In Their Own Words – Young Discoveries
This week, on In Their Own Words, we talk to some
older women about their experiences when they were younger – specifically, in
the early Seventies – that shaped their lives from that time on. Some stories are explicit, so be aware of
this fact.
We start with Gloria, a retired businesswoman, and how
an encounter with one man shaped her career…
I had just graduated from LSE, and was beginning to
explore quite a few things in my newfound freedom. The night this happened, I was in a bar in
Soho, my dark hair in pigtails, wearing a red minidress with white polka dots,
the skirt barely covering my panties, as well as a pair of over the knee white
leather boots with a square heel.
Anyway, as I said, I was having a drink, when this man
sat next to me and said “can I buy you another?” He was tall. thin, and looked a bit like
Roger Moore in his suit, waistcoat, shirt, and tie.
“Sure,” I said, “I’ll have another Babycham.” He indicated to the barman, and we talked for
a while before he said “so, do you have a boyfriend?”
“No – why are you asking?”
He smiled, and then whispered into my ear “I can make
you feel incredible, if you let me.”
Well, I was intrigued, so we went back to his flat
which was nearby – and I asked what e was going to do.
“Show you the pleasure of helplessness,” he said with
a smile, “if you are brave enough.”
“how?”
“Allow me to use this,” he said as he opened a box,
and took out a length of white cord. I
must have stared at him, as he said “what is your name?”
“Gloria…”
“Gloria, I promise you I have no intention f harming
or robbing you – I merely wish you to have the experience,” he said with a
smile, “but if you wish to leave…”
Something in his manner made me relax, so I said “all right – what do
you want me to do?”
“Put your hands behind your back.”
Why I did it, to this day I’m not quite sure, but I
did so, looking over my shoulder as he wrapped the rope around my wrists and
secured them tightly together. I’d read
books, seen the television programs where the girl is taken hostage, and I
thought it would hurt – but it didn’t.
In fact, I was surprised at how nice it felt as he tied the ropes off,
and then produced a longer length.
“What’s that for?”
“Let me show you,” he said with a smile as he doubled
it over, and wrapped it round my body below my chest – pulling it tight as my
arms were forced against me, and then he took it round me above my chest. He did this several times as I started to
feel more and more helpless, my arms against me, and the ropes pressing on my
chest, forcing it up and out, making me feel giddy…
I felt him tie the ropes off behind me, and then he
kissed me my ack, moving my hair out of the way – and I heard myself sigh at
the touch of his lips…
“Shall I continue?”
“Yes,” I whispered, opening my eyes as he took another
length of rope out of the box, and then came back, standing in front foe m as
he passed the rope around both bands between my breasts and then pull it tight,
bringing the bands together and pressing even more there, and then he let the
lengths drop to the floor.
I clearly remember saying “What are you going to do…”
and then the gasp as he reached between my legs and pulled the rope back,
feeling it press on my panties as the skirt of my dress was hiked up, the
rubbing there between my legs as he pulled It up and secured it behind my back.
“What… What
have you done,” I whispered as I twisted round, and felt the rope move on me –
and then I dropped to my knees, barely aware of the fact my ankles were being bound
together as tightly as my wrists, and then my legs below my knees.
“You feel it, don’t you,” he whispered into my ear
before he started to kiss my neck, and then stroked his hands over my breasts –
and I realized that the ropes were having an effect on them as well, as shivers
ran up and down my spine at his touch, and I squirmed round – which made the
rope rub more as I felt the dampness, felt the fire in me…
“Oh my god…”
“DO I need to help you to be quiet,” he whispered as
his hands gently squeezed my chest. I
nodded and then saw him produce a clean handkerchief – which he gently pushed
into my open mouth, muffling my moans as he started to massage my chest. I wriggled round, rubbing against him as he
held me, and the fire grew hotter and hotter.
