Design Wars

Fashion news – and the London fashion scene is eagerly awaiting the latest collection from the Diasam design house, which has become one of the most popular and well respected design houses over the last few years.

Led by the team of Diana and Samantha Ball, Diasam has been praised for the innovative and pioneering use of material and design to meet the modern needs.

The film reel showed the two women who had set up the fashion house. Diana Ball had long flowing strawberry blonde hair, which fell over the shoulders of her powder blue trouser suit, while her sister Samantha wore a green mini dress with a thick black belt and matching tight boots that reached her knees.

From her seat in the stalls, Bunty James watched the pair as they were filmed at the last Paris Fashion week. “Not this year,” she muttered to herself, “this year I may have the drop on the famous Diasam house.”

The secret of their success has been put down to brilliant innovation and hard work, but journalists have been unable to get them to explain their incredible rise to prominence over the last three years, after finding very little interest in their previous work. One thing is for certain, however, Diasam are at the forefront of London fashion.

Football...

Bunty let her mind wander at this point. Diasam had indeed appeared to have exploded out of obscurity three years ago – and those she met at fashion shows had their own theories as to how they had managed it.

The most persistent rumour was that somehow they had managed to get all their winning designs by less than honest means. A number of people Bunty had known from her college days, people who had shown real promise at student shows, had achieved nothing – but when she had asked them what had happened, they just mumbled something about losing their mojo, or not being able to come up with anything as original.

That was the main reason Bunty had not produced a show until this year – she had gone into business with two others, Jemima and Hamble, and they had worked in secret for years, perfecting their designs, following the trends and identifying the gaps, and in a few short weeks time, she knew that her house would take the top place.

She settled back to watch the rest of the show, relishing the rare afternoon off while Jem and Ham dealt with the last minute paperwork.

Stepping out into the spring evening, Bunty rubbed her bare forearms and walked down the street, the heels of her purple suede boots clicking on the stone pavement. She was wearing one of her own designs, a high collared purple mini dress that zipped up the front, and opened just to the top of her breasts, and she could see the admiring glances she was getting from the men and the women – for different reasons.

The walk to the design studio was a short one, and she was soon entering the front door of the warehouse, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone floor as she approached the door that led to the studio. The room was in silence, which made Bunty pause for a moment as she put her hand on the door handle.

“Samantha? Hamble? Are you here,” she said as she walked in, and then stood in a state of shock, staring at the papers scattered over the floor. She looked round, and then called our “SAM? HAM?”

There was the sound of someone moving in the back office, so she stepped gingerly over the files on the floor and opened the door. “Oh my God,” she whispered as she saw who was in the office, and then ran in, kneeling next to the two women as she desperately tried to untie the knot holding the folded black silk square over the blonde’s mouth.

Both women were naked, and were sitting back to back on the floor, their mascara running down the cheeks of their faces and over the silk bands keeping them silent. As Bunty untied the scarf, she was horrified to see a silk stocking tied around the woman’s head, holding a pair of panties in her mouth.

“Hold on,” she said as she went to the main studio and found a pair of scissors, running back in and very gently cutting the tight silk band away, then easing the panties from her mouth. “Oh god oh god oh god...” she mumbled as Bunty removed the gag from the brunette sitting behind her.

“What happened, Jemima,” Bunty said as she looked at the two women, their bodies held together with an intricacy of rope that looked like a net as it held them back to back. Their legs were tied at the ankles, knees and thighs, and Bunty could not help but notice the ropes going between the legs of her two partners.

“It.... IT was horrible,” the blonde said between gulps of air. “I... I...”

“Don’t ask us just now,” Hamble said as she looked over her shoulder, “just untie us please.”

“But I need to call the police, find out what...”

“NO!!!!!”

The shout from both women shocked Bunty, as Jemima said “Please, Bunty – no police. Untie us, and we’ll tell you what happened.”

Bunty hesitated for a moment, and then said “all right – but what have they taken?”

“Everything,” Hamble sobbed as Bunty started to tackle the knots, “Everything...”

“They came in just after you left,” Jemima said as she sat with Hamble and Bunty in Luigi’s Espresso Bar, her hands around a cup of coffee. Unlike Bunty, both of the other women were wearing jumpers and jeans, which they had found in the trashed studio, and flat shoes.

“There were two of them – female, wearing tight black sweaters, leggings and high boots. They had leather gloves on their hands, and black stockings pulled down over their heads.”

