I’d been out for Sunday lunch with some friends, and I’d had a really good time, talking about men and other less important matters.  This would have been back in the autumn, because I was wearing a long grey cardigan and grey pants with a white top, and my favourite tan leather over the knee boots.  I also had a cream woollen scarf tied round my neck, and a grey cap over my blonde hair.


So I guess I was a typical good looking girl at the pub on a Sunday.  Nothing really special, even if I did look good in that outfit.  I certainly enjoyed my time however, as I walked home and let myself into my house.


I’d intended to make some coffee, and then slob out in front of the television.  Well, the latter did happen I suppose – but not the former, because as soon as I walked into the kitchen I was grabbed from behind, a hand clamped over my mouth, and I felt the blade of one of my chopping knives against my throat.


A woman spoke, telling me to keep quiet and do exactly what she said – well, all I could do was nod and whimper, as I was frogmarched back into my front room.  As she let go of me, I turned round and saw a dark haired woman, about the same height and build as me, wearing a blue denim blouse, jeans and shoes.


She looked me up and down, the knife still in her hand, and then she said something I was not expecting.


“Nice clothes – strip.”


I tried to protest, but it was no good – she just looked at me, and raised the knife, so I took my hat and scarf off, and laid them on a seat.  I then slipped my cardigan down my arms and placed it on there as well, before sitting down and pulling off my boots.


“Okay,” she said as I put them to the side, “sit down over there, and then take your top off.  Hand it to me, and sit with your hands on your head.”


I did what she asked, sitting down and pulling my top off as I watched her take her blouse off.  It was only when I handed it to her, and watched her pull the top over her own head, that it suddenly came to me she was going to take my clothes!


“Nice fit,” she said with a smile, “now take those pants off.”


I eased the grey pants off as I sat there, and then handed her to them as she put them with the rest of my clothes.


“Okay – lean forward, and very slowly put your hands behind your back.”


As I did this, I saw her walk behind me – and then I heard a sound like ripping, and I felt something stick to my left wrist before she crossed them, and they were taped tightly together.  She then pulled me back, and I watched as she wound duct tape round my arms and upper body, making two bands above and below my chest as I sat there in my bra, hose and panties.


Once she had finished that, she wound the tape round my head, sealing my mouth – but at least she lifted my hair out of the way.  I then watched her as she put on my pants, my cardigan, tied my scarf round her neck – and then pulled MY LEATHER BOOTS up her legs, smiling as she stood up, walked over to me and knelt down.


I watched as she taped my ankles together, and then my legs above and below my knees, ruining my hose at the same time, before she lifted my legs up and made me lie down, my head hitting the cushion as she walked back and put my scarf round her neck, and my hat on her head, before she took my purse and walked out.


It took me hours to finally free myself enough to call the police – which is when I discovered she was an escaped prisoner, and I had been very, very lucky.  Seems I might have been her type – but I wasn’t.


Which, as I learned some time later, was luckier than other women would be...





Chinese New Year is a time for celebration, but when you live on you own the real fun is a few days beforehand, when it is time to try and get home.  Which is why, on this particular day, I was at home packing my suitcase and making sure I had everything in place before I went off to the airport.


I’d closed my case up, and was grabbing a drink of water before I called for the taxi to take me to the terminal.  I always dry and dress comfortably for a long flight, so I was wearing a red and white tartan coat dress, with short sleeves and a black leather belt tied round my waist, black leggings and black knee length leather boots.


So when the bell for the front door of my apartment rang, I ignored the sirens I could hear approaching, and went to see who was calling.  Which, when you look back, was probably the single most stupid thing I did that day.


Actually, that’s not quite true – the most stupid thing was opening the door, and letting the woman with the gun in.  Of course, I only realised that when she pushed me against the wall, her hand over my mouth and the gun against my head, as she growled at me to keep quiet.


Like I had a choice?  I could only look at her as we heard footsteps running past, and then she looked at me.  She was wearing a black leather jacket, leggings and knee length boots, as she seemed to be eyeing me up and down.


“Okay,” she eventually said, “you’re going to do what I tell you, aren’t you?”


I nodded as I looked at her, her short dark hair cut in the same way as mine, and then at the case.


“Okay – do as I say, you don’t get hurt.  Understand?”


I nodded as she took a handkerchief from her pocket, and then stuffed it into my mouth as she took her hand away.  “Okay – into your front room,” she said as she pushed me in, and then removed her jacket, taking off her t-shirt as well.


“Take your dress off.”


I stared at her, but then she motioned with her gun, so I took the belt away from my waist and then unbuttoned the dress, letting it fall to the floor.


“Bedroom – now.”


I nodded as we walked in, and she took a stocking from the chair.  Walking behind me, I grimaced as she pulled it between my lips, cutting into the corners of my mouth as she tied it round my head.


“Lie down on the bed, head on your pillows.”


She motioned again with the gun, so I lay down, watching as she looked in my wardrobe and took out four silk scarves.  A few minutes later, she had me tied spread-eagled, my arms and legs stretched out and tied to the four legs with the scarves.


“You’re cute,” she said as she stroked her hand down my body,” but I don’t have time to hang around.  Have fun.”