It was crazy – he had bound and gagged me, but I wanted this, I wanted
what he was doing…
Then, eventually, my whole body started shaking and I
screamed, feeling the release, feeling the pleasure…
He taught me many things over the next few weeks, not
once actually making love to me himself, and yet opening my eyes to all the possibilities. It was thanks to him that six months later, I
took on a role in a specialist house in Soho – and eventually, I came to own
and run the business…
June also found a new business partner when she went
to a party at a friend’s house…
I was twenty, and had only just started to wear
glasses – those horrible gull winged ones which were popular at the time. My hair then was in a bob, and I was wearing
a white wool top which buttoned up the front, with a knee length dark skirt, a
coloured scarf round my waist as a belt.
I was also wearing black pumps – I thought I looked good, at any rate.
Problem was, it was the wrong sort of party – drinks
and cheese and pineapple on sticks, that sort of affair, and I seemed to be the
youngest girl there. As it turned out, I
wasn’t – there was another twenty-year-old there, wearing a dark blue
collarless jacket and skirt with a floral print blouse under the jacket, and
knee length black leather boots. She saw
me and walked over, before she said “I’m May – you bored as well?”
“Oh yes,” I said with a smile, “do you know what, I
fancy a coffee.”
“Sounds good to me,” May said as we put our glasses
down, and made our way to the kitchen – to find a jar of Maxwell House or at
the very least a bottle of Camps. Well,
that didn’t happen.
What we found instead was a masked man, who had the
hostess with him – a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, wearing a gold mini
dress – and a white scarf pulled between her lips, her hands behind her back.
“Damn,” the man said quietly, “Well, you both have to
come as well. Hands in the air, not a
word.” The gun he showed us reinforced
that demand, as May and I both put our hands in the air and followed him out
the back door of the house, across the garden and through a fence to where a
transit van was parked.
All three of us were forced inside, the hostess pushed
onto the floor as she watched him pick up some more brown ropes from the floor
of the van, and then walk behind us. It
didn’t take long for him to bind my wrists together behind my back, and then he
pulled May’s behind her as well.
I swear, I saw her wink at me, as he bound er wrist,
and then we were both gagged with rolled up white scarves as well, before we
were made to sit on the floor. He got
out, the van plunged into darkness before we felt it move off, and I wondered
what was going to happen.
“Well, he’s a bit of an amateur, isn’t he?”
I turned my head sharpy to see May had pushed the rolled-up
scarf out of her mouth, the wet material on her blouse.
“Hwddhdhuh…”
“Teach you one day if you want,” she said with a
smile, “for now, lean forward, I’ll loosen the knot and get that out of your
mouth, then untie your hands.”
“Hnddhw,” I mumbled as I felt her picking at the base
of my neck with her teeth, “hwwhnhhrth are you going to unite my hands with
yours tied as well?
“Who says they’re tied,” May said quietly as she
brought her hands round, and then untied my wrists. As I rubbed them, she untied and ungagged the
hostess, saying “sorry about that, my dear lady – he took me by surprise, and I
had to play along.”
“I understand,” she said quietly, “so what now?”
May looked round, and then picked up a crowbar. “Now…
We wait for him to stop…”
That was how I learned May was a professional
bodyguard – and she needed an office manager.
She employed me the next day – once the police had cleaned up after her…
Sharon was only six when she, her mother and her twin brother
were the victims of a home invasion…
It was a few days before Christmas – Dean, my brother,
my mother, and I had been to a Christmas party.
I remember Mum was wearing a white wool waistcoat over a red roll neck
jersey, a tartan skirt, and white knee length PVC boots that laced up the
front. Dean was wearing a checked shirt,
blue jeans, and a pair of black shoes over purple socks.
And me? I was
wearing a gingham dress with a two-tiered skirt, and q red upper body, as well as
puffed sleeves. I was also wearing black
sandals – yeah, I know, winter, but I wanted to.
So we got home, we walked into the house, we walked
into the front room, Mum turned on the light – and there was Santa Claus! Only he wasn’t leaving presents – he was
putting Mum’s jewelry into a bag. He
looked at us, and then he pointed a gun at us as he told us all to sit down on
the couch, with our hands on our heads.
