Trapped by an Unsuitable Filming Shoot

 

 

 

The job had been soooo easy! Nothing goes as smooth as it had went that far, there was always a last minute adjustment, but it hadn’t seemed to be the case for her in that job.

 

Until forty-two minutes earlier. Something just ‘had’ to get wrong!!!

 

Not that she was unprepared for ‘inconveniences’...

 

She could handle noisy neighbors, she could handle postmen/women, and repairmen, meter ladies, delivery guys, nannies and kids, co-eds that stopped by to study with the now tied up owner of the room/house/apartment, plus cable dudes, relatives and dates.... name it, she had at least once to deal with them. She once even had to handle with a coplady, and had left the arrogant bitch tied up upside down in the same closet that the real owner of the house was enjoying a tight ‘hogtie’ a it was called (she knew the position very well, having used it about a dozen times, but never had knew its name until a couple of weeks before).

 

She was, after all, the best person in the whole state to deal with inconvenient data and the ways to get them or get rid of them. ‘Simply the best’ like in that Tina Turner’s song.

 

She was scarcely hired to deal with industrial/legal data. Love letters were the stuff she usually had to recover the most, second came photographs and (more recently) mini-movies, usually spicy and even porn... but not like those of the wife of her client.

 

She looked at the pictures, then at the large crowd that was blocking her escape, then at the pictures again. In a way, that was really art... The photographer that owned the house always tried to put something more in the pictures she made, even for customized jobs that (like this one had been) left aside since the promised pay never came.

 

The first set of pictures started with one that showed a white woman walking naked on a desert road somewhere, it was in black and white and showed her from behind running on her bare feet into the sunset. The composition and the light were good, and the fact that the model was a good actress and, looking from over her left shoulder, managed to show as much fear as the photographer had wanted gave it a great aura...

 

And helped to identify her perfectly even with that ball jammed into her mouth and held there by that strap. And the picture had at least fourteen years, but she had seen her client’s wife on that charity event two weeks before (when she had been hired by him).

 

She hadn’t changed one bit. Some girls had all the luck... or was it thanks to some surgeon?

The second set of pictures reminded her of her days as the regular ‘damsel in distress’ when her brothers and their friends played ‘cowboys and indians’, how many times she had been tied to a pole, and then ignored as her brothers and friends engaged in ‘furious’ shootouts? One hundred, perhaps two? But of course, she had never been tied up in the buff!

 

And not like THAT!

 

The only garment that the then amateur model was wearing was a pair of stilettos with the highest heels she had ever seen in a shoe, totally unpractical and quite dangerous to wear. The girl’s feet were practically resting on the tippest tip of her tiptoes... on the vertical! She was almost sure that the roping had been influenced by John Willie’s Sweet Gwendoline, not that she was into that, but when her client told her more or less what she was expected to find (and peruse in) she got curious (it would probably be – as it has – the first that she would bind and gag someone that was regularly paid for it) so she did some research and bought a few books... and the girl was bound exactly as JW had drawn his most famous character in the cover of that about Sweet Gwen!

 

Well, except for the fact that Gwendoline was blonde and was dressed in the drawing, it was a perfect match! Three or four hundred feet of rope ensuring that she was and would remain tightly tied to that pole in the middle of a backyard, a large OTM gag that engulfed all her lower face from below the nose and... tears? Seemingly real ones...

 

The third set was the only one in color, and it was probably the most dangerous for the client’s political career. Not only his wife was using an Old Glory patterned excuse of a string bikini (that she lost due to a very erotic ‘wardrobe malfunction’ in the course of the shooting), but she had been bound with a rope that was red, blue and white at the same time (and where did they managed to find such thing?) and was standing against a giant Texas State flag during most of the shooting! His Texan Christian ultrapatriotic conservative base would NEVER EVER forgive him if this set came to public!

 

The fourth and last set that the then ‘not exactly poor but....’ girl had posed to showed her in a very conservative (obviously 50’s style) white set of underwear – but why was she wearing those white opera gloves? - in what seemed to be the search (through all the rooms of a large house) for something that she could use to free herself.

 

She would never ever tie up the arms of a girl as her arms were bound in the pictures, too ‘artistic’ to work properly (or did it really worked?) for her likings.