Bunty looked at Hamble, who nodded as she said “We were just finishing the designs and getting the material together for the first dress when they burst in – one of them had a sawn off shotgun, and shouted at us to get on the floor with our hands behind our heads. Well, we both did so, and then the other one grabbed two scarves and gagged us with one each.

“Then they made Jemima...” She started sobbing as Bunty took her hand.

“They made me strip Ham to her panties,” Jemima continued, “and use some more scarves to bind her arms behind her back, and then her ankles and legs. They then did the same to me, and they forced us to kiss each other. They seemed to take some sort of pleasure out of it, and I hoped that was all they were going to do.”

The way Jemima talked made Bunty feel that was not all that happened. “What else did they do,” she said quietly.

Jemima drank from her cup, and then said. “They took more scarves, and tied them around the base of our breasts – really tightly. They then took one of the rulers from the drawing table and...” She visibly winced, and Bunty did not need to hear any more.”

“They also groped us, made us groan as they seemed to take delight in our distress and the way we reacted,” Hamble said quietly. “And then they knelt behind us, reached between our legs, and...”

Bunty looked at them, and said “oh lord – I should have stayed this afternoon, maybe I could have done something...”

“Against women with shotguns? Count your blessings you weren’t there.” Jemima shook, and then said “Then they took everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything – the designs, samples, even the materials. We had to watch them carry it out of the studio, and trash everything else. Then they tied us the way you found us, and told us not to go to the police.”

“You have got to be joking, we need to...”

“They know where we live,” Hamble said quietly, “they said if we went to the police, they would come to our house, and make me watch as they ravished Callie.” Callie was her younger sister, a seventeen year old with long brown hair.

“They told me they would force me to watch as they raped my mother, and then me, and then killed my father.”

Bunty looked at them both, and then said “Is that how they kept everyone else from going to the police?”

“We don’t know who they...”

“I know – it’s the same couple who threatened everyone else isn’t it? Well, their threats are no good on me – I’m going to the police.”

“For the love of God, Bunty,” Jemima said as she grabbed the young girl’s hand, “Don’t do this. Please, just let it go.”

“They took everything – all my life’s work, everything I had was invested in that collection. I’m not like you – I have nothing else.”

“We’ll work something out,” Hamble said, “but please – sleep on it. I’ll get some cleaners in to sort the studio out – perhaps we can come up with something for next season?”

Bunty looked again at the two girls, and then sat down. “All right – but I’m not done with this,” she said as she sipped her coffee, “not by a long chalk.”

“Have you seen this?”

Bunty walked into the studio and threw the fashion supplement of the Sunday Times down in front of Jemima and Hamble, who were sitting at a table, looking at some paperwork. The two women looked at the large photo Bunty had directed them to, with a look of fear on their faces.

“Samantha and Diana Ball in their latest design,” was the caption under the photo, which showed the two women sitting back to back on an antique lover’s seat. Diana was on the left, and wore a white lace mini dress, the brocade pattern clearly visible on the long flowing sleeves and skirt. Her legs were encased in a tight pair of white leather boots that came just over her knees, buckled on the outside.

Diana was on the other side, in a cream short sleeved mini dress with a brown belt around her waist, her long flowing brown hair falling over her shoulders as she stared at the camera. Her boots were also white and skin tight, coming up to just below her knees.

“That’s my design,” Bunty cried out angrily, “and they’re trumpeting it as part of their new collection! I’m telling you, they’re the ones who did those things to you, and they need to be reported to the police!!”

“But what proof have you got, Bunty,” Jemima said as she stood up and walked round the table. “They took everything – notebooks, design notes, everything. It’s your word against theirs – and you know what those two women said they would do.”

Bunty looked at her partner as she walked to the window and looked out. She was wearing a long chocolate brown jumper, with a checked skirt and knee length front laced brown boots. A brown girdle was fastened around her waist.

“Jem’s right,” Hamble said as she stood up. She was in a grey sleeveless dress, that buttoned up the front, over a silver silk sweater, and she wore a pair of black knee length boots. Their clothes had been picked to hide the physical scars from two months ago, but the emotional scars were obviously still raw.

“Bunty, for both our sakes, and for the sake of all the others, drop it,” Jemima said as she turned round. “We can make good some of the money you lost, and we’re getting bespoke design requests. Things are picking up, and...”

“And yet they get away with this?” Bunty turned round, her hands in her short cut red hair, and then said “No – I need to get the evidence, and I will. You two need to stay out of this, however.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Bunty said as she looked at both of them, “If they did this to you, then better they think you had nothing to do with it. I’ll be in touch.” She turned and walked out of the door, leaving the other two looking at each other.