I readily admit, I was scared, and so was Dean, but
Mum remained calm, and assured us we were all going to be all right, and Santa
Claus was not going to do anything to hurt us.
“Are you,” she said as she looked at him, and he shook
his head, str4okign his white beard as he said he was going to make us like presents. I wondered what he meant, as he took a roll
of red ribbon from his bag, and then told Mum to put her hands together in
front of her.
Dean and I watched as he wrapped the red ribbon round
Mum’s wrists, holding them together as she kept talking to us, reassuring us
everything was going to be all right. He
then put her wrists down on her lap, and wrapped it round her legs, and then
took it down and wound it tightly round her ankles so that she was unable to
move.
Dean was next, Mum rubbing her head on his as I
watched Santa making sure his hands and legs were secured together with the
ribbon as well. Mum was twisting her
legs round, her boots squeaking as they rubbed together. He then knelt in front of me as I put my
hands together, feeling the soft ribbon on my wrists as they were tied
together, and then as my skirt was gathered round my legs – and finally my
ankles. I was surprised at how tight it
was – and it tickled a little as well as I twisted round.
“Now, you all need to be quiet for a little while,”
Santa said as he produced a roll of Elastoplast from his bag. Mum told us both just to remain calm and
quiet, she was there for us whatever happened – and then she didn’t say much as
he tore a strip of the sticking plaster from the roll, and pressed it down over
her lips.
He did it to me next – it felt funny, and the tugging
on my skin round my mouth was strange, but I knew Mum was with us, so I wasn’t
afraid about the fact I could not say anything.
Santa then covered Dean’s mouth with the sticking
plaster, before he said “ho ho ho – MERRY CHRISTMAS” and left us there until
Dad came home.
The thing was, I saw how Mum helped us stay clam and
helped us to deal with it – so I decided there and then I was going to help
others who had the same experience as us.
Which I do now, as a counsellor…
Yvonne was a struggling actress, who had a place as an
understudy to Sharon, in a West End play – then she learned a valuable lesson…
The life of the understudy is never much fun – you
don’t step in unless the main actress is ill or cannot make the performance,
and Sharon was famous for her commitment to attend.
So when she invited me to go to her flat one Sunday
afternoon, to help her with the reading for a new role, I felt as if I was just
the assistant. Not that I refused – hell
no, it was still a learning opportunity.
So I walked from Kensington underground station, wearing a grey shift
dress which barely covered the top of my stockings, as well as a pair of white
mid-calf go-go boots.
As I found the street, and then the flat, I wondered
what was going to happen – so I took a deep breath, and then rang the bell with
her name next to it.
“Yes?”
I was surprised to hear a male voice, so I said “this
is Yvonne – is Sharon there?”
After a few minutes silence, the voice said “she is,
but she’s a little tied up at the moment.”
“She is? She
asked me to come round…”
Again, there was silence, and then I heard a buzzing
as the voice said “come up – second floor, left hand door. Just let yourself in and come to the main
room.”
I pushed on the door as it opened, before I walked up
the stairs to the second floor – and then turned the handle on the flat door,
finding it opened just fine. I came in,
and closed the door, before I called out “Sharon?”
There was no reply, so I walked down her very smart corridor
and went into the main room. Sharon was
there, her dark hair piled on her head, and wearing a figure-hugging silver
dress with a back fabric abstract print on it, as well as over the knee white
boots with a short heel.
She wasn’t saying much, however – because of the white
tape that was covering her mouth, the shape of her lips clearly visible
underneath as she sat in the chair.
I could also see the white rope round her ankles and
her legs, holding them to the front legs of the chair, and then around er upper
body, holding it against the chair back.
She was twisting round, shaking her head – and then #i felt the gun
against my back, as the voice said “well, guess what you’re going to do now?”
“Sit down and put my hands behind my back?”
“Good guess,” he said as I was made to sit in another
chair facing Sharon, feeling whoever this man was pull my arms round the chair
back, and then the rope round my wrists as they were bound tightly together,
and then secured to the center spar of the chair back.
