Moral Freedom

Those who have read the story “Independence Day” may have realised that only half the story is there.  On a recent visit to that exclusive establishment, the Rope and Gag, I was fortunate enough to meet with the two gentlemen concerned and obtain the story of what happened next.  I hope this proves entertaining and edifying – I give the tale exactly as it was told to me.

Oh yeah – the three girls.  That was just a warm up for the main event of the evening, I’m afraid – they were students, but the woman who lived next door was loaded, and we wanted that money.  Had we known what else Jack and I would find out that night – oh boy….

What they didn’t know was that they lived next door to Myra Brownstone, the widow of Sir James Brownstone and the leading light of Moral Rights First, the do-gooder group that want to ban all the fun in life.  We’d been watching the place for some time, and knew that night she and her precious daughters, Cassandra and Delilah, would be at a MRF meeting until eleven.  So we thought, go into the house next door, wait there for them to get back, and then raid the place.  That’s why we had to find things to tie those three girls up with – we only brought enough supplies for the first target.

Anyway, it’s eleven before we hear the car some back, so we thought “give them a couple of minutes, let them take their coats off, make a cup of coffee, then we’ll get started.”  We listened as they entered the house, then made our way to the front door and knocked, nice and politely.

The door was opened by Delilah, the older daughter.  She stood there, framed in the light from the hallway, and asked “Yes?” before we grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back into the house.  I clamped my hand over her mouth and held her while Jack cut the phone wires, then we pushed her into the front room where her mother was sat.

Brownstone was wearing a tweed skirt, brown jumper with a string of pearls around her neck and brown suede boots, and she stood up and screamed as we came in with her precious Delilah.  She was wearing a dark blue silk blouse and a black leather skirt, as well as knee length fabric boots.

“Shut up and do as you’re told,” I shouted as Jack dumped the bag we had brought with us on the floor and opened it to reveal a shitload of rope and other things we thought we might need.  “Where’s Cassandra?”

Brownstone pointed upstairs, so I grabbed some rope and told Jack to take care of the older daughter.  As I ran up, I heard him telling Delilah to sit in a chair, and ordering Brownstone to come over and join him, and fro “both of them to shut the fuck up or he’ll shut them up.”

At the top of the stairs, I saw a light on under a door, so I burst in and Cassandra spun round in the chair she was sat in.  She had been looking at something on the web, and the shocked look on her face told me she had been surprised.

“Whh… who are you?”  She asked.

“Never mind that – what were you looking at?” I asked as I came over.  The thing was, it was the last place I’d expect a Brownstone to look.

She was looking at one of the storybook sites – but this was dedicated to tales of women being tied up by robbers.  I scrolled down and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“Are you a robber?” the girl asked, and I jus nodded as I looked at some of the things that were there.

“Good.”

I looked at her.  She had obviously changed since coming in, and was wearing a set of white flannelette pyjamas.

“Good?”

“Yes – I always wondered what it would be like to be bound and gagged by a robber.  I’ve tied myself up before now, but this is different.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  “Does your mother know about this?” I asked.

Cassandra shook her head.  “No – so, mister robber, are you going to tie me up?”  As she said this, she held her hands in front of her, wrists together.

I took some rope, quickly tied her wrists together leaving some length after tying the knot off, then told her to go and lie on her bed.  As she did so, we could both hear screams and sobbing from downstairs.

“Good,” Cassandra said as I used the lengths to secure her wrists to the headboard,” those bitches deserve – oh, that’s tight!”

“Not too tight, I trust,” I said.

“No, thank you.  So, will you tie me up more?”

I swear, she actually squealed with delight as I took her ankles and tied them together, and then secured them to the foot of the bed, and moaned as I tied her legs together.  It was the strangest victim I’ve ever tied up.

“Please, gag me now,” she said, so I took a pair of panties out of her drawer and stuffed them into her mouth, before placing another pair in my pocket for her sister.  She started moving and writhing wound, moaning softly as I used some duct tape that was under her bed to keep the panties in place, then left the room.

I made my way down the stairs, shaking my head, but when I entered the front room again I saw that Jack had been busy with Brownstone’s help.

