Prologue: Just a Quiet Burger
As I neared the state border I turned off the highway
and towards the golden arches of an all night
McDonalds. When I'd planned the route the month before
this had seemed the best place to stop, food bought
from here would still be warm when I parked up to
change the plates.
I parked towards the back of the lot close to one of
the lights. I figured no one would be likely to park
close by, I'd taken a lot of trouble to ensure that she
was tightly gagged and that she was tied in such a way
that she couldn't attract any attention. Still it paid
to go to a little extra trouble and it also reduced the
chances of some passer by spotting my home made tags.
I still felt nervous and unsure, copying a stranger's
tags so that you don't have to cruising a neighborhood
with out of state plates is smart thinking and pays off
when the jobs over and the cops are looking for clues.
Yet I couldn't help feeling that this would be the
night the idiot got his car stolen or his wife was
rushed to hospital and that every cop in the state
would be after that license. I was at most twenty
minutes from the layover when I could switch mine back,
I hoped to stay lucky that long.
I got out and pantomimed looking for my wallet so that
I could hang around near the trunk. Nothing, not a
peep. I have to say that I started to worry, maybe
she'd choked or something. She was a smart girl, a
college student, she must see her situation, bound and
gagged in the trunk of a car being taken who knows
where, her best chance is when we stop. Then, just when
I was about to panic and open the trunk I heard it, a
faint muffled cry, so soft at first I thought it was
imagination. I listened and there it was again full of
desperation and hope, saying just one thing 'Help me.'
Satisfied that she couldn't be heard more than a few
feet away I 'found' my wallet and headed towards the
doors. She was smart all right, she'd waited until she
thought I'd gone before making any noise. A good idea
spoiled only by the tiny amount of noise she could
make. In some ways I was pleased, she was living up
nicely to my expectations.
The McDonalds was almost deserted, and was just about
to switch to cooking to order. My fellow patrons
consisted of a couple of truck drivers and a state
trooper. I have to confess that threw me at first, but
from conversations between him and the staff it
appeared he stopped off here every night after his
shift. I ignored him and carried on. I got them to
refill my coffee flask for 'later' and took a coke and
the quarter pounders they had left as I didn't want to
wait around for them to cook my order. The trooper said
his good-byes and it was with some relief that I saw
him drive away. Once my order was filled I too hit the
road nerves on edge but keeping to a nice legal fifty
as I headed towards the layover.
I ran through all the events of the past few days again
to see if there was anything that could tie me, Richard
Cody successful thirty-something computer journalist,
with Caroline Conway the struggling eighteen year old
psych major currently in my trunk...
I can't exactly say when the idea of taking a sex slave
first came to me. I suppose every man who has ever been
lead on by a woman harbors certain fantasies, any guy
with a female boss, any guy stood up or embarrassed or
humiliated. What I suppose made me different from "any
guy" was that I had been provided with the means, both
financially and practically to carry out those
fantasies and make them real. I could have a woman who
couldn't say no, one over which I would have total
control.
I suppose in reality this started six months ago. At
the time I was dating Samantha Prescott, former model
and an assistant editor at Vogue. I must confess that I
had fallen, she was lovely of course, but she also had
an elegance and charm which completely won me over. I
suppose I read more into the relationship that she did,
certainly I was ready to commit.
I was at that time building a house in New England and
contemplating the Great American Novel. Then out of the
blue she called everything off, the next time I saw her
was in a tabloid escorting some baseball star to the
Grammies. When she finally answered my calls she as
good as told me that I was just a fashion accessory,
that literary men had been a feature of the Fall season
and that now that Spring was here she and her friends
preferred more "physical" escorts.
About a month later one of my editors called and
suggested that I did a blab piece on computer porn. The
newspapers and television were in a feeding frenzy
about girlie pics on bulletin boards and S&M on the
internet. Apparently a company in San Diego was
marketing an S&M Multimedia CD-ROM, and had just won a
court battle to allow its distribution.
With some reluctance I'd agreed, chiefly because the
Samantha thing had caused me to fall behind with my
column. A few days later the CD arrived. By then I'd
done the few thousand words of condemnation required by
my middle class publisher but I thought I'd try it
anyway just to get some specific quotes.
In the game you play "Dak Forest" a porno film actor.
