Doublecross

 

 

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing to me?”

 

“I told you to shut up – now keep still or this is going to hurt even more.”

 

Carrie tried to relax as one of the women knotted the rope off around her wrists while the other pulled her ankles back so that they were parallel with her knees.  She had just come back in when hey had jumped her and pushed her to the floor.  She had no idea why they were in her house at first, but the fact they had immediately started to tie her up had told her enough.

 

The shoulder strap of her pink top had started to fall onto her arm with her struggles, as well as the bottom riding up and exposing her bare stomach to the carpet.  She looked round as the rope was passed around her ankles and pulled tightly, her chestnut hair falling across her face and slightly obscuring her vision.

 

“Please, just get out of here, I won’t tell anyone you mmmphhh.”

 

“You talk too much,” the blonde said as she pulled a white cloth into her mouth and tied the ends together behind her neck.  Carrie’s lips closed around the cloth, and as she lay there the damp patch that had started to form in the centre grew slowly outwards.

 

Finishing off the rope work, the dark haired girl stood up and motioned to her friend.  The two of them left Carrie on the floor, trying to find some give in the ropes, as they made their way round the house.  Eventually, they came back and looked at her lying there, the straps and top of her black bra starting to show as her top slipped out of place.

 

“Have a nice day,” the blonde said with a sneer as they carried a holdall between them out of the house, leaving Carrie to try and find a way to raise the alarm.

 

 

 

The second break-in was reported two days later.  Annie had come home from work, and was in the process of getting changed when there was a knock on her door.  Throwing a robe over her body, she had gone to answer it, but as soon as she opened the door two women had pushed their way in and forced her to return to her bedroom.

 

The dark haired intruder had ordered her to take her rope off, leaving Annie standing there in her black lace bra and green knickers.  “Colour co-ordinated – not,” the girl had sneered before her blonde friend had pushed Annie onto her bed, pulled her wrists behind her back and started to wrap a length of thick white rope around and between them.

 

Now she was staring up at the two women as they searched through her bedroom furniture.  Her light brown hair was falling over her face, covering in part the silver tape that covered her scarf stuffed mouth, and her ankles had been crossed and secured both together and to her wrists in a tight hogtie.  She lay there, helpless to stop them filling their bag with her valuables, and powerless as they went back downstairs and began to search through the rest of her house.  IT was tow hours after they left before her partner found her there, the sweat from her struggles covering her body.

 

 

 

When the papers reported the next attack and burglary, they started to use a phrase some puerile little office boy had dreamed up – the Bra Bandits.  At least that’s what Bunty Carmichael felt when she read the report of her ordeal.

 

She had been working at home, dressed casually in tan coloured trousers and a silk blouse, when she had been hand gagged and grabbed in her living room without warning.  As she struggled, she could see in a mirror she was being held by a dark haired girl, while standing behind her was a blonde haired woman waving a knife from Bunty’s kitchen.

 

“Now, are you going to be a good little girl, or do I have to cut you,” the blonde had said as she walked in front of Bunty, waving the rather large knife in front of her.  “Lll b gd,” she had mumbled under the gloved hand.

 

“Excellent – take your top off,” the girl said as Bunty was released.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Take your blouse off, NOW!!”

 

Grimacing, Bunty had undone the blouse and slipped it off.  Standing there in her white bra, she endured the looks of the two girls before her arms were pulled behind her back by the dark haired girl.

 

Twenty minutes later, she watched as she lay on her bed while the blonde tied he rankles together rover the cuffs of her trouser legs.  After her wrists had been tied together the other intruder had wrapped several layers of rope around Bunty’s arms and legs, both above and below her breasts, before passing it several times around her neck and the ropes to secure them even more tightly.

 

“Please, just take what you want,” she said as the blonde stood up.

 

“We will,” she replied as she took a roll of white tape from her bag.  “Now, put your lips together, breath through your nose and you’ll be just fine.”

 

Bunty nodded as a long strip of tape was torn off and smoothed over her lips.  As more strips were applied, she tried to relax and breath as she had been instructed, watching the girls searching through her wardrobes and drawers and placing items in their holdall as they did so.

 

 

 

The raids continued over the next few weeks, all falling a similar pattern.  Two women, one blonde and one dark haired, would get entry into flats and houses were women were on their own, force them to strip to the waist apart from their bras, and then secure them before robbing the premises.  In the case of the eighteen year old daughter of a local businesswoman, that had taken place in the garage of their house, where they had stood her up against a support and tied her wrists together behind her back.  In their first search, they had found some of the daughter’s “toys” in her bedroom, so they used one to silence her – a rather large red ball gag with leather straps.  She stood in the garage, the cold making her nipples become more prominent through her black bra, while the house was searched.

 

This went on for several more weeks, until just as suddenly as they had started the raids stopped.  The police never found the culprits, and no further attacks were reported.  In time, the victims had put their experiences behind them, and the police placed the reports in the “Unsolved” section of their files.

 

Truth, however, can often be stranger than fiction…..

 

 

 

 

Georgia rang the doorbell of her partner Wilma’s house, tapping impatiently with her foot as she waited for her to come to the door.  She was wearing a white skirt with a green floral and black band around the waist, and a matching zipped top with black details.

