Award Night

The conversation around the dinner tables made a low hum as it reverberated across the room, which settled into silence as a formally attired man took his place behind a lectern on the raised dais.  He cleared his throat, looked out across the room and began to speak.

“My lords, ladies, gentlemen, distinguished guests and other persons, welcome to the annual International Kidnapping and Extortion Awards, which this year is being held here in the English countryside courtesy of our kind host, the Duchess of Barchester.  I’m sure you’d like to join with me, before we begin, in thanking her for her kind hospitality, so we go now live to a villa somewhere in the Caribbean, where Her Grace is the guest of one of our foremost supporters.

“Good evening. Mordaca!”

The giant screen behind the speaker lit up to reveal a sun drenched garden, where a man was sitting drinking from a tall glass.  He was slightly below average height, dark haired and dressed in combat fatigues.  Smiling, he replied to the hail.

“Good evening from Jamaica, Clive.  My apologies to all that I could not be with you tonight, but I was asked to ensure that Her Grave the Duchess did not object to our use of her home.”

“And what does she have to say to that, Mordaca?”

“See for yourself,” the man said as he gestured to his right.  Panning round, the camera showed a blonde haired woman in a light blue patterned bikini lying on a sun lounger.  She was struggling as she lay there, her bound wrists coming round from her back but getting no further than the ropes around her chest and arms allowed, while her ankles were also tightly bound together.  A white cloth was tied tightly into her mouth.

“Her Grace was most eager to aid us in our evening, and is more than willing to allow you the complete use of her home.”

The muffled screams from the gagged victim were drowned out by the applause from the gathered audience in the room.

“Mordaca, many thanks both for your help in securing the house, and for your part in the judging tonight.  Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you, Clive, and good luck everyone!”  Mordaca raised a glass as the screen went blank, and Clive continued.

“As you are all aware, the I.K.E.A. each year honours the most original, artistic and daring raids in our business.  Each country had made its nominations, and joining Mordaca on the judging panel is…

“From Dublin, Ireland, the man who chairs The Assistant, Big Mike!

“From her home in Monaco, the genius that is La Chocolitta!

“From the USA, we welcome Simon Bertoni!

“And our chair of the panel, the internationally renowned Madame X!!”

The applause went on as the other judges stood and acknowledged the acclaim, before Clive continued.

“Let’s get started then, with our first entry from Italy, as performed by Mistress M and Mistress E…”

The Contessa Angelina de Montessi is one of the foremost art collectors in the area, as well as one of the most notorious in terms of her personal taste in companions.  When we decided to pay her a visit with the intention of taking some of her collection, it was therefore no surprise to us that she was in her main chamber with two friends.  All three were wearing silk dressing gowns, and drinking finest Krug when we made our entry and asked them to stay perfectly still.

The three were very compliant with our requests – although I suspect the tight black catsuits E and I were wearing had more to do with it than any weaponry we displayed to them.  Indeed, the most heated debate seemed to be around which of them would be the first to be restrained by the two of us in order that we go about our normal illegal business.

In the end, we just told all three women to lie face down, but first to remove their outer robes.  The full nature of the evening was immediately apparent – the Contessa was wearing a white basque with matching stockings and dark brown heels, while her companions were in black garments and heels.  We bound the wrists of all three women behind their back, crossed naturally, and then sat all three up while we bound their legs and ankles with rope.

It was then we decided to take a more artistic approach to the way we left them, in honour of our reluctant host.  The Contessa had her wrists secured into the small of her back by rope, and then her arms lashed to her sides with longer lengths,  After gagging her, we laid her on her side and bound the wrists of one of her companions by securing rope around her waist.  She was then laid on her side, facing the Contessa, and the other companion bound and laid in the opposite direction, still facing her host.  As you can see by the photo we took, they seemed to enjoy both the artistry and the companionship while we enjoyed the paintings hat we absconded with.

“Thank you, Mistress M.  Our next entry is from the UK, as we present an entry from Dave of eSlave fame….”

Well, we had been asked to obtain a very specific package for one of our Middle Eastern clients – the singer known as Missy Simpson.  We tracked down the woman to a secluded house in the country that she used as a hideaway, and sent a team in with myself at the head.