When the costar of his next flick "Nympho Nurses From
Hell" is kidnapped by a Colombian drug cartel, Dak has
only three days to rescue her and save the movie. The
script was poor, the video clips included painful
acting and in the course of the game just about every
female character ends up bound and gagged either naked
or in some kinky outfit.
Part way through the game a character is introduced
called Samantha Pressman, she is the editor of a
fashion magazine who is kidnapped by the cartel and
turned into the nymphomaniac sex slave Kitty, who acts
as Dak's sidekick from then on. To anyone who knew her
the similarities between this character and Sam
Prescott where overwhelming, the actress even looked a
lot like her. I found myself playing the same section
again and again. Sam kneels before Dak and begs him to
whip her, spank her, humiliate her. Dak of course
refuses, but that and some of Sam's heavier scenes kept
me hooked on the CD weeks after my article was printed.
I started to ask myself if it was really that difficult
to take a woman and make her your sex slave. I had a
secluded house with a large basement that I'd
originally designed as a computer lab. I had few
friends who lived nearby so impromptu visits were
unlikely. In addition I had the money and the time to
make it work. Suddenly it became clear what I should
do. I couldn't take Sam of course, the history of our
relationship was too well known. For a wild second I
even considered taking 'Kitty' and driving her back
from California. In the end I realized that I needed a
woman with whom I had no contact, a complete stranger
preferably from some distance away so that the police
investigation wouldn't get too close to home. I looked
at a map and selected a college town about three
hundred miles from my home. Colleges mean young female
students a good starting point for the selection of a
slave...
By now I'd reached the turnoff I'd been waiting for.
This lead down a tree lined lane into a wooded hollow.
I had come across the place by accident whilst scouting
out the area a few months before and could hardly
believe that I'd found somewhere so perfect. I'd spent
a couple of nights here to assure myself that this
wasn't the local lovers lane, or the favorite route of
poachers. In the end however I had to accept that it
was what it appeared to be, a rough dirt road leading
to a small wood, and that the place was deserted at
night.
I drove carefully into the hollow, this wasn't the
night to slide into a ditch or have a flat. I assured
myself that we were far enough from the road and that
no one was watching. Finally I got out, went to the
back of the car and opened the trunk. Two large,
frightened blue eyes stared back at me over the mass of
Ace bandage that covered her lower face. The bandage
was tight and her cheeks bulged out over it, in places
there was a flash of silver where the bandage failed to
cover the duct tape underneath. She made a mewing sound
and started to struggle, I carefully checked her bonds.
In a sense we were both acting out our roles, she as
victim, I as kidnapper, we both knew she couldn't get
free. She was dressed in the same outfit she had worn
that morning to her Saturday job, a fairly expensive
blue blazer and skirt, a white blouse, heels and
stockings. I had pulled her long blond hair back into a
kind of ponytail and secured it with some rubber bands,
it cascaded onto her back like a horse's mane. I had
considered removing the blazer before tying her but
this power dressing had reminded me of Samantha, so
instead I had added to the ensemble. Her ankles where
cuffed, good solid black leather bondage cuffs bought
from a sex shop in New York, in many ways they matched
her pumps and proved I could "Accessorize".
At the moment they were fastened together with a
padlock and linked by a long leather strap to her
wrists. Smaller straps clinched her legs together just
above and just below the knees effectively immobilizing
them. I had done the same at her elbows but had used
duct tape to secure her wrists and hands. Even her
fingers where covered in a mass so thick it appeared
that she was clutching a bowling ball. As well as
securing her hands the mass also stopped another
leather strap from biting into her wrists and it was
this strap that was also secured to her ankles.
After checking everything was secure I removed the
strap that formed the hogtie. She groaned with relief
and started to straighten her legs. I grabbed her by
the arms and pulled her clear, then slung her over my
shoulder and carried her round to the open passenger
door and placed her inside. Closing the door I entered
via the drivers door. For a second we sat looking at
each other, then she started to struggle and I went
back to the job in hand.
"Stop that!" She turned and looked at me, her eyes
framing a silent question.
"No I'm not going to kill you if you don't force me to.
If I'd wanted to kill or rape you I could have done it
back in that alley and saved myself a lot of trouble.