She left the room, and a few minutes later I saw her walking past the bedroom door, wearing my dress and belt and pulling my case along.  She smiled and waved as I screamed in protest, and left me in the flat, unable to raise the alarm as the silk bands held me in place.




It was several hours later when the police finally found and released me.  The woman had broken into the top floor flat in my block, bound and gagged the elderly woman living there, and was emptying her safe when she realised the woman had raised the alarm.  I was just the unlucky sap she had picked on to try and hide out while the police came – and when she saw we looked a bit alike, used my clothes and my case to get past the police.







A typical Saturday morning, down at the local Tesco’s, doing the shopping for the family.  Honestly, that was all it was.  I wasn’t even dressed for anything other than shopping.  Not a pair of Ugg boots over pyjamas or a onesie, and a coat – but I was wearing an olive coloured top with a breast pocket, dark tights and old brown mid-calf strapped boots.


Anyway, I was pushing my trolley along when I saw some security staff running across the floor, and towards the back of the building.  Something must have been going on, but right then, god’s honest truth – I just wanted to get my things back to the car, and drive home.


So I went to the counter, paid the bill, pushed the trolley to my car and opened the boot, putting the toilet rolls and other bags in.  Closing it again, I walked round and got behind the wheel, reversed out of the space and set off – which was when I heard her say “that is a gun you feel pressing against your back – drive normally, do not raise the alarm, I will tell you where to go.”


I was been hijacked?  I thought this sort of thing happened in movies or on television – but there was something pressing against my back, so I drove off, as if I was heading home.


“Head to the motorway, then west.”


I nodded and whispered “may I put the radio on?”


“Why not – it will help pass the time.”


We drove for about an hour, before she said “there are some services coming up.  Pull in, in a nice quiet corner.”


I nodded as I turned left, and then stopped the car at the far side of the car park.  I heard the door behind me open and close, and then the woman said “get out.”


As we did so, I saw her for the first time – about my height and build, with shorter blonde hair than me.  She was wearing a grey jersey dress and shoes, and her coat was over her arm – but I could see the gun under the coat.


“Let’s go,” she said as she took my arm, and walked me to the service area, and from there into the ladies toilets.  She looked round and then opened the disabled toilet, ushering me in and closing the door behind us.


“Okay,” she eventually said, “take off your top, your tights and your leggings.”


I started to protest, but the gun – well, it was very persuasive, and so I sat on the toilet seat and stripped off, leaving me in my black bra and panties.  She nodded as she looked at me, and then removed her own shoes and tights – before using them to bind my wrists together above my head, and secure them to a pipe to one side.


She then removed her own dress, and put my own tights and top on, before she put my boots on her feet.  She then searched for a moment in her coat pocket, before taking out a roll of white tape, and using it to secure my ankles together, as well as my legs below my knees.


“Sorry about this,” she eventually said, “but I need your purse and your car.  A stupid idiot didn’t do what he was meant to do, and you get to pay the price.”


Tearing the end of the roll of tape free, she wrapped it round my head to keep me quiet, and then walked out with my purse, leaving me in the toilets trying to call for help.



I found out what happened later – how there had been an attempted robbery at the store, someone tripped the alarm, and a man got caught, but his female accomplice escaped.  The same female who kidnapped me – it was only after a cleaner found me that I was released, treated and allowed to come home...




I was getting ready to go to the club with the girls – and I was dressed for a dance off, with a blue and white frilly blouse, denim miniskirt with a fayed hem, and dark tights.  I also had a pair of black pumps on, and I was all ready for the night out.


So opening the door, and finding instead a woman in an olive coloured top, dark tights and brown boots, pointing a gun at me and ordering me back in?  Not quite what I was expecting...


She made me walk backwards, and then closed the door behind herself, smiling as she looked at me – and then ordered me to take my blouse and skirt off.  My shoes as well, for good measure.


Well, I didn’t have a choice did I?  I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off, and then y skirt and shoes, as she watched me.  She then asked me if I had any rope.  That was when I knew she was going to tie me up, and she had the gun...


I told her I had some washing line in the kitchen, so she made me walk into the room and take it out, as well as a pair of scissors.  She then marched me into the front room, and made me kneel in front of the couch, with my hands behind my back.


I heard her cutting something, and then the nylon rope around my bare wrists as she tied them together, the cords going around and between my arms.  I tried not to cry out, but it did hurt a bit – and it hurt even more as I heard her use the scissors again, and then cross my ankles before she tied them together. 


She whispered something into my ear, and then I presume she cut another length off – but she started to use the rest to tie my arms to my sides, the rope pulling them in as it went above and below my chest, framing my white bra.


As she tied the rope off, I was wondering what she was going to do – and then she pinched my nose, making me open my mouth as she pushed a folded cloth into it, before she used her tights – her own tights – as a gag to keep them in place, the gusset also going into my mouth as the legs were wrapped round my head to keep them in place.


I was then made to turn round and sit on the floor, the taste of her dirty hose in my mouth as I saw her remove her top, and her boots to one side.  She used the last length of rope to tie my legs together below my knees, and then put on my skirt and blouse, as well as my shoes.


She smiled at me, and then left me alone.  Which is how I’ve been for the last two hours, unable to move, the room getting darker and darker, wondering if someone will ever come and find me...?







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