 

The pictures showed her hopping around, looking for help with very pleading eyes, fighting her tight bonds, standing ‘precariously’ in her incredibly high heels (that were tied to her feet), peaking in drawers, worming her way (while seated) through the stairway... and they showed her from all angles (it was the longest set with over 200 pictures!) until she was found by the ‘big bad burglar’ that had bound her, who then threw her over his shoulder and ‘took’ to an unknown fate. She showed so much despair in those last ones (except for one picture in which it was clearly obvious that she was laughing under that OTM gag) that she almost felt sorry for her. Yeah, sure. Those legs, those firm and round breasts, those incredibly emotive eyes, those bank accounts that she had today...

 

Pity for her... sure!

 

 

WHAT WAS THAT???!!!!

 

Oh yeah, the film shoot that was happening outside was about a car chase that would end up badly, with a big crash between three or four cars and a bigger explosion. They had closed both sides of the street, had all the support that they could from the local city hall (meaning two patrol cars with four cops to help them) and had attracted all the neighborhood’s attentions for a full week and had had the perfect shoot a couple of days before, then some technician had lost the whole footage of the explosion and they found themselves having to redo everything, and she found herself trapped inside a house with three bound and gagged women not daring to go outside until all that people was long gone! And now they had just exploded three cars about six hundred yards at her left.

 

It was too risky for her to go outside when who knows how many cameras were being used at the time. There were the professional cameras of the filming crew, and of the people that was filming the ‘making-of’ of that movie, and of the reporters (of the press, web and TV) that were covering the shooting. Plus, there were the usual one hundred or more cameras (including those of the cellphones) of the crowd gathered to pick a memento of the (in this case) ‘fabulous, beautiful and charming’ Marion Matthews!

 

What luck of her!

 

She would have to wait for the filming crew to finish the shoot, then wait for at least three or four hours before all that activity outside ceased or subsided enough for her likings, then and only then she would dare to live that house and... what the...

 

Someone was walking towards the front door! A cop!

 

She checked herself in the mirror, the wig was perfect and the lens were alright... She was wearing a blue overalls with a black boots and gloves. She had found it in one of the large built-in wardrobes of the house and, since she was stuck and might be seen by someone (without realizing it), she decided to difficult any possibility of identification. The casual clothes she had used to get closer (and the invade) the house were underneath it and she had bagged the tennis shoes she was wearing when she crashed into that fetishistic photoshoot not one hour before. OK, she would deal with the cop, either by fooling her or making her join the others ladies upstairs... hold on a second.

 

While the uniform of a police officer seemed legit, it wasn’t like the cops of that county used! And the woman wearing it was more like a model wearing a cop uniform than a real coplady. She was too young (even for be a rookie), too pretty, too... curvy (in the right way) to be a cop and was walking carelessly while singing something!

 

She opened the door to the unsuspecting girl and had her idea confirmed right away.

 

‘Oh, hi, you must be Jolene, the ‘burglar’ whom I am supposed to become a victim in a few minutes. How do you do? My name is Kayleen, nice to meet you...’

 

‘Nice to meet you, there was a problem during the shoot and I am waiting for her to call me upstairs so we’re both stuck here until then. Say... what were you doing out there?’

 

And the naive girl explained that when VanBuerren (the photographer that owned the house) had told her that Marion Matthews was doing a movie shoot in the road in front of her house she couldn’t care less about anything but the chance of getting a picture of her favorite Hollywood starlet. So she went out there in the most ‘real’ looking cop uniform she could find (instead of the fetishistic one she was supposed to be wearing) while VanBuerren was tying up the first victim of the ‘burglar’ of her customized shoot.

 

She knew she wasn’t supposed to do that but it was about Marion Matthews, MARION MATTHEWS!!!!, that she was talking!

 

Marion Matthews, less than a mile away from her... she had to meet her!

 

‘And did you met her?’

 

‘Oh YESSSSSSS!”

 

And as the girl started to describe how wonderful, humble and fantastic was her favorite actress both women started to climb up the stairs, going to the studio on the second floor...

 

Fifteen minutes later she was cinching the last knots of her ropework on the leggy brunette.