Now stop struggling, you've been alone in the trunk for
the last three hours, if you couldn't get free then
what chance do you have with me here?"
She stopped and sat watching me with a nervous
expression on her face.
"Look, I have a proposal to make, we've got a long way
to go and things are going to get quite unpleasant for
you unless we can come to some arrangement." She
continued to listen, her large accusing eyes watching
me. "You probably need the john and you must be
thirsty. I have a drink for you and some food. For you
to eat it I have to remove the gag, you can scream all
you want out here and no one will hear you, all you'll
do is piss me off, clear?" She looked out of the car
window at the quiet secluded woods.
"Is that clear!" I snapped.
She turned back to me and nodded, her ponytail bobbing
behind her.
"Ok, I want you to promise that IF I remove the gag,
you'll let me replace it again when it's time to go.
You'll be quiet, you'll eat the food then we'll head
off again." She looked at me incredulously and I began
to realize just what expressive eyes she had.
"I suggest you think about this, you weren't able to
stop me gagging you in the first place, and you won't
be able to stop me now, all you'll do is force me to
hurt you. Besides cause me trouble now and we simply
don't stop until we get were we're going, I know which
of us will suffer most." I could see the calculations
in her eyes, here was definitely a bad place for her
with no chance of rescue. I could see her thinking that
the next stop may offer more possibilities and that she
shouldn't blow it now. At length she nodded.
"So let's check that we're clear on this. The gag comes
out, no screaming or carrying on, you eat then you let
me gag you again with no trouble?" Again she nodded so
I told her to bend down whilst I undid the bandage.
Pushing the ponytail away I worked on the knot then I
unwound the bandage and dumped it on the floor. She
started to protest when I started pulling the duct tape
free but at last I removed it and the dense sponge
rubber ball that packed her mouth.
She licked her dry lips, "Water?" she croaked. I put
the straw to her lips and she started to drink
greedily.
Finally she stopped and looked up at me, "Why are you
doing this?" she asked looking at me with those big
expression filled eyes.
"Shut up," I said, "I didn't say you could talk."
"You didn't say I couldn't."
"You'll learn," I said and reached for the sponge ball.
"No!" She said quickly, "Look I'm sorry. I'll be quiet,
promise!"
Without a word I held the first burger to her lips and
she started to eat. There continued a strange silence
until she was finished. I reached back, plucked the toy
bag from behind her seat and started to root around
inside. At length I found what I wanted and pulled out
her collar. Seeing it she started to protest but then
she caught my eye and sat meekly as I locked it around
her neck. Then I pulled out a leather gag, this time
she couldn't stop herself.
"What..."
"It's your gag."
"But I thought..." She nodded towards the sponge ball.
"That design is very effective but the adhesive from
the tape damages the skin. This is a better long term
solution. Now open wide."
"But..."
"Are you breaking your promise?"
"No but..."
"Then open up!"
She sighed resigned to her fate and opened her mouth to
let me put the gag inside, then she bent forward as I
secured the straps. The gag had a wide padded leather
section that covered her lips and a strap that tightly
fastened around her head. I could tell that she'd
worked out that the ball in her mouth was a lot smaller
that the last one. She made a number of muffled sounds
that were much quieter that they should be. I think she
thought that I'd overestimated the gag's effectiveness
and she could exploit that later. I reached into the
bag and got the pump.
At first she didn't recognize what it was and it was
only when the ball in her mouth started to inflate that
she realized the truth. Eyes wide and bulging she
started to protest, her whines becoming steadily more
muffled as the ball inflated. When I was satisfied that
she was gagged as effectively as before I replaced the
pump in the bag and withdrew the padded leather
blindfold that matched the gag. She spotted this and
wanted nothing to do with it she shook her head,
struggled and whined as I strapped it in place.
I pulled back and she sat there shaking. Deprived of
sight she felt even more vulnerable. Her almost covered
face, gag and blindfold scanned the car as if waiting
for something to happen. I left the car and walked
around to the passenger side with the bag.
Opening the door I swung her bound legs out and clipped
a short length of chain between the D rings of her
ankle cuffs. I removed the padlock joining the cuffs
and then the two leather straps leaving her legs free
but hobbled at the ankles. Then I secured another chain
to her collar to act as a leash and pulled her upright.
A little unsteadily she followed me to a tree where I
secured the leash to a low branch.