 

Eventually, Wilma came to the door.  Opening the large glass panel, she said to Georgia “What’s up – I thought we weren’t doing another job for a few days?”  She looked at her partner, her arms crossed over her brown vest top and the wind blowing her long patterned skirt around.

 

“Change of plan, Wilma – I thought we’d hit one last target before we took that holiday.”

 

“Oh yeah – who did you have in mind?”

 

“You – come in Bert.”

 

Wilma looked at the man who approached her, the pistol pointing in her direction, and slowly raised her hands.  “What the hell is this, Georgia,” she said with more than a hint of anger in her voice.

 

“I’m cutting you out of the deal, Wilma dear,” Georgia said with a smile.  “Now, get inside – there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.”

 

The man merely smiled as he waved the gun in the direction of the house.  Wilma grimaced, but led the way back in, Georgia closing the door behind the party of three.

 

“All right,” Wilma said as they stopped in front of her couch, “Just what are you planning on doing?”

 

“Oh, I’ll take what you have here from our little visits, and then leave you while I skip town.  Simply, really.”

 

“Very – so what are you going to do with me?”

 

“Bert?”

 

“Take you top off,” the man said as he stepped forward.  Frowning, Wilma reached down and grabbed hold of the hem of her top, pulling it over her head and letting it drop to the floor.

 

“Very nice,” Georgia said with a smile as Wilma stood there in her light beige bra.  “I’ll let you keep the belly button stud, but everything else you have I’m taking.”

 

“And if I refuse?”

 

“You won’t – take your bra off.”

 

“I thought….”

 

“You thought the Bra Bandits would strike again?  No, Wilma – for you we’re going the extra mile.  Take it off.”

 

“All right,” the blonde replied as she reached round and undid the fastenings at her back.  Letting the bra slip off her shoulders, she allowed it to drop to the floor.  “Now what?”

 

She regretted asking that question ten minutes later as she sat naked on the couch, the only thing on her the white tape that covered her mouth.  The same tape had been used to secure her wrists together behind her back, and she could only watch as Georgia and Bert stuffed into a set of bags her belongings.

 

“Let me make you more comfortable,” Georgia said as she knelt in front of Wilma and started to tape her ankles together.  “No hard feelings, Wilma, but all’s fair and all that.”

 

Her former partner said nothing as she watched the other two leave the room.  She sat there for five minutes, before forcing herself onto her feet and making her way over to the telephone table.  Georgia had pulled the wire from the wall, but Wilma still pressed down on the hash key three times, before hopping back and sitting on the couch.

 

 

Another five minutes passed before her front door opened and two men stepped in.  Walking over to Wilma, one carefully peeled the tape away from her mouth and removed the handkerchief that was underneath, while the other poured a glass of whisky for Wilma.

 

“You were right,” she said a few minutes later as she held the glass, having first put on the robe the other man had found.  “She did double cross me.  What made you suspect her?”

 

“The accounts of what you returned didn’t add up.  We knew you were clean, so our suspicions fell on her.”

 

“So what now?”

 

“Now – you take a nice long holiday.  We’ve asked some specialists to deal with Georgia.”

 

 

 

“Don’t worry, Bert – I’ll see you in an hour.  Bye now!”

 

Georgia switched off her mobile phone and smiled.  Sitting in a wicker chair, wearing only a white camisole top and knickers, she felt as if she had had a really good day, and the night was going to be even better.

 

“Bert, you poor sap, you won’t know what hit you when you get here and find me gone,” she said to herself.  Stretching her arms up above her head, she was therefore surprised when someone grabbed her wrists and pulled them down over her head with one hand, while putting the other over her mouth.

 

“Don’t worry about Bert,” a deep voice said behind her, “You have more than enough problems to occupy your mind.”

 

Looking over her shoulder, Georgia could see a tall man, dressed in t-shirt and jeans with a balaclava covering his head.  She had drawn her legs up when she had first been grabbed, and now was wondering just what was going on.

 

“Wilma sends her regards, as do the board of the Burglar’s Association, Georgia.  Stand up – now!”

 

The dark haired girl stood up, the hand still over her mouth and her wrists still held together as the man started to frog march her into the house.

 

“The BA does not take kindly to those who double cross their members, Georgia – which is why I’m here.  They have commissioned my employers to make sure you never, ever do such a thing again, and All Secured Security Services always finish to the customer’s satisfaction.

 

“You and I are going to take a little trip to some men who want to talk to you.  Nod if you understand?”

 

Georgia nodded, wondering what was going to happen next.  Her answer came as they walked into her house, and she saw the bag of rope, tape and cloth sitting on her couch.  “Stand still,” the man said as he picked up the cloth and rolled into a ball, “and do nothing.”

 

It was swift work for him to gag Georgia, pushing the cloth into her mouth and taping it over and then to secure her wrists behind her back.  “Just relax,” he said as she tied the knot off and Georgia tried to look over her shoulder.  “Once we have you secured, we’ll be on our way.  When we go, reflect on how your dealing has led you to this – and be prepared for what comes afterwards.”

 

Georgia could only grunt in reply.

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