Sitting in the coffee shop on Regent Street, Bunty slowly stirred the spoon in her cup, watching the beautiful young things as they walked past. It was a warm August day, and she was wearing a dress of her own design – a light grey fabric with a bluebell and cornflower pattern printed on it. The skirt and bottom half of the sleeves were half pleated, as the v-neck was lying under a large pendant. A pair of knee length white go-go boots completed her outfit.

“Miss James?”

Bunty looked up to see a tall dark haired woman standing in front of her, holding her hands together in front of her. She wore a pop art mini dress, which barely covered her bottom, and knee length laced leather boots. Her hair was pulled up and held by a purple scarf in a pigtail that fell down the back of her head.

“That’s me,” Bunty said with a smile, “I take it you’re Carol?”

The dark haired woman sat down, and said “I must confess, I was surprised to get the letter from you. I have no idea what you think I can do for you.”

“More than you might think,” Bunty said as she called the waitress over, and Carol ordered a coffee. “You work for the Balls, don’t you?”

Carol seemed to stare into space, before she said “Samantha and Diana are great employers, and...”

“But you used to work for Jenny Hart, before she was forced to close down.” Bunty took a sip of her own coffee, and said “I saw Jenny last week. She’s fine, if still a little upset over what happened.”

Carol blanched, and then said “She swore she would never reveal what happened between us that day.”

“She didn’t,” Bunty said as she smiled sweetly, “You just did. Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything – the same thing happened to my business partners, and I’m not about to drag them into the light of the likes of the News of the World.”

“Look,” Carol said as she leaned forward, “if you know what happened, then you know there’s nothing I can do to help you. My advice is to keep working, and hope they don’t notice you again.”

“Can’t do that,” Bunty said as she shook her head, “they need to pay for what they did – not just to you and Jenny, or to my business partners, but to all the others. Carol, please – will you help me?”

Carol looked at the people walking past, before saying “What do you want?”

“All I want is to know when the two she bitches are out of their studio – and for you to let me in. After that, you don’t need to know anything else.” She passed Carol a piece of paper. “That’s my home phone number – I’ll be waiting for your call.” Leaving some pound notes on the table, she stood up and left the cafe, Carol still sitting as she walked down the street.

“All right, all right, I’m coming, I’m coming...”

Bunty wrapped the towel round her head and fastened the cord round her dressing gown as the white Bakelite set rang, then picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“They’ll be out of the studio all tomorrow afternoon from 1. Come to the back entrance – but you’ll need to make it look as if you over powered me, or they will know it was me who let you in.”

“Overpower you? What do you mean?”

“I’ll show you – be at the rear entrance at one fifteen tomorrow. Fire escape at the back, second floor.” The click on the line was enough for Bunty to know she had what she needed – a window of opportunity.

At one the next day, Bunty was standing in a doorway across the road from the Samdia studios, watching as the grey Rolls Royce pulled up outside the main entrance. She watched as the Ball sisters walked out and got into the back of the car, throwing the butt of her cigarette down and crushing it under the sole foe hr black leather boot as they drove off.

She had chosen her clothes that day to blend in with the other office staff who were walking round the new business park – a black sweater with a silver belt around her waist, a blue mini skirt, and of course the knee length leather boots. As the other secretaries started to come out of the buildings for their lunch break, she stepped out and mingled with them, before slipping round the building and making her way up the fire escape.

The door marked “SAMDIA HOUSE – KEEP CLEAR” told her where to knock gently as she looked nervously round, waiting as the door opened and carol ushered her in. The young woman was wearing a white sleeveless blouse with a large collar, a knee length skirt and three inch stiletto heels.

“In here,” she said as she led Bunty into an office, and she noticed the silk scarves that were arranged on the table. “It needs to look as if I slipped out for a ciggie, and someone overpowered me before tying me to this chair.”

She rested her arms on the wooden supports, and crossed her legs, as she said “And be quick – you need as much time as you can get to find what you want.”

“Well, if it’s the only way,” Bunty said as she selected two long chiffon scarves, green with a brown floral print on them, and used one to tie each of her wrists to the chair arms.

“Not too uncomfortable,” she said as she then selected a long black rectangle, made of crimpolene, and used it to tie Carol’s ankles tightly together, before securing them to the leg of the chair.

“I’ve had worse,” Carol said with genuine honesty, and Bunty could see the look in her eyes. “Now secure my legs together below my knees – use that green scarf – before you gag me.”