"I'm going to leave you here while you pee is that
clear?"
She tried to say something.
"The panties?"
She nodded, "No problem." She squealed as my knife cut
them off. I watched her squat against the tree then
returned to the car. In the trunk next to the spare
wheel was my license plate, with some relief I removed
my clever fakes and replaced the legal ones. I watched
while she shivered by the tree. I wasn't concerned,
even if she somehow slipped the leash she couldn't get
far in a wood blindfolded and hobbled. At length I
collected her and returned her to the trunk. I re-
secured her legs and hog-tied them back to her wrists.
She moaned and struggled back to her role as victim.
"Hey sweetheart." Her leather covered face turned
towards me. "I'm not a bad guy I know it can be boring
in here. I have some entertainment for you." With one
quick motion I slipped the vibrator into her pussy and
turned it on low. A strangled moan came from behind the
gag and she started to struggle as I secured her knees
and trapped the buzzing intruder inside her. The moans
and groans continued but the hogtie deprived her of the
movement necessary to remove it, if of course that was
her intention.
Her hips moved as much as they could and muffled moans
came from behind the gag. Once again I tucked the
blankets around her for sound insulation and shut the
trunk. In the eerie silence of the woods I could still
hear her faint moans. Satisfied that the vibrator, with
its long life batteries, would keep her distracted
until we returned home I returned to the drivers seat
and drank my coffee...
Chapter 1: The Selection and Capture of a Slave.
It had been fate that delivered her to me. I discovered
that a small software house was holding a product demo
in the town I'd selected as my hunting ground. A small
startup company made up of young graduates, they where
based near the university. I was preparing another blab
piece on innovation in the computer industry and so had
an excuse to go, it seemed like a good opportunity to
scout around.
I think the company had been surprised when I accepted,
I was the only recognized hack that had bothered to
attend. In any case they were all over me, I got a
private demo and enough disks and promotional material
to supply the whole press corps. They were keen young
men desperate to make a good impression. One even
showed me the local night life and over some beers he
told me of the best student hangouts, information which
I stored away for later.
The next day was to have been the main demo and having
seen the package already I had intended to send my
apologies and use the time to check out prospective
targets. In the end however I elected to turn up for at
least the first half hour. They had hired a couple of
girls from a local modeling agency to look pretty
during the presentation. Neither was exactly what I was
looking for but on a whim I hung around until lunch to
practice my stalking skills.
The girls headed off downtown to a small restaurant
where they met with friends. It was here that I first
saw her, tall, shapely, blond, Caroline. With a decent
makeup job and some reasonable clothes she could have
made a good living on the modeling circuit. As it was
she had a fairly poor dress sense, which reduced her
from stunning to just good looking. I knew then that
this was the one I wanted. Not only could I train her
as my slave I could eventually mold her into the kind
of escort to make the Sam Prescott's of this world seem
ordinary.
After her meal she said her good-byes and left. Once
outside I followed her back to a local department
store, here she worked as a cosmetics saleswoman. She
seemed to be fairly junior, supplying free makeovers to
women brought to the counter by more senior staff. I
went to a rival company's stand and made some excuse
about needing a last minute birthday gift.
The girl was helpful and I managed to keep her
distracted enough that I could watch Caroline across
the floor. She had a certain intrinsic elegance that
shone out despite her dowdy looks. Trade was slow and
from the banter I picked up between the other
saleswomen it became clear that Caroline was a student
working here part time. Realizing I couldn't continue
to hang around without attracting attention I purchased
enough perfume to keep the girl happy then left and
headed off for the rest of the day.
I had bought a late model medium sized domestic sedan
to use during the abduction. My researches had shown
that this was a popular type and color and indeed I saw
a number as I drove around. In the end I selected one
and followed it to a small car park. Here a guy got out
and went into an office building. I noted his plate
then headed back to the store in time for closing. I
followed from a distance as she left work and headed
down a set of back alleys to a place where a small car
was parked. I nearly lost her as she drove away but
fortunately the traffic slowed her until I could catch
up in my car. I followed her to a small apartment
building near the university. I had caught her first
name in the restaurant and from the bell box I saw that
she was Caroline Conway and lived in 23C.
