I know Hannah only wanted to help, but how can I explain what exactly happened to me that afternoon and night – I’m not exactly sure I understand what happened to me either.
I’d stayed on at school until about four o’clock, and made my way home over the rugby park and under the railway to the house. I had my own key, so when I unlocked the door and let myself in I didn’t know anything was wrong – not at first anyway.
Going up to my room, I dropped my bag on the bed and sat down at my table. My wellington boots had already been left at the front door, so I took off the wet socks I had on, and got a clean pair of white short ones from the drawer. I hadn’t changed out of my white blouse and grey skirt – not at that point anyway – but when I heard the noise in the kitchen I thought Mum had come back in and thought nothing of it. Sitting down at the table in my room, I took out my history books and started to read through the homework I had been given that day.
I was soon engrossed in the Communist Russia research, and honestly didn’t hear the footsteps n the stairs or my door opening. The first inkling I had that something was wrong was when this gloved hand was clamped over my mouth, and I heard a man saying “Don’t scream – I’m not going to hurt you.”
Looking in the vanity mirror, I saw a dark boiler suit on someone, but the scent from the leather glove was beginning to overpower me. The man said “I have a gun here, but I don’t want to use it unless you make me. If I take away my hand, do you promise not to scream?” I nodded mutely and sat still as he turned my seat round to look at him.
He was a little taller than me – about five foot eight – and I could see short blonde hair through the dark stocking that he had pulled over his head. He smiled as he said “Don’t be afraid now – I just need to stay here for a little while, and hopefully you’ll have a tale to tell your school friends tomorrow.”
“What are you going to do to me?” I said with a whisper. He was about to open his mouth when we both heard the front door open, and my mother call out “Jackie, are you home?” He came behind me, one hand on my shoulder, and whispered “Answer your mother – tell her where you are.”
“I… I’m in my room,” I shouted out, as I felt a small cold piece of metal against the back of my head. There was the sound of footsteps on the stair, and a swishing sound as my mother came into the room, stopping dead still when she saw the man standing behind me.
She was wearing a brown sweater with a suede waistcoat over it, and a brown corduroy skirt that came down to the floor. She stood there, looking first at me than at the man behind me, before demanding to know who the hell he was and what he was doing in their house. His reply was to press something against the back of my head, and tell my mother to – well, his language was a little strong, but the gist of it was to shut up and do what he said or I would be the one who got hurt.
She looked at me, and I gasped as she slowly raised her hands above her head. I thought when he said he had a gun it was just a bluff, but as he walked round and stood between us I could see the gleam on the metal from the sun through my window, and I suddenly felt scared – and wet. Both the man and my mum looked at me, and he said “I think you should change now,” with a slight smile visible through the nylon.
“Please, can’t you just go,” my mum said, and I could see a tear starting to flow down her cheek. He stood there for a moment, then said “Nope – get changed and then we’ll go into your mother’s bedroom.”
I was forced to stand up and let my wet panties and skirt drop to the floor, before they watched me go to my drawers and take out a clean pair of pants. Pulling them up over my crotch, I then went to the wardrobe and took out a pair of blue track suit bottoms, which I pulled up over my legs. I then took my blouse off and pulled on a blue t-shirt, before looking at the armed intruder as he took my mother by the arm.
“Let’s go,” he said as he waved the gun at me, and we went into my parent’s bedroom. I hadn’t noticed before that he had a rucksack over his back, which he took off after he made my mother and I sit on the double bed. I was shaking slightly, but what I could not admit to either my mother or even myself at that time was why I was shaking. It’s only afterwards that I realised it was not just fear that was causing this.
You see, I love all those stories of the Famous Five, the Secret Seven, as well as the shows like Freewheelers, Follyfoot, Black Beauty – all where there has been one or more girl taken hostage, kidnapped, forced into a robbery, and I’d often wondered what it would be like to be in that situation. Well, here it was, really happening, and although I was scared there was something else going on.
Mum put her arms around me to try and offer some comfort as we watched the man opening his sack and take out some lengths of neatly coiled white rope. “I need to talk to your husband when he gets home,” he said as he unravelled one coil, “and take him for a little trip. To do that, I need to make sure he will do what I ask, so I’m afraid the two of you are going to be a little tied up for a while.” He actually laughed when he said that, but my heart – well, I’m embarrassed to say it, but it leapt a little.
He handed the rope to my mother, who stared at it as it lay in his hand. “Tie your daughter’s hands behind her back,” he said as he pointed the gun at her. She tried to protest, but her just smiled and pointed the gun at her head. “Do it,” he said as he stood next to her. I didn’t want to see her hurt, so I just turned round and put my hands behind me, saying “It’s all right, mum,” as I did so.
Mum was a Guider, so she knew what she was doing when it came to knots and ropes. I was surprised at how well she tied them together, my palms against each other, and actually felt quite comfortable as she wrapped the rope around and between my wrists. As she tied the ends together, she asked “Are you all right?” and I nodded. I’d never been treated in this way before, and I thought I might actually enjoy it.