The actual place was relatively simple to secure – we simply sent a harmless anaesthetic gas through the air conditioning while she and the person who kept house for her were eating, and both were unconscious in seconds.  The three of us entered the building, laid the housekeeper on the ground and turned our attention to the Simpson woman.

She is a real beauty – mid-thirties, blonde hair down her back, and on this occasion dressed in a white short sleeved top, short skirt and dark heels.  I quickly bound her wrists, ankles and legs, covered her mouth with tape, and hoisted her over my shoulder.  As I turned to leave, that was when the fun really started.

She was about six foot, dark hair and blue eyes as she stood looking at me with Simpson over my shoulder.  This was her agent, and she had obviously called in unexpectedly.  The first thing she said was “What the fuck….”  The second was an ear piercing scream, and then silence as one of my associates hand gagged her and pushed the barrel of a gun against her back.

So, there I am unmasked with this woman staring at me over my friend’s gloved hand.  Obviously, an unexpected complication – and an unexpected bonus as well for someone.

I told her not to scream as the hand was taken away, and then to strip down.  As she did this, her eyes widened as she saw my companions take skeins of rope from a bag.

Well, we did a number on her.  Wrists behind her back, ropes around her arms and breasts, waist, legs, calves and ankles, and as tight as we could make them over her naked body.  Finally, we stuffed a scarf she was wearing over her neck into her mouth and wrapped tow ace bandages around her face and head, gagging her tightly.

That wasn’t the best best bit, though.  The best bit was when I put my phone to her ears, after I called my wife to tell her about the bonus, and her eyes widened in shock as she heard exactly what was going to happen to her later……

“Well, folks, at least we know what happened to Miss Simpson now – she can be hard in private concert somewhere in the Sinai Peninsula every night…

“And, speaking of entertainment, I’ve just had word that our special guest for the evening has arrived at a nearby airstrip.  Can we have the pictures, please?”

On the big screen, a shot appeared of a group alighting from a small private plane.  Two men were securing ropes around a woman, with short brown hair, who standing on the tarmac.  A large white ball gag filled her mouth, and there was a crotch rope in place that was also securing her wrists to the small of her back as well as adding additional detail to the briefs she was wearing.

The audience applauded as Clive continued with “We will hear more from our guest while the panel consider the winning entries.  For now, we go next to France for a special entry.

Mademoiselle Gaston had been a thorn in the side of the operation for some time – always looking to find out who we were and how we planned our raids.  Eventually, we decided to give her a true exclusive.

Three of us visited her, just with the intention of scaring her off.  Normal clothes, black balaclava masks – nothing sophisticated.  We burst into her flat, forced her to lie down on her bed and quickly tied her wrists together.

She looked at us as we turned her over, with her blue shirt barely covering her panties, and started to scream for help – some red tape soon put a stop to that.  As we turned her back over, Alphonse pulled her ankles up and grabbed some rope to tie them together,

As he did this, I noticed she was looking through her brown hair at a computer screen.  When I looked, however, I discovered she had somehow managed to hack into the bank account of a very large corporation – apparently, as she later said, to show how easy it was to get into these things.

Well, we should have thanked her as we siphoned off one million Euros into an of-shore account, but I don’t think she would have accepted our gratitude at that time…

“Moving swiftly on, we have a wonderful entry from a group in Australia named after Ned Kelly. …”

The Governor’s wife was surprised to see the two of us arrive, but we needed her husband not to do something for a few hours while our friends cleared out the local bank.  Given he was the president, this gave is an added incentive to keep her company.

She was in her fifties, short blonde hair, brown trousers and a floral print blouse.  She realised very quickly the best thing she could do was co-operate, so we took her up to the master bedroom and sat her in a chair.

After that point, everything seemed to go according to plan.  She sat there as we lashed her wrists to the back of the chair, and secured her upper body snugly into the support.  Taking her boots off her feet, we lashed her ankles together and across the front legs of the chair, and then secured her lap in place before tying a thick white cloth into her mouth.