**
The next morning she was working in the store as usual,
during the night I'd formulated a plan. First I hired a
cell phone from a local company that were happy for me
to take it for a few days when I claimed mine was
damaged. This gave me a local number. I had spent most
of the previous evening filling a small notebook with
cryptic notes and I put a woman's name on the cover. I
had noticed that Caroline carried a small black leather
purse with her at all times. I guessed that they may be
available from the store where she worked. Another
quick 'birthday gift' shopping trip and I had its twin
together with a woman's billfold. In the stores toilets
I assembled my decoy.
I placed about $300 in the wallet and dropped it into
the bag, then added some old keys, some change, the
notebook, a pen and some of the perfume I'd purchased
the day before. I figured it would weigh about right
and that she may not immediately realize it wasn't her
own purse. I assumed that she would eat lunch in the
same place and again fate was with me. I sat on the
next table just behind her as she sat and gossiped. I
paid for the salad I bought and while the waitress took
their order I quickly swapped purses, stuck hers under
my coat and left. I explained to the cashier that I was
waiting for a friend who hadn't shown and that I was
off to find out where he was.
Would she hold my table for fifteen minutes until I got
back? A large tip ensured she would. I knew I had
little time, there was a key and heel place down the
block and a hardware store a little beyond that. Out of
sight I removed her apartment and car keys and ensured
they had no ID. I stopped at the heel bar first,
dropped off the car keys and paid for a duplicate set.
With the excuse that my lunch break was almost over and
I had shopping to do I left them with the promise that
the keys would be ready when I returned in five
minutes.
Then I went to the hardware store where I got the
apartment keys done quickly. In their toilets I quickly
went through the rest of the purse. I was relieved to
see that she had no bottles of medication or cards
indicating a serious medical complaint. What she did
have was a large number of unpaid bills, and of course
a motive to disappear. Collecting both sets of keys I
headed back.
In all it had taken me ten minutes before I was back in
the restaurant. The decoy had worked well, and it was
still where I left it. If I couldn't get the purse back
to her she would find the decoy and assume some
mistake. If she dialed the number on the notebook she
would reach the cell phone and I had a plausible story
prepared about my absent minded wife and her talent for
mislaying her purse. I would then arrange a place for
an exchange. I doubted she would be suspicious but I
was still relieved that she and her friends ordered
coffee and were too distracted to notice when I
successfully switched her purse back.
I tailed her back to the store to ensure this wasn't a
college day, then went to her apartment. I rang the
bell first in case there was a room mate or a
boyfriend, then went up and scouted things out. I
discovered that she was a psych major struggling to
meet the demands of the course and of her day job and
that she apparently lived alone. She had awful dress
sense seeming to choose baggy clothes that hid her
figure and colors that didn't suit her.
Although this was puzzling her wardrobe did provide me
with details of her clothes sizes that would let me
order some of the more exotic outfits before I
collected her. The absence of a boyfriend and estranged
letters from the family assured me she wouldn't be
missed for some time. I was almost tempted to wait and
take her then, but I didn't want anyone to place me
near the scene so instead I decided to wait a month and
returned home to prepare...
The dungeon was close to finished. I had managed to do
most of the work myself and the little extras I'd had
to get my contractor to do (like putting water into the
small basement room) were easily explained by my love
of photography. Before collecting my model I went to
New York on a fetish buying spree. Gags, cuffs, whips,
chains, harnesses, toys and a reasonable fetish
wardrobe started to fill the dungeon. I managed to pick
up some reasonable strong secondhand furniture to liven
up the place, the only problem now was collecting
Caroline.
And that wasn't going to be easy. I mapped out her
movements as I knew them. Up at seven, out at eight
thirty, work by nine, lunch twelve to one. The problem
was not what she did but the fact that everyone else
did them at the same time. At least a dozen people left
her apartment building within fifteen minutes of her
every day. I as I looked into it in detail it began to
seem that there was not a moment when I could
reasonably expect to have her alone long enough to get
her and make off unseen.
First her apartment was on the third floor of a small
student tenement, there was frenetic activity all the
time. Though I had keys to the apartment and could
easily ambush her there day or night there was no
method I could use to get her out of the place
unnoticed. I had no doubt that I could take her, but
someone was bound to mention the guy with the "drunken
girlfriend" or the dude with "the big box" when the
police started asking questions. I could wait until the
early hours but then the back door leading to the car
park would be locked so I'd have to take her through
the front doors. I determined that it was never quiet
enough for that to work.