The man looked at the rope, and nodded as he took another length out. “Can I trust you to sit still for a few minutes,” he said, “Or do I have to get mummy here to do some more?” Well, I was eager to see what would happen, but I didn’t want to embarrass her anymore, so I whispered “no, I’ll be good.”
“Good girl,” he said as he took my mother by the arm and made her stand up in front of me. I could see her wince slightly as he pulled her wrists behind her back and started to wrap the second length of rope around them, securing them tightly. I could see how tightly as she looked over her shoulder and frowned. Another length of rope, and this time I saw my mother’s breasts start to stick out. As he looked up, he obviously saw a curious look on my face, for when he was finished he turned my mother around so that I could see what he had done.
Her wrists had been crossed and bound together, but it was the second length of rope that fascinated me. He had passed that around her arms above her elbows and pulled them together so that her elbows were almost touching. This had pulled my mother’s shoulders back, which explained the way her breasts had stuck out. He saw me looking intently, and leaning over he whispered into my ear “Does this excite you?” I must have involuntarily nodded, for he whispered “Don’t let your mother know – when I’ve finished with her, I’ll make you nice and secure as well.”
He stood up and turned her back round, taking a much larger coil of rope and unravelling that before passing it around her arms and chest below her breasts. As he pulled her arms tightly to her side, I saw the rope going over her jumper and waistcoat, tightly wrapping her upper body. I looked into her face and saw she was crying – but I wasn’t sue if it was embarrassment or fear, so I said “Are you all right, mum?”
“No,” was her reply, “I never thought this would happen to us, even with your father’s job. I’m just sorry you have to be here as well.” I love her, but right now I was fascinated with what was happening to her. The rope had gone above and below her breasts, and I knew it was holding her firm. I could not deny I was interested – and wondering what was going to happen to me with a growing anticipation.
The man seemed satisfied as he made my mum sit down on the bed. I saw behind her the intricate way he had tied the ropes so that her wrist were secured both together and to the binding around her arms. Her hands were balled into fists, although I did not know if it was fists of rage or something else.
I looked forward and saw that my mother’s skirt had risen up slightly to show the flat shoes she was wearing. The man was wrapping another length of rope around her ankles, pulling them together and passing the rope between her legs. I could see how it tightened the binding, making it impossible for her to shake them free as he tied the ends around her shoes and secured the ends together underneath.
He looked at me and smiled, before saying “Stand up and let your mother le on the bed.” He helped her move round so that she was sitting up, as he took more rope and passed it under her legs, moving it up until he had it above her knees and then pulling the two ends through the loop he had made and pulling. The rope squeaked as it rubbed against the material of her skirt, and as he passed it around several times the squeaking grew louder. Passing the ends under the coils and knotting them together, he repeated the process so that it looked as if the lower half of my mother’s body was a brown sausage.
I looked at her from my position at the foot of the bed, as the intruder brushed her long dark hair from her eyes and said “I hope you’re not too uncomfortable?” He sounded genuinely concerned, which I found difficult to reconcile with the way he had acted up until now. My mother moved her legs around a bit, the squeak of the corduroy accentuated by the silence, before saying “What now?”
“Now,” he said as he walked towards the wardrobe, “I make your daughter comfortable on her bed, but first I need to make sure you can’t let your husband know that I am here.” He opened the door, and took three scarves out from the set hanging on the back of the door. One was a thin chiffon neckerchief, while the other two were larger head scarves. He walked back over, balling the small scarf up and saying “Open wide.”
“Please, promise me you won’t hurt Jackie,” Mum said as she looked at me. I was so intent on watching the way she was bound, and listening to the squeak of rope on skirt, that I must have been in some sort of daze. “Jackie?” my mum asked, and I looked suddenly up at her.
“Sorry, mum – trying to forget what was going on,” I lied as the man stood next to her. “I promise she won’t be harmed,” he said, and my mum whispered “Thank you” before opening her mouth. He pushed the scarf in, rolled one of the larger ones into a band and tied a knot in the middle, then tied the knot into her mouth, securing the ends together at the base of her neck. The third scarf he used to blindfold her, before helping her to lie on her side on the bed.
“Come with me,” he said as he took me by the arm and led me out of the room, my eyes fixed on the wriggling form of my mother the whole time until we left. As we entered my room again, he closed the door and said “This the first time you’ve been tied up?” I nodded, and then he said “Have you had fantasies about this?”
“Yes,” I said as he put the bag on the floor and took a long length of rope out. “Well then,” he said with a smile, “Let’s make your first time a special experience. I want you to stand with your back to me, and I’ll make you nice and comfortable.”
I hate to say it, but I actually shivered with anticipation. I know my mother was scared out of her wits, but what I now see was it had made me more excited, more desiring of knowing what it was like to be secured. As I watched the rope going over my head, he whispered in my ear “I won’t pull your elbows together, but you will be secured.”
I wondered what he meant by that as he pulled the rope tightly around my arms, forcing my forearms into my side. He then passed the rope above my breasts, and I could see as he pulled it tighter the outline of my nipples through the thin cotton of my t-shirt. He passed the rope around several more times, pulling tighter each time, before I felt the two bands been pulled together behind my back.
