said something, but she just nodded as she yawned.  The meeting was boring her, as she stood up and said “thank you everyone, I will communicate my decision in the morning.”  She walked off, her designer handbag over her arm, the board watching as she left the room, and then looking at each other.


Walking down the corridor, Grace paid no attention to the staff and other people passing her – she was the boss, and that was all that mattered to her, even as she walked into her office – and then opened her eyes wide as she saw her secretary in a chair, tied tightly to the chair with rope, a knotted scarf pulled between her lips as she looked over.


“What the…”  Before she could say anything, Grace was taken further by surprise as a gloved hand was pressed over her mouth, and she felt a small disc pressing against her back.


“Don’t say a word, don’t raise the alarm – do exactly what we say, and nobody gets hurt, understood.”




“We’re the women kidnapping you,” a second woman, dressed in black with a pair of dark glasses covering her eyes, said as she stood in front of Grace, a pistol in her gloved hands.  “Questions?”




“Nope, from what I gather, this is a fair approximation of it, so you have a choice – cooperate, or we knock you out.  Which would you prefer?”


Grace glared at the woman, and then slowly nodded as the hand was taken away, her hands pulled behind her back as she felt thin cords been wrapped round her wrists.


“So which of my rivals has arranged this?  You may as well tell me whhhhmmmmssss…”  The ropes were tied off between her wrists, and then a knot of silk was pushed into her mouth as she realised she was been gagged with her own Hermes scarf.  She glared at the woman who just smiled as more rope was tied round her arms and chest, forcing them into her sides as she wriggled round.


Walking to the side of the room, the woman pressed a hidden button, the secretary watching as the door to Grace’s private elevator opened up.  Nodding to her, both of them watched as Grace was frog marched to the lift.  The two women stood either side of her as the secretary watched the door slide over.


A minute later, two of the board came into Grace’s office.


“Have they gone?”


The secretary nodded as she was released from the chair, the scarf eased form her mouth as the wet knot fell on her white blouse.


“Sorry you had to do that, but I think it was worth it.  You’ll have a month’s wages as a bonus.”




Natalya nodded as she said “Madame will call to talk to her later, to explain the situation and allow her to sign the papers.  I think she will find the terms reasonable, and her staff will be happier.


“Thank you everyone – to your tasks…”









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