“Hmshreee,” Sharon mumbled, the tape moving with her
lips a is felt the rope pulling me against the chair back, making sure there
was no way I was getting off. I felt the
rug behind me, and then there was this soft peeling sound before he pressed the
white tape over my mouth as well.
He then walked in front of me – early twenties,
wearing a striped waistcoat over a white sweater and jeans, and smiling as he
pulled my ankle against the chair leg and secured the two together with rope,
then a second length round my leg just below the chair seat.
My right leg
was then secured in the same way, Sharon twisting round before he said “well,
you two have a lot to talk about obviously, if you can – which I doubt.”
“Hreefhnee,” I heard myself say as he walked off,
Sharon an di looking at each other before we tried to twist our mouths, find
some give in the rope – anything to try and get free.
It was a few hours later when Sharon’s PA found and
released us – but to my surprise Sharon was grateful I had been there as
well. She then invited me to audition
for the part she was going for – and that was the step to success for me…
Finally, this week, Barbara finds love in an
unexpected way…
I met Katy that Saturday afternoon to go to the record
store and the local Wimpy – we were in the same English class for A-levels, and
she was after a soundtrack to the adaptation of Macbeth that had just been
released.
I was wearing a fawn coloured sweater and a lighter
brown corduroy skirt, with long black leather boots, my handbag over my
shoulder as I met her in the record store.
Katy was also wearing a jumper – hers was chocolate brown, matching the
colour of her long boots, while her skirt was the same colour as mine, but made
from suede and pleated.
We both also had long dark brown hair, and greeted
each other with a hug before we searched through the racks of vinyl –
successfully, so that we made our way to Wimpy for a burger and fries very
happy indeed.
As she sipped her shake, Katy said “want to come back
t my place, listen to it over some coffee?”
“Sure,” I said – and that was how it started.
Because when we got back to her house, Katy thought
her mother and father would be home.
They were – but so were a group of masked men, two of whom grabbed us as
we walked in and made us stand facing the wall as our wrists were tied together
behind our backs. They were wearing
boiler suits, leather gloves and black balaclavas – and as Katy looked at me, I
could hear her parents upstairs.
We were forced to go into the front room, one of the
men closing the door before the other picked up a long length of rope, and
started to secure her arms to her sides.
It formed two bands which stretched her jumper over her chest – and for
some reason, I could not take my eyes off her.
“That’s – tight,” she whispered as the ropes were
pulled together behind her back – and then she saw me looking at her.
“Sorry,” I whispered as I averted my eyes.
“What for?”
“It’s just…” I
then felt the rope on my own arms as they were forced against my sides, and my
own jumper was stretched over my chest.
Katy was looking at me now, as the ropes got tighter and tighter – and
then the masked man stood in front of me, and tied a rope between my breasts,
pulling the bands together.
“Oh my…” The
rope was then pulled up between my legs, rubbing on my skirt and – other places
as it was secured behind me. I then
heard Katy gasp – and saw the second man was doing the same to her, her breasts
now encircled in rope as she closed her eyes.
She looked so cute…
“Sit down.”
We were both forced to sit on the couch, watching as
our ankles were secured together, and then our legs below the knees, the rope
going between our legs in both places as we tried not to move.
I could hear muffled calls and crying from upstairs,
before Katy and I were both forced to kneel down, and we saw the men open their
pants…
It was the first time I had done that, and afterwards
they covered our mouths with silver tape, before we were made to lie on our
sides, our ankles pulled back and tied to our chest ropes. We looked at each other as we heard
footsteps, and then the door open and close.
Katy then tried to move, her skirt and boots squeaking
as she did so – and so did I, but then I felt the ropes rubbing as well and I
groaned. I heard Katy groan as we looked
at each other – and then for some reason we put our tape covered mouths
together as we wriggled.
It just felt so good, so right, and we discovered an
important fact then – a fact which means we recently celebrated out fiftieth anniversary
as a couple…
You have been watching In Their Own Words – join us
again soon…
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