The expression of incredibility when she realized that, besides the really buxom mid-thirties lady that was the real ‘burglar’ of the planned shoot of the day and her ‘victim’ (an early 20’s even more buxom Oriental girl), the renowned bondage photographer Claudia VanBuerren was also tightly tied and gagged and (in her case) writhing on the floor of her photo studio had been really funny to see... she did realized that it was a real deal gun that she saw the woman whom she was talking to until then grab from a pocket of her overalls and obeyed every order she received. Strip to her bra and panties (like the other ladies), then lie down on the floor with her ankles and wrists crossed and ‘don’t try anything’...

 

Those ballgags (that VanBuerren had by the dozens – it seemed to be her favorite form of gagging her models) were really not effective as she expected that they would be. So she ordered the girl to open her mouth, placed a sponge inside her mouth and sealed it with six good turns of tape around her head. She did took care that the girl’s hair wasn’t trapped within the tape and heard a muffled ‘thank you’ for that.

 

Then she stood up and decided to check every captive’s bonds before returning to the lobby downstairs. First she went to the woman she had been mistaken as by the brunette.

 

She had heard of them while doing her research, Polly Brass, who had made about two hundred bondage movies during the 90’s and after a six years stop was back to her place in the ‘scene’. She was a bit overweighed and had a big nose, plus she was too old to use ponytails. And was looking at her with such curiosity! She hadn’t protested or anything as the younger model bound her as she was told to, she even helped the girl (who did all the bindings in the verge of tears) to get a grip on herself by ‘guiding’ her (saying which part of her body the girl was to bind then) and encourage her to deal with situation with more calm and resolve. All while she was being tied up to one of the four posts of that bed!

 

Some slack at the ankles and knees, done, the waist and chest ties had even more slack

 

‘Bad girl, were you trying to free yourself ?’ – and she nodded! And then she held a pose or stance like she was saying ‘Oh come on! What else did you expected that I would do?’. She had to respect such an attitude or should she punish it? In the end she slightly tapped the older woman in the face and admonished her, after she added a lot of black electrician tape to her bonds, torso and legs, to not try ‘that’ again or ‘else’ (‘else’ what?).

 

The other woman bound to a bedpost was still crying. She wasn’t a real model, just a very bosomy Korean co-ed that had many bills to pay and had accepted VanBuerren’s generous offer (just like her client’s wife had done so many years before), but even a real bondage model would be shaken by the prospect of being bound and gagged ‘for real’.

 

But, perhaps, not like this girl was being now...

 

She hadn’t more than 21/22 years and was, following VanBuerren’s request/order, using a very revealing (almost see-through) cherry red set of lacy bra and panties with garter-belts and all. While not exactly a petite, she was the smallest woman in the room and...

 

No slack at all in any of her bonds. She removed that ball the girl was already sporting when she stormed into the room, gave her some water and sealed her lips shut with a few turns of the roll of tape around her head. Again she took caution with the hair of her victim (in this case a long plaid jet-black mane) and, out of nowhere, decided to blindfold the girl as well with a large black scarf. She leaned over and whispered a few reassuring words in her ear and then went to check the (in)famous VanBuerren.

 

Slack all around! Not enough to let her free herself, but almost en route for that! And she had checked and rechecked all the knots before leaving the room!

 

She then looked at the oldest woman in the room. Claudia VanBuerren had posed for everybody that was somebody in the world of erotic photography in the 60’s and 70’s, before she went to behind the lens and became a famous (for all the good and bad reasons) photographer. Even in her mid-60’s she was in great shape. Certainly thinner than in her days as a model, but not less graceful (what did she used in her skin? She looked as if she was 10 to 20 years younger!), the ‘anchor’ ties that she had used to pin her arms at her sides were almost undone and had to be redid with the same carefulness of the first try, but instead of a series of three medium sized lengths of rope to capture  the arms to the torso she used seven this time, plus four more short lengths of rope to her leather covered legs and just because she was too mouthy (even with the ‘ballgag’) a few turns of tape around her head. Funny it really seemed that she wanted to tell her something...

 

As if it mattered.

 

The ‘cop’ almost shrieked when she grabbed her in her arms and carried to the bed. Since the two front posts of the bed were already being ‘used’ she would anchor the girl to one of the two in the back. She made the girl kneel on the bed and started to wrap rope above and below her breasts, making sure that while it was tight and would leave marks, it would not cut the blood circulation of her bound arms or cut too deep into her skin. Then she made a big sailor’s knot which left about three feet of rope unused, she tied it to the left back post and left the ‘cop’ with less than a feet of movement.