She was kneeling in front of her daughter, who was sat in a high backed chair.  It was obvious to me that her wrists had been pulled behind the back of the chair – a fact I confirmed when I walked round and saw that her wrists were crossed and securely tied, with the rope tied to the back of the chair.

Jack nodded as he watched Brownstone tie her own daughter’s ankles together with rope, and secure them to the leg of the chair.  As she stood up, I took another length of rope from the bag and made sure Brownstone’s wrists were also bound behind her back, so that she couldn’t cause any more problems that way,

“Where’s my daughter?” she said in the plumy accent so well known no the television.

“She’s having a lie down – I think she’s actually quite enjoying it.” I said.  Well, I was telling the truth, wasn’t I?  Jack looked at me as he wrapped rope around Delilah’s chest, securing her to the chair, and then around her lap.

“So, do you have the same interests as your sister?” I asked as Delilah tried to move around in the chair.

“No way – that little freak?”  She said.

“Delilah, please?” Brownstone called out as Jack took a longer length of rope and began to bind her arms to her side, above and below her chest.

“Oh come on, Mum, she’s not little miss perfect, is she?  Was she on her computer again?”

I nodded.  “She asked me to give you a present.”

“What?”

“This,” I said holding the pair of panties in my hand.  Delilah shook her head and clamped her mouth shut, but a little gentle pressure on her nipple, which thanks to the rope was slightly more prominent than usual, persuaded her to open wide and I stuffed them in.

I saw a large Hermes scarf on a chair, so I picked it up, rolled it into a band and tied a knot in the middle.  Standing behind Delilah, I pushed the knot into her mouth and secured the ends behind her head.

“Now, Mrs Brownstone,” I said as I checked the knots, “Let’s open your safe and get your money, shall we?”

Downstairs was easy – it was in the same room, after all – but the tour of the room upstairs was interesting.

“Cassandra?” she said as the three of us came back into her younger daughter’s room.  She was lying on the bed, a happy expression in her eyes and a slight damp patch on her nightwear, but Brownstone was most shocked by the material on her daughter’s computer screen.  She glared at her daughter, who lay there with her eyes closed, as we left the room.

Delilah’s room, however, was even more revealing.  As we searched the cupboards and drawers for jewellery, we uncovered a very interesting collection of magazines.  Not the sort you find in W H Smiths either – these were for a very special market.  One involving, shall we say, more than one woman and leather?

Brownstone’s face was a picture to behold as we laid the collection out on her daughter’s bed before taking her jewellery.  “Delilah – why?” she whispered as we made our way to her room.

Once there, we sat her down on the bed as we searched for her valuables.  She just sat there shaking her head as the muffled screams of Delilah came from down the stairs.

“I don’t know why she’s screaming for help – the girls next door are already secured,” I said as we filled our bag with her goodies.  “So, Brownstone, is there anything you want to tell us before you find it.”

“I tried to protect them,” she said, “I really did.  I just didn’t want them to know the pain I felt when I found out about…..”

Her late husband had, shall we say, a bit of a reputation, and her fallen face told me that much of the reputation was possibly deserved.  I actually started to feel a little sorry for her.

“Listen, Brownstone, people are different,” I said.  “Allow them their differences and don’t try to dictate to them what they should and should not do.  Do you want to be with your daughters?”

She nodded, so Jack and I took her by the arms and led her back down to the front room.  Delilah was still in the chair, her blouse slightly open from her struggles, but when she saw us place some of her magazines on the table she just looked at her mother.

We helped the older woman to lie down on the couch, and as Jack went to tie her ankles together I made my way back to Cassandra’s room.

“Your mother wants you to be with her – is that all right?” I said as she looked up and me, and when she nodded I untied the ropes from her bed and picked her up.

Carrying her into the room, she saw Delilah sitting, head bowed, and her mother lying on her side with her ankles and legs tied.  “I’m sorry, both of you, I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you,” she kept saying as I sat Cassandra on the floor, and tied the ends of her binds together so that her wrists and legs were connected.

Taking the duct tape that I had brought down with me, I gagged the older Brownstone woman and Jack and I left.  As we turned the lights off. I saw the three of them looking at each other.

So yeah, a very unusual evening.  You don’t here much from Brownstone and the MRF these days – probably just as well.  Hate to be called hypocrites, wouldn’t they?

I’m having a pint – what’s yours?