The apartment's car park was above surface and at the
back of the building. Between 7AM and 8PM there was a
back exit open to allow access. Unfortunately it was
clearly visible from the road and worse it was a short
cut to the nearest bar. Therefore an ambush in the car
park wasn't on either.
On TV of course it's all terribly easy, the heroine
leaves her apartment and gets into her car. Suddenly
the menacing bulk of the bad guy looms behind her and a
gloved hand closes over her mouth. In the next scene
she's unconvincingly bound and gagged on her own back
seat as the bad guy telephones the hero to arrange a
meet. Of course the heroine always drives a big
domestic car, if she were wise and had bought a small
compact Japanese model like Caroline she would have
only needed to worry about midget and contortionist
kidnappers.
The only real opening was that she left the store
slightly later than everyone else. I could in theory
jump her in the back alleys leading to her car.
Unfortunately *MOST* of them were well used short cuts
which was probably why she felt safe using them. The
only exception was an alleyway close to the store, here
at that time I could expect to have her alone for
perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes. Unfortunately the
alley was too narrow for a car, it did however lead
into an wider alley linking two blocks.
This wide alley was quiet enough that I could get
perhaps five minutes parked there before I congested
traffic but simply put it was too busy for me to leave
a car there during the kidnapping. For a while I played
with the idea of stashing her in a dumpster while I
went for the car, but even with the best gag in the
world she'd make too much noise for me to leave her the
twenty minutes I needed. I started to wish I knew more
about drugs so that I could knock her out, but I knew
that unless I was very careful I could kill her. What I
needed was a way to overpower her and to make her
invisible for perhaps twenty minutes.
Then fate again stepped in. During another shopping
trip to NYC I made the mistake of taking a short cut
through a particular alley. About half way through I
became aware of someone by my side, before I could
react someone pushed something into my side and it was
all over. A cop told me later that it was a stun gun,
an electrical device that delivers the victim a
debilitating charge. I figure I was out of it for
perhaps ten minutes, which had been enough time for the
guy to make off with my wallet.
The police had got there so fast because a bum sleeping
in the alley had flagged them down. I had to confess
that I hadn't noticed him, and neither it seemed had my
attacker, as the cops caught him at the next block. I
slipped the bum a C note for his help before heading
off to my destination. I was more careful from then but
it got me to thinking.
**
Over the next few weeks I practiced my capture
technique using an inflatable doll part filled with
sand. Counting in my head, I choreographed, handcuffing
the wrists, gagging the mouth, securing the legs. When
I could bind my unresisting vinyl victim in under three
minutes I returned to the Big Apple and hired a woman
who advertised as a "Professional Submissive." She made
it clear that she wasn't into "rough stuff" but
apparently rape fantasies were common to both her male
and *FEMALE* customers.
We worked out what she called a "scene." She would
enter her bedroom as a "tired business executive." I as
a passed over rival would jump her, bind and gag her
then "punish" her for getting "My promotion." The plot
was lame but apparently a popular one with her other
customers, she offered several others but all I wanted
was to refine my technique on a real struggling body.
After the first time I made some changes, she was to
make as much noise as possible at all times, she would
get a hundred dollar bonus if she kept me from tying
her for two minutes and I was allowed to tie her as I
wanted.
The first couple of occasions she was up by two hundred
bucks but after that it became easier to subdue her. I
tried out several types of ties and gags looking as
much for the type of movement and sounds the victim
could make as for the degree of immobilization or
silence. Finally I was happy I had found what I wanted
so I packed my equipment and started the long drive
that would end with Caroline.
That Friday I followed her around. I kept fairly clear
of the store as it had security cameras and store cops
but I attended her regular lunch break. Her two model
friends were off to a trade fair in Chicago, bad news
it seemed as she needed somewhere to stay for a few
days. The landlord was apparently evicting her on
Monday and she needed to move that weekend. With a put
upon sigh one of the girls offered a spare key to her
apartment but made it clear this couldn't be a
permanent arrangement. For a second I considered
rethinking my risky plan in favor of taking her there
but I figured with my luck this apartment would be even
worse than the current one.