 

She then went to check on the window. No such luck, it did looked like they were shooting the shootout that followed the car crash. She was looking at it with a pair of binoculars and (from what she could see) the director was finally satisfied with the shoot. From them on things started to wind down outside. The reshooting was almost over, Marion Matthews had left the premises (dragging with her most of the reporters and locals) and...

 

Another girl was coming to the house?

 

Oh come on! What was that? She had never had to deal with so many people at once... except with that co-ed who had a very big surprise at her ‘surprise’ birthday party, when she walked into her loft expecting to see her two sister and three best friends, but obviously not in the way they were after she had to deal with them. That night she had left seven (a cousin of the co-ed had decided to stop by about five minutes after her entrance) women bound and gagged behind her after she got what she wanted (the co-ed’s mementos of her relationship with a senator) and swore that she would retire if she ever found herself again overcrowding a room with forcibly muted and restrained women.

 

And now came the soon-to-be fifth woman to be restrained... or perhaps not. Perhaps she was lucky and whatever the... late twenties gal, in a black conservative business suit and glasses that (for her) meant that she either a lawyer or a PR, perhaps she could convince the woman to not enter the house and... not such luck.

 

Wendy Teal had business with VanBuerren and only VanBuerren. All the politeness that she could muster were dismissed and rebuked by the arrogant PR that was there to ‘make that pathetic excuse of a photographer to change her mind!’, and since she mistook her for a ‘fetish model’ she had nothing else to talk to her, and demanded that she was taken to the owner of the two stories house ASAP ‘or else’!

 

VanBuerren couldn’t help but give the newest captive a look of disdain and contempt as she saw her being forced to undress completely and was reduced to a standing salami by their captor... As if they had some sort of a history...

 

Usually she was always professional when it came to tie up somebody, but this girl had looked at her as if she was nothing, less than nothing. BIG mistake.

 

She used twine, a whole spool of it, over the smaller girl’s body. Looking down on her because she thought that she was someone that she could bark to and dispraise? Oh man... NO ONE did that to her and was left untouched!

 

If she wasn’t whimpering so pathetically right now, if she wasn’t six inches smaller than her and obviously relying more on her looks to solve her problems... was she feeling pity for the girl? Coupled with such a good feeling of ‘SHE HAD IT COMING!’?

 

She had once bound a neonazi blonde **** that was trying to blackmail her (then) client in the buff and upside down against a column in her own basement, and after so many months she was having exactly the same feeling of contempt! Damn, the girl was trembling and shaking even more than the Korean gal had! Not that it stopped her to wrap more and more twine around the girl’s legs, torso and arms. In the end she used a spool and a half on her prey, and it showed clearly! She slapped a few strips of tape over the girl’s own necktie to better gag her and decided to tie her standing against the last unused post of the bed.

 

Nothing happened for the next fifty minutes, the activity outside was almost none (there was almost nobody else left in the house’s front lawn or in the other’s houses as well), the filming crew was almost completely gone (save for a few technicians) and...

 

Another woman, this time one of those technicians, was walking towards the front door!

 

She decided to ignore that one. Ignore completely. No matter how many times the doorbell was rung, no matter how many times she knocked, nothing would make her open the door!

 

‘Ms. VanBuerren? Hello? I’m sorry I am late... Ms. VanBuerren?’

 

The girl had a copy of the keys? What the... she threatened all her captives to be quiet with her (empty) gun and took a peak at the newcomer as she removed her disguise of tech (a big blue and grey jumpsuit) and revealing a tight fitting black trousers jeans, an even tighter blue tank top and the famous (and some joked ‘patented’) smile of Marion Matthews!!

 

What was she doing in here?

 

‘Mrs. VanBuerren?’

 

The beautiful actress started to climb up the stairs hesitantly, and almost went back a couple of times then she decided to go to the end (whatever it was) and with a firm and decisive face she went straight to the studio on the first floor and knocked at the door.

 

She was already expecting to hear muffled voices behind that door, VanBuerren told her that she was going to have a customized shoot of a burglary going well (even with the interference of a buxom cop) being taken that day, so in her mind the sounds came from one or two gagged models. A tall, quite statuesque and Amazonian black woman opened the door for her to enter, and grabbed her arm pushing her inside.