So far, so good, but then something or someone unexpected arrived.  My mate and I heard the front door open, a young voice call out “Mum?” and realised her daughter must have come to visit.  Some feat, given she lived in Perth and we were in Melbourne, but these things happen.  I pointed a gun at the old lady to keep her quiet while my friend went and collected the younger woman,

Well, she was a right beaut.  Early twenties, long blonde hair, tall, and wearing a metallic grey dress with a diamond panel cut out in the front.  She looked at her mother as my friend brought her into the room, and sat her on the bed before starting to bind her wrists together.

Ten minutes, and she was bound as pretty as a peach, staring at her mother and continuously asking her if she was all right.  He mother kept nodding and trying to talk back – quite comical when you think about it.  Not that it mattered anyway – the daughter was soon gagged as well and sat on the bed as we told them exactly what was going to happen to them.

Good day that – cleared out the bank, and a big fat ransom for the two girls…

Clive turned from the screen and put on a serious tone of voice.  “We pause for a moment to acknowledge that fact that one possible candidate cannot be with us tonight.

“Many here will be aware of the fact that Selina Jones, one of our more illustrious members, was captured the other day after being on the run for some time.  We remember her with her most notorious case – the time she worked as a maid to gain entrance to the home of Constance Cumming before stealing her priceless antiques.”

On the screen came a shot of Selina as she caressed the bound and gagged form of Constance.  The robe of the captive had fallen down to reveal her breasts, as Selina continued to arouse and caress the helpless woman.  Low moans came from her gagged mouth as her breasts became firmer, more erect.

“Selina, fare thee well in your enforced retirement.

“Moving on, we have an entry from the USA.  Take it away…”

In order to get unfettered access to the Second National Bank, we needed not only access but also a road block around the area.  To get this, we decided it would be necessary to use the traffic control centre in the town hall for an hour or two.

The beauty of their system was that everything is automated and controlled by one person – and on this day, that person was Melinda Hart.  A lovely lady in her late twenties, she was wearing a grey jacket and flared skirt to work when we arrived, and showed her the picture of her daughter that we had taken care of for a few hours.

Well, after that she was willing to do anything for us.  We watched as she changed the light sequencing to create a jam for three blocks all round, and then sent our team to do their job.

As for Melinda – well, we bound her wrists and ankles, secured her arms to her side and gagged her before leaving her on the floor.

As to her daughter - never had her.  It was a trick, but a good one to have.

“Well, a neat trick, I think you will agree, as we never do harm to children if it can possibly be avoided.

“At this point, we’ll take a break for dessert and glasses to be recharged…..”

Some time later, Clive started to speak again.

“From Sweden, we have a most unusual tale courtesy of Bjorn Brglar.”

I thought the house was empty when I went in, but I soon realised my mistake when I heard the shower running.  The lady of the house stepped out when she heard the door of the bathroom opening, but her screams were soon stifled by my gloved hand and my insistence that she stay quiet.

She didn’t even get a chance to dress before I took some grey thin rope and tied her wrists together, with her palms against her forearms, behind her back.  Forcing her into the front room, I made her sit on the red recliner before securing the rope to the chair leg, and allowing her to lie down after I had gagged her with a scarf.

Once I had secured her ankles together to the other leg, I left her struggling and screaming as I started to search her house.  Now, homes here have by law to have a sizable basement, and many families use them to store her valuables there.  When I made my way down, however, I saw a sight that took my breath away.

Standing there was a dark haired woman, fastened in a spread-eagle fashion to two wooden poles, one of which hung from the ceiling by a chain and the other of which was fixed to the floor.  She stared at me, and asked what the hell I was doing in Ingrid’s house.

I must have interrupted some sort of game or photo shoot, as I swear it took me a few minutes to realise that she was buck naked instead of clothed.  What I had thought was a dress with a ripped hem turned out to by body paint – black latex body paint that covered the woman from her neck to below her crotch.

She again asked who I was, so I said I was a burglar and her – friend was upstairs.  Stepping forward, I picked up a roll of black tape and tore several strips off; smoothing each over her lips and jaws in turn until she too was silenced.  I then took several photos of my own before leaving her to try and call for help while I searched the rest of the house….

“A simple job, but I hope you will agree with me, Ladies and Gentlemen, that the artistic content was of a high standard.