Bunty secured the young woman’s legs together, and then said “Gag you?”

“You need to keep me quiet – take that purple and blue scarf, fold it into a pad, then put it against my mouth, before you use one of the stockings to hold it there.”

“But that’s what they did to my...”

“I know – it sends a message. Just do it.”

Bunty carried out the request, stretching the stocking as Carol opened her mouth slightly to allow the folded scarf to sit between her lips.

“Nwwggg,” she mumbled as she watched Bunty open the office door, look each way down the corridor, and walk out, closing the door behind her. Carol listened to the receding footsteps, and then relaxed, twisting round in the chair as she began to enjoy her situation.

The studio was deathly quiet as Bunty walked down the corridor, opening doors and looking in at design tables, sewing rooms and fitting rooms. She grimaced when she saw a row of her designs hanging on a rack, ready for transport to a show, but held her temper in check – she needed to find her notes.

Finally she found what she was looking for – the office. She walked in and closed the door, opening and closing filing cabinets as she did so. Much of what she found was the sort of paperwork you would see in studios – invoices, orders and so on – but then she found a file marked “James Designs.”

“Bingo,” she said to herself as she looked through the papers, recognising her own handwriting on some of the pages, with additional notes either signed S or D. At the front of the manila folder she saw written “Full collection, room 15, second shelf.”

“So that’s where they’re keeping everything,” she said as she looked at the glass door of the office she was in, the number 10 visible. Closing the filing cabinet, she stepped out and looked up and down the corridor, and then made her way to the room with 15 painted on the door.

Stepping inside, she found herself in a large store room, and sure enough on one side on the second shelf was a box marked James Designs. Putting the folder down, she lifted the box off and put it on a table, lifting the lid and looking inside.

There they were, the notebooks, the files – and an envelope with “Bunty James” sitting on top of everything. Curious, Bunty lifted the envelope out, opened it and took out the sheet of neatly folded paper. She opened it, and read what was written on it.

“Boo.”

The sweet smelling cloth that was clamped over her hand took Bunty completely by surprise, and she opened her mouth to scream, only to inhale the fumes. As her eyes closed, she heard a soft voice saying “Nice of you to drop in...”

As Bunty started to wake up, her head was thumping, and her mouth felt as if she had been drinking Babycham all night.

“Whthppnd,” she heard someone mumble, as if they were being prevented from talking. It took a few minutes for her to realise it was her own voice she had heard, and it was her who had her mouth muffled.

As she slowly opened her eyes, she realised that her arms were pinned behind her back, and she was unable to move them. It took a few minutes for her to awaken enough to feel the rough cords holding her wrists together, and a few more to realise the squeaking she was hearing wasn’t a mouse, but her own boots as they rubbed together under the ropes around her ankles.

As she managed to focus, she saw she was in the main office again, seated in a swivel chair, and two women were looking at her – Samantha and Diana Ball.

“So this is Bunty James, the person who so generously donated to our last show,” Samantha said as she raised Bunty’s head and looked into her eyes. “I thought she would be prettier. What do you think of your designs on me , Bunty?”

Bunty groaned, but she had to admit – Samantha Ball did look wonderful in her dress. IT consisted of a sleeveless top half and a high waisted miniskirt, linked by a series of metal loops around her bare midriff. The pattern was a swirl of pink, blue and purple, and Samantha had a beaded belt tied loosely around her waist. On her legs were the over the knee white leather boots from the photo shoot.

“Ntbdbdd bthrrmdsngs,” Bunty mumbled as she felt the silk on her tongue.

“No, they are our designs – now,” Diana Ball said with a smirk. She was wearing a sleeveless yellow wrap round mini dress with a red ruffed trim down the front and around the hem of the skirt, and tight red leather boots. One of which she lifted and put on Bunty’s lap, the heel sinking between her legs as she said “Would you like to know what we do with thieves?”

“Nhrnrmngctffs, thn,” Bunty said as she stared back at both of them.

“Well, she has spirit, I grant you that,” Samantha said as she reached over and yanked the knotted scarf from her mouth, the saliva soaked knot sitting on her jumper. “Oh dear,” she said with a smirk, “your nice cashmere jumper has stained. We should wash it for her.”

“You little bitches,” Bunty growled, “I know you stole my designs....”

“Stole is such an emotive word – we took them and gave them life,” Diana said as she sat opposite the bound woman, “they are actually exquisite designs. Pity your very small reputation is about to be totally ruined.”