 

‘Is there anybody else with you???!!’

 

She had a gun in her hand and one, two, three, four, five captiv... hey... the nude girl bound to the last post of the four post bed was her assistant PR!

 

‘Answer me!’

 

‘Ye-yes. My bodyguards, they are to wait for me outside for one hour, if I don’t...’

 

Now the armed woman quickly slapped a few turns of tape over her wrists behind her back, then her left hand was firmly placed over her lips. She allowed herself to be dragged backwards until the attacker could spy through the window and see her bodyguards.

 

‘Don’t make a sound...’

 

The taller woman (whom to her did looked a bit like Grace Jones) simply slapped a strip of white tape over her lips, then she set down to trap her legs (and ruin one of her best jeans!) by wrapping that accursed black electrician tape around and around her legs, then a few more turns over her arms (making them as close as she could take without feeling much pain) and then around her torso and arms, making them as one.

 

Then she was abruptly spun around by the attacker and her gag was removed.

 

‘I saw one bodyguard, you said ‘bodyguards’, where is/are the other(s)?’

 

‘They are in three. One in the car, one in the front of the house and one in the back.’

 

The woman thought for a moment.

 

‘This one in the back, what does he looks like?’

 

‘She’s an Army vet of mid thirties, strong as a bodybuilder (she’s one actually) and is carrying a couple of guns. Look, I told them that it was more likely that Clau... Ms. VanBuerren was still shooting her ‘customized’ shoot, but then probably I’d have to wait for a few minutes and she would send the models home so she could...’

 

‘YOU are going to model for her???!!!’

 

At that moment the nude PR made a lot of noise, which earned her a tighter gag as Marion (who was now kneeling on the floor) explained herself (not that the attacker asked her to...).

 

‘I am getting tired of the ‘America’s Sweetheart’ title. Seven of the last eight movie scripts that were sent to me had roles of ‘pretty, naive, shallow and beautiful’ girls that would fell in love with the hero of the story. And I can’t take those characters anymore! I was a very good ‘Lady Macbeth’ for a whole season in the Broadway, but they want me as... as...’

 

‘I got it, so have a few erotic pictures taken by one of the most infamous photographers of America... – Open wide please... no wait – Why are you so calm?’

 

That was something that was starting to get an eerie feeling from her, was she just biding time for her bodyguards or... The actress smiled and answered her question while keeping  a straight face and a firm lock of her eyes upon her own.

 

‘I was kidnapped four years ago by a bunch of professional criminals and one year ago Pete Rindi, that lone loser, whom because I signed an autograph to him in an event in Chicago fantasized a whole romance for us both, attempted to kidnap me by invading my house in LA. You have the eyes of the first, not the second. I am scared of course, who wouldn’t be?, but I can keep myself calm because you are a pro... not a loony amateur.’

 

‘Thanks for the compliment...’

 

She smoothed the three strips of tape of the starlet’s lips and helped her to stand, then she cradled the girl in her arms and took her to the bed. After she carefully placed the on top of the linens she rolled her on her belly and put her in a loose hogtie (just enough to prevent her from getting out of the bed and hopping her way to freedom somehow).

 

OK, so all she had to do was to remove the overalls, put on a ‘normal’ face and fool the bodyguards and, finally after such a long delay, contact her client to be able to deliver the pictures to him ASAP! But, as she was checking herself downstairs in front of a mirror, she did looked like a tall and (very slightly) muscular black co-ed in those ‘civilian’ clothes, she saw it. A shadow behind the front door. Someone was in the porch! Another woman!

 

What was wrong with her luck today?!

 

OK, fine, she’ll have to let this one enter, grab her from behind before she could be able to take a good look at her, leave her writhing bound and gagged on the floor in front of the front door and... She definitely wasn’t prepared for what she heard.

 

‘Black Rose, I know that you are there. Open the door or I swear I’ll call the police!’

 

That voice... could it be? Could it possible that it was... her client’s wife?

 

It was none other than her. Alone, wearing a grey conservative business suit and looking very much angry. The whole situation went straight against her policies but she opened the door and met her face to face. She was ignored completely as the former amateur model ran upstairs and stormed inside the studio. And stood mouth open and flabbergasted at the sight in front of her. And was abruptly and very efficiently seized from behind.

