A Voice in the Night
Thursday 18th February
W 48th Street, New York
“And that’s all this week from me, Jeanne Beckman, and this Fashion Week special of the Beckman Report. I’ll see you next week, but for now, have a good night.”
Suzanne Reedman stood up and stretched, picking up the remote control and turning off the television before she went to her kitchen. She had spent a long week supporting the team she worked for at Vogue, making sure the blog entries for the shows were kept up to date.
It had been an amazing week as well. Although her own national tastes were middle of the road, she had enjoyed the contrast of the extremes – at one end, the Kanye West show.
One particular comment from a chat show host had stuck in her mind, purely because the timing has been perfect. “The rumour that Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson offered to walk for Kanye in character, but were turned down as too conservative, was only partially true. The truth was they were too talented.”
Then at the other end, there had been the APCO and Kevin Wu shows. Classic lines, comfortable look, and a range of models from the new finds, like Katy Carter, Orion O’Ryan and Mary Clarke, to the true grand dames of the fashion world, had brought the right sort of attention to both houses.
Opening the icebox, Suzanne looked in and wondered what she was going to eat. Eventually, she settled for taking a bottle of wine out and pouring herself a glass, sipping gently before she picked up a Thai menu and looked at it.
As she walked into the front room, she caught a look at herself in the mirror. Given this was a day off, she wasn’t in her usual work clothes, but wearing a long blue t-shirt over a pair of grey leggings, and an old pair of slippers.
“All right then,” she said to herself as she looked down the menu, “what can I have tonight and what can I order for another day...”
It was as she was looking at the range of noodle dishes that she heard the noise in her bedroom. “Now what on earth could that be,” Suzanne said to herself as she put the menu and her glass down, and walked into her bedroom. It was lit by the hall light from outside, so that she could see her bed, the dressing table, and the curtains as they blew softly into the room.
It took her a moment to register that last fact, as she walked slowly into the room, wondering if she had left the window open earlier. It was only as she got close to the window that she sensed she was not alone in the room.
“Who’s there,” Suzanne whispered as she heard the movement behind her.
“Very slowly, turn round, and raise your hands in the air.”
As Suzanne turned round, she saw the figure in the shadows, light reflecting in an unusual way from whatever she was wearing. That wasn’t the important thing though – what was catching her attention was the fact the lower half of her face was covered by something, allowing only the clear blue eyes to be seen under the fringe of the shoulder length dark hair.
Two other things had caught her eye – the fact it was a female voice, and the fact there was something pointing at her that looked horrifyingly like a pistol.
As she raised her hands, the figure reached over and turned the light on – allowing Suzanne the chance to see the intruder for the first time. She wasn’t much taller than Suzanne, but her actual height was difficult to tell. The knee length black patent leather boots had four inch heels, but she walked on them like a practiced model.
The boots covered the lower legs of a black latex catsuit, the zip at the front pulled up to the intruder’s throat – but it left little to the imagination as to the build of the woman, as the latex hugged her curves.
A pair of long gloves covered her hands, one of which was holding a very real gun as she pointed it at Suzanne, the other holding a small holdall. The only other thing she was wearing was a black silk scarf, folded in a triangle and tied round her head, covering her mouth and nose as she looked at the young woman.
“You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you?”
Suzanne nodded slowly as the woman walked over, her hips swaying. “That’s good,” she said quietly, “your bed looks comfortable. Lie face down on it.”
“Unless you wish to be hurt,” the intruder whispered in a dangerous voice, “lie down.
Suzanne nodded as she walked over and lay down, looking to the side as the masked woman put the bag she was carrying on the bed next to her. As she opened it, she took out a thin black plastic strip, and took hold of Suzanne’s left arm. Bending it at the elbow, so that her wrist was against her forearm, she wrapped the strip round, feeding the end through a hasp and then pulling tight with one tug so that her arm was held in a bent double position.
“That hurts,” Suzanne said as she looked at her arm, her hand waving and unable to do anything, as the masked woman walked round and secured her other arm in the same way. The plastic strip dug into her skin, before she felt the woman pull her left ankle back, using another zip tie to secure it to the back of her thigh, and then repeating the process on the other side.
“There,” she said as she gave the fourth zip tie one last, sharp tug, and then smacked her bottom, “now, tell me where you keep your lovely valuables.”
“In... In the top drawers,” Suzanne said, wondering why this woman had done this. She rolled onto her side, watching as the masked woman walked over and emptied the contents of the top drawers onto the floor – everything except her jewels, which went into a sack which she then placed into the bag.
The strips were digging into her soft flesh, but the way her hands were secured, there was nothing she could do about it – all she could hope was this woman would rob her, and leave her until she could raise the alarm.
“Nice things,” she said from under the silk scarf as she walked over, and used the back of her hand to stroke Suzanne’s cheeks, “but I think we should have some fun now.”
“What do you meaannnbthss,” Suzanne said as the woman rolled her back onto her stomach, and drew a length of rope from her bag. She tied one end of it round Suzanne’s left elbow, cinching it as well, and then pulled it along her back, tying the other end round her right elbow so that they were drawn together behind her – not touching, but secured together.
“I know – isn’t it delightful,” the woman purred as she forced Suzanne’s ankles together, and used a second length of rope to lash them together. As she was rolled onto her back, Suzanne was forced to rest on her folded arms, her knees spread apart as she saw the woman take a scalpel from her bag.
She started by cutting Suzanne’s t-shirt from neck to hem, and down the sleeves, pulling it off her and exposing her white bra. “Oh look at them,” she purred as she saw Suzanne’s nipples through the lace bra, and then grabbed it with her hands, squeezing hard as Suzanne cried out in surprise and pain.
Her grip didn’t lessen as she groped and squeezed, Suzanne trying to get out of the way, but given she was trussed like a chicken for roasting, there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as the masked woman took the scalpel, and cut her bra away, her gloved fingers sinking deep into her breasts as she teased and groped and...
Suzanne screamed out in pain as the woman fastened a pair of metal clamps to her nipples, the edges clamping onto her nipples as she looked at the chain connecting them. The pain was searing, and only increased as the masked woman laughed, her finger pulling on the chain.
“Oh you think that hurts – just wait.”
She felt the woman pull her leggings down, the scalpel flat against her hip, and then the cold air on her clit as her panties were cut away.
“Open your mouth.”
Suzanne clamped her lips shut, shaking her head, unwilling to allow them to go where she thought they should go – and then she felt the hard slap on her cheek.
“Open... Your... Mouth.”
“Oh dear,” the woman said as she flashed the scalpel round, and then pressed the flat of the blade against her throat.
Suzanne looked into the blue eyes, and then nodded as she opened her mouth, trying not to retch as the panties were stuffed in – and then a second pair, not her own, but as wet and soiled were pushed in as well. She looked up as the woman took a roll of black tape from her bag, and then wrapped it tightly round Suzanne’s head, sealing her lips as she felt the burning in her chest.
“There – now for the finishing touch.”
Suzanne could only watch as she produced a chain with two hooks – one of which she clipped between her breasts, before she pulled down.
Suzanne closed her eyes and screamed as she was rolled onto her stomach, and the chain pulled up between her legs, the metal sinking between her wet lips as she took it between her ankles, and then yanked it back, the pain increasing as she clipped it around the rope between her elbows.
She could barely move – and when she did, the metal rubbing on her was driving her crazy, the pain ebbing and flowing, the feelings inside her just growing stronger and stronger.
She could only watch through eyes misting with tears – tears of what she didn’t know – as the woman put her valuables into the bag, close it, and then take one last look at her before she left the room...