I then felt the rope going over my right shoulder, and he reached over to pass the rope under the lower band of rope, pulling the ends through and passing them over my left shoulder. I could feel the band tightening under my breasts as he pulled the end, and then my own wrists been raised up against my back. I looked at myself in the mirror in my cupboard door, and saw that my breasts had almost been encased like a bra by the rope.
“How does that feel,” he said as he walked back round, and as I tried to wriggle round I felt – well, I felt comfortable and excited. “Very nice,” I caught myself saying, and he smiled. Well, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere, and I not only felt secure – I felt aroused.
“Hmm,” he said, “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you. Tell you what – I don’t do this for all the women I tie up, but for you…” He went back to the bag and took a length of rope out. Doubling it up, he walked behind me and I could feel him tugging at the ropes that held my arms and wrists in place. I heard the ends drop to the floor, and as he walked round I looked down to see the two ends of the rope between my legs.
I was surprised when he reached down, and even more when he pulled the rope between my legs and pulled it up between the ropes around my breasts, this time passing it through the top band and pulling down before her secured them to the front.
The pressure in my crotch – well, it was actually nice. I hate to say it, but I was starting to feel a little warm in my private area as he looked at me. “You like,” he said, and taking me by the arm he walked me round the room. The rope rubbed against my pants, and to my both horror and delight I started to moan a little. “Save it for later,” he said as he took me over to the bed, “for now, lie face down while I tie your feet and legs together.”
Believe it or not, I actually wanted to watch, but I had to be content to feel the rope go around the bell bottoms of my track suit and pull my ankles together. He’d crossed them, s that the toes of my left foot were resting on the mattress as the tightness increased until I could not separate them at all. I wriggled round, feeling the rope rubbing against my crotch and the warm feeling increase while he passed another length of rope around my legs and pull them tightly together so that they were made to feel as one. He rolled me over onto my side and I looked straight into his covered eyes.
“Comfy?” he said, and I nodded. I felt like Nancy Drew and George, like the girl in that episode of The Professionals last week where the gunman took over the house – totally unable to interfere.
I could move, and believe me the excitement seemed to be growing the more I wriggled around. I closed my eyes and thought of my mother in her bedroom, and that only made me move around even more.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” I heard him say, and I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me. “Listen – I need to keep you quiet as I did your mother. Close your eyes and let your imagination run riot.”
“Not yet,” I said. “I want you to do something for me.”
I could see his smile grow wider as he reached up and pulled the edge of the stocking up from round his neck, keeping his eyes and hair covered as he uncovered his mouth. Leaning over, he kissed me lightly on the lips, yet I felt a shock run through me. I opened my mouth to allow him to push a clean pair of my pants in, before he used my school tie to keep it in place.
As he came back over with one of my woollen scarves, I closed my eyes and felt the warm material cover the upper part of my face. I listened to the door closing and lay still, getting used to the feeling of helplessness even as the warmth in my crotch grow.
I moved my legs up and down on the bed, and felt the pressure growing as the rope rubbed against my tracksuit pants. I rolled over onto my side, slowly moving my legs up and down and twisting round to see what would happen. To my delight, not only did the warm feeling develop and grow, but so did a throbbing, a feeling that in all truth I had never experienced before and could not deny I liked. I started to moan, although all I heard was a muffled groan as the cotton stuffed into my mouth prevented anything understandable come out, but I liked it. I started to move myself up and down the bed, letting the crotch rope rub against the space between my legs, and as the throbbing grew and the warmth increased I lost myself in a fantasy of kidnapping and armed gunmen watching me….
The sound of the front door opening stopped my mood, and I lay still as I listened to the sound of shouting and raised voices downstairs. After a while, the door opened and I heard my dad say “Jackie?” before the door closed. I few seconds later I heard him say “My god” and the muffled sounds of my mother trying to shout out, then him say “All right, I’ll do it.”
“Wise decision,” I heard our captor saying as the sound of footsteps receded and the front door closing. I had no idea if the sun had gone down, with the fuzzy wool covering my eyes, but the silence was deafening. I started to move myself around again, allowing the warmth and the throbbing to start growing again, and losing myself in the feeling of helpless ecstasy as the feeling grew and grew until I thought I was going to explode.
Then I did, and I felt the sweat on my body for the first time as I jerked and then relaxed, my breathing heavy through the cotton and nylon.
I know, I know, it sounds awful, but I had never felt so free, so liberated as I did when I could not do anything to get free.
It was some hours later when I was able to see as two policemen removed my blindfold and I saw my mother standing there, rubbing her wrists as the scarf lay around her mouth. I groaned as the cloth was eased out of my own mouth and they started to untie the ropes.
“Jackie, are you all right,” my mum said when I was able to stand up and stumble over to her. I nodded as she held me close to her, hoping in the dim light she did not notice the damp spot I could feel where the rope had been between my legs…
Would I go through something like that again? No – and yes. No, if there is a gun against the head of me or any member of my family. If a boyfriend or someone else did it to me as a game – that might be another matter.
I like imagining I’m Nancy Drew.