 

Black Rose wasted no time in overpowering her newest captive with a balled scarf inside the mouth (held by another wrapped between her lips), yet another scarf wrapping the wrists and then she threw her over her shoulder and carried her away from the ample studio into an adjacent room, where VanBuerren kept her files and memorabilia in piles of boxes (and where she had to dig up a little to find the pictures of the woman who was now furiously struggling in her arms), she placed the struggling woman one the floor and tied her legs at the ankles with one last scarf. Then she went down to business.

 

‘Stop with that!!! Are you mad or what? You were definitely not supposed to be here!!!’

 

The angry muffled sounds became angrier and louder, and coherent enough so she could understand the words ‘your services were not necessary’ among what looked like insults.

 

Telling her captive to calm down, because if she did so she was going to remove her gag and they would talk, and if she didn’t she would simply leave her behind and take the pictures to her hubby, she managed to get some cooperation from the captive.

 

‘YOU FOOOOLLLMMMPPPHHH!!!!’ – and after two minutes of warnings and treats from her captoress she was allowed to talk again – ‘You idiot!!! That stupid ex-assistant of my husband that hired you was fired two hours ago when he told us (me and my husband) what he had did (hire you) to ‘get rid’ of those pictures I posed for Claudia so many years ago. And after I had him fired I told him that Claudia had already agreed to give me those pictures for free! There was no need for you to break in and tie up all those women and myself! You ******MMMMPPPPPPHHHH!!!!’

 

That earned her the tightest and multilayered gag she applied to a woman that day, and a good and loud series of spanks over her now bare behind. Good enough to cease any animosity from the captive and turn her into a sobbing woman in a few minutes.

 

‘First, I did what I was hired to do. If it wasn’t necessary or not I have no responsibility for that, I did what I was hired to and did it efficiently BTW. Second, no one calls me that and goes unpunished. Third, you and the others will be all freed in a matter of minutes, and how you and them will solve this whole mess is not my business, so don’t try to make it mine by going to the police. I repeat, DON’T go to the police and don’t let any of them go if you don’t want to spend your life fearing the day I will be there, waiting for you in the shadows. Fourth and last, roll over on your belly...’

 

There was a box at her right, it contained various restraining materials and she had left the box open after she had done her search hours before, She picked a few pre-cuts and left a tightly hogtied woman sobbing in the darkness. It was going to damage her reputation, but she didn’t cared. All that she cared was to leave that house!

 

She calmed down enough to put a convincing ‘tired after a full day of posing for pictures’ face, checked herself again in the mirror downstairs and left the house.

 

 

 

The Black Rose was the only one that had financial losses because of the incident.

 

The Texas senator didn’t liked to hear about what had happened to his wife and tried to tarnish her reputation, which granted her a whole semester of small (if any) jobs, but after a while a CEO needed that a snoopy reporter and her friend/source (his former mistress) were relieved of what they had about him, and with a quite spectacular (yet secret) job she managed to clean her fame and soon was back in full mode.

 

Instead of burning or destroying the pictures, the senator’s wife kept them as a memento of her younger years. She had a lot of stories about her modeling jobs that, in private, her husband appreciated to hear. And besides, she did look good wearing only stilettos and nothing else... and hasn’t changed much over the years...

 

The Korean co-ed had a few sessions with a shrink paid by the senator’s wife and never ever did any other modeling job, but got enough money from the one she didn’t completed that she could pay all her bills for a whole semester.

 

Marion helped her to deal with the other two models, the newbie that was supposed to be a cop had a little help from Marion to meet some names in LA. She soon was one of Charlie Sheen’s girlfriends in ‘Two and a Half Men’ and was seen in many other sitcoms, always in the whole of the (dumb and naive) buxom beauty of the week.

 

The more experienced model (the one that was supposed to be a burglar) was allowed to leak in her blog that she had seen Marion Matthews meeting Claudia VanBuerren in her studio. The efollowing media coverage of the impending photo shoot of the soon-to-be-ex (conservative) America’s Sweetheart boosted the staled career of all three women, and all three took the maximum advantage of it. The model’s career got an extra gas that allowed her to stay in the business for nearly a decade more, VanBuerren came back to the really alternative scene in NY and LA and Marion Matthews’ career outlived her youth.

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