“What do you mean,” Bunty said. Samantha said nothing, instead picking up a series of photographs and holding them in front of Bunty, as they depicted her binding Carol to the chair and gagging her.

“Hidden camera, so useful,” Samantha said as she put them down.

“I don’t care – I’ll tell the police we did that to throw suspicion off...”

“Off my lover,” Diana said as she looked at Bunty, smiling as the young girl realised she had been set up.

“So,” Samantha said as she stood up, and walked over to Bunty, removing the scarf from around her neck, “the question is, what are you going to do to prevent those photographs becoming public?” She reached down, and to Bunty’s surprise Samantha placed her lips against hers, kissing Bunty as she moved her jumper up over her chest, and thn stepping back as she pulled it over her head and left it hand down over her arms.

“Wha... What do you think you’re doing,” Bunty spluttered as Diana untied her hands, pulled her jumper down her arms, and then held them behind her back as Samantha gently stroked a cream chiffon scarf up Bunty’s chest.

“It is so rarely we get to really play with the women we visit – the stockings do tend to get in the way – but you came to us, young Bunty James, so we can do whatever we like.” As she said this, she passed the scarf to Diana, who crossed her wrist behind her back and started to secure them with the scarf. Bunty tried to force her wrist apart, but the brunette was too strong – and the fact Samantha was kneeling in front of her, massaging her shoulders as she was kissed again was a distraction.

“Please,” Bunty said as she felt the touch of chiffon around her arms, and her elbows were pulled back and forced together, “Don’t...”

“You have no say in the matter,” Samantha said as she looked at the way Bunty’s chest was forced out, “No say at all.” Her hand gently stroked over Bunty’s chest, and the young redhead had to suppress a shudder as she did so.

“I... I’m not...”

“Of course you’re not,” Diana said as she picked up a large silk square, and wrapped it around her chest as Samantha slid the straps of Bunty’s bra off her shoulders, the cups of her bra falling off and under her chest and the silk band, “nobody ever really is until they find out they are.”

“Is... Is this what you did to my partners?”

“The dolls? It’s an open secret they’re lovers, Bunty – don’t tell me you never noticed?”

Bunty’s reply was replaced by a gasp as a second band encircled her arms and body above her chest, and then Samantha tied a small black scarf between her breasts, leaving them forced out and framed in silk.

“What’s happening to me,” Bunty whispered, “what are you... OH GOD....” her cry was the result of the touch of Samantha’s lips on her nipples, her tongue playing with her firm tips as she caressed her sides with her hands.

She had never felt anything like this before, and she closed her eyes, unsure whether to scream or cry out. Instead she began to pant slowly as Samantha kissed and sucked on her chest, as Diana helped her to kneel on the floor.

“Ahhhh oh god that feels good,” Bunty was surprised to hear herself say, her voice deeper than usual, and even sounding sexier. Diana reached round and unfastened her skirt, pulling it down as she raised her legs to allow the sister to remove it, and then heard the zip of her boots as they were removed.

“You were saying,” Samantha whispered as she looked at Bunty, her eyes bright as her hand moved between the young girl’s legs and stroked up her panties.

“I.... I... I....”

“Sit down for me.”

Bunty found herself moving her legs as Diana helped her, and then bending them, wanting rather than resisting as Diana secured her ankles to her thighs with two more scarves, and then secured her leg at each knee, the scarf going above and below as well as behind on both legs.

“You were saying,” Samantha whispered as she stroked between the captive’s legs again.

“Gag me,” Bunty heard herself say, opening her mouth as Diana pushed the cloth in and then tied the folded black band between her lips, Bunty closing her mouth over the silk packing and moaning as Samantha pulled her panties down, her lips moving between her legs...

“They settled out of court?”

“Kind of,” Bunty said as she sat with Jemima and Hamble. “They’re going to buy us out – in return for keeping our silence.”

“But you were determined to bring them to... oh my.” Jemima’s eyes widened as she saw the size of the cheque Bunty placed on the table.

“So what will you be doing,” Hamble said as Bunty picked up her coat and headed for the door.

“Oh, I’ll get by – I might try my hand at something else. Look, good luck – you deserve it.”

The two women watched as Bunty walked out, the high heels of her thigh high purple boots echoing on the floor. As she left the warehouse, Bunty breathed in deeply, and then walked over to the waiting Rolls.

“Ready to go to work,” Samantha Ball said as she got in.

“Ready,” Bunty said as she placed her silk gloved hand on Samantha’s, and the car moved silently off...

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