“We have two more entries to consider now.  Our first is from Spain…”

“You can’t do this to me, you just can’t…..”

She kept saying that over and over again.  I knew she was a stewardess, but there was no way she was going to get the better of me – not when so much depended on me making sure she did not make her flight.

I was wearing a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt with “New York City” on the front when I knocked on her hotel room door, before pulling the balaclava over my face.  She opened the door, and before she could react I was pushing her into the room and face down on her bed.

Her stewardess outfit was on the floor, and she was wearing a white sheer blouse over a camisole top, a very short black skirt and white stockings.  She kept kicking and screaming at me, even as I straddled her and tightly lashed her wrists together behind her back so that she could not separate them.

Turning round, I grabbed her flailing ankles and pulled together with a lasso of rope, pulling then together and deftly securing them as well.  Eventually, she agreed to be quiet as I sat her up and pulled her arms tightly to her side with rope, passing it between her arms and her chest to secure them more firmly into place.

As she looked at her white strapped shoes, she finally asked me why I was doing this.  Naturally, /I said nothing, but pinched her nose as I stuffed a cloth into her mouth and layered duct tape over her jaw.

Checking the way was clear, I carried her to a lift, then down to the basement and into my van.  As I approached the doors were opened from the inside and my victim stared at her exact double stepping out from the van.  I place her in the back, and drove off, leaving my friend to take her place in the morning and steal the diamond necklace that the courier was taking back for safety,,,,,

“For our final entry, we go to Switzerland and a cunning jewellery robbery….”

I waited for her to come back from the merchants, patiently passing the time and making my plans.  Eventually I heard the front door open, but even then I did not move from my hiding place as she came in and made her way to her bedroom, unbuttoning her jacket as she went.  I could wait – I had time on my side.

Eventually she came back into the living room, brushing her strawberry blonde hair and wearing tight blue jeans, a white blouse and brown pumps.  I watched her as she sat down, picked up a magazine and began to read it.

Eventually, the telephone rang and she took the call, writing something down on a piece of paper as she did so.  That was my cue – as she put the phone down, I quietly walked in from the kitchen and picked up the piece of paper, saying “Thank you very much” as I did so.

Well, she tried to run for the door, but I grabbed her, made her sit down and told her to calm down and call her friend to ask her to come over when she had a chance.  When she asked which friend, I told her the one that had the other half of the security code – and no funny stuff.

Once the call was made, I poured us both a glass of wine and told her to drink it to steady her nerves.  As she did so, I knelt beside her and started to bind her ankles together over the cuffs of her jeans, making sure I cinched the ropes between her legs.  She nodded as I tied the knot, said “I expected this”, and turned round, holding her wrists together behind her back as she did so.  “Standard Operating Procedure”, she said as I started to wrap the rope around her wrists, “Do as the captor says and don’t argue.”

“Sound advice,” I said as I tied the rope off.  Picking up a Hermes scarf that was on the floor, I rolled it into a band and tied a knot in the centre.  “Does your SOP say what to do now?” I asked, and she nodded as she opened her mouth.

Thirty minutes later, there was a ring on the doorbell and I discreetly let her friend in.  Long dark hair, black leather jacket and skirt and heeled sandals, but she offered no resistance as I grabbed her after she came in.  Asking if she could take her jacket off, I allowed her to do so and reveal the white silk blouse and cravat scarf underneath.

“Where’s Gloria,” she said and I showed her the other woman lying face down on the bed in her room, hogtied and staring up.  Nodding, she asked me what was going to happen to her, in reply to which I led her back into the living room and had her sit on a bar stool that was next to a drinks area.

Well, by the time I had finished she was sat on the stool, hands behind her back and ankles secured, with her legs bound and her scarf acting as a gag.  Her white panties were just visible as I searched her handbag, took her house keys and driving licence so I knew where to go, and left her trying to see if she could wriggle free somehow.  Both parts of the code helped me clean out the merchant’s safe before business opened the next morning.

The applause was rapturous as Clive turned back to the assembled throng.

“So there you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen, the nominees for the I.K.E.A. award for this year.  While our judges deliberate, here’s our special music guest with a rendition of that classic, Sound of Silence.  Maestro?”