What was clear though was that I needed to move
quickly, for some reason and despite the fact that I
had intended to kidnap her the next day I felt
compelled to move things forward. Trailing her back to
the store I slipped off down back alleys to the place
where she parked her car. Then I stole it, simple when
you have the keys. I'd already been warned about the
"bad" side of town so that was were I headed. I parked
in a back street and left the car open with the keys
inside before making it to a busier street and flagging
down a cab. I had been away from the car perhaps five
minutes before the cab drove past the back street. By
then the car had gone, destined for the chop shop or
perhaps a new identity like it's mistress.
I was dropped off in the town center and recovered my
car from the car park. Next I drove out to her place.
The block was as quiet as it got as I walked up the
back stairs in my disguise. I was wearing jeans and a
hooded track suit top and had a couple of books under
one arm. As the "instant student" I went into her
apartment unobserved. To my surprise the contents of
the rooms had been packed into a number of largish
boxes. Only a little food and the pillows and bedding
were still out. Good fortune having smiled on me again
I started to move the boxes down the back stairs to my
car.
Several people seemed to be moving at the same time and
it became easy to loose myself coming in and out. I
ensured that I was relatively unobserved loading the
car and hung around in the stairwell to ensure no one
saw me enter her apartment. It took perhaps twenty
minutes to do the whole thing. I searched afterwards to
ensure that nothing valuable was left behind but
deliberately left the place untidy. As a final gesture
I left the final notice on the table together with
enough cash to cover the back rent. I reasoned the
super would find it on Monday and assume she'd moved
out. I'd put the boxes on the back seat of the car but
I put the pillows and comforters in the trunk as added
sound insulation.
Driving to a secluded spot I got ready for the final
assault. Under the track suit top I put on a harness to
which were clipped the items I would need quickly.
Looking back I wonder why I did this, my "appointment"
with Caroline wasn't for some time and the harness was
bulky. I reasoned it was best to get used to it so I
didn't appear odd when I approached her. I drove back
to the town center with the intention of hiding behind
the dumpsters in the alley until she left work. Taking
a large cardboard box half full of equipment to the
alley I quietly moved one of the dumpsters a little to
allow a six foot gap between them.
I had just unpacked the box when a sob alerted me to
someone's approach. Dumb as it was I peered around the
dumpster rather than hide immediately. It was her! I
couldn't believe it, she was walking down the alley
sobbing quietly over an hour too soon! I panicked,
there were just too many people around at this time for
it to work, the store would be closing in a few minutes
and the alley would fill with her fellow workers. The
cold realization hit me that I'd overplayed my hand,
that after all the planning and expense I'd been just a
little too impatient. I couldn't take her now, but if I
didn't she would discover her car missing and the
things gone from her home. There would be police
reports, questions, in essence Caroline Conway would
become too noticeable to just disappear.
I had failed and beyond that I was mad. Mad with
Samantha for starting this thing in the first place,
mad at myself for my impatience but above all mad at
her, at Caroline, for having the ill manners to be
early the one time it really mattered. Then before I
knew what I was doing I was standing next to her.
"Caroline?" I asked and as she raised her tear-filled
eyes to mine I pressed the stun gun into her side and
pushed the button. She made an "Uhhug" sound as her
contracting diaphragm forced the air from her lungs. A
pained and surprised look spread over her face as she
started to fall. I directed her on to the open sleeping
bag I'd just spread between the dumpsters, I looked
down the alley both ways and saw no one, then I
proceeded on autopilot.
The handcuffs were first, unclipped from my harness and
then fastened, one pair on the wrists the other on the
ankles. Next came a dense sponge ball apparently
designed for people to practice games near glass
windows. It was quite unyielding and despite the lack
of resistance it took some pushing in.
I sealed it there with two quick strips of duct tape,
each starting along the jaw line, crossing over her
lips and ending on the opposite cheek. Again I checked
for people aware that this alley would be at it's
busiest in a few minutes. Fortunately I was still safe
so I continued to cover her mouth with strip after
strip of tape.
Then following the plan I strengthened the bonds before
she could move again. Four leather straps, two above
and bellow the elbows, the same at her knees. I quickly
removed the handcuffs from her ankles and from the box
pulled out a pair of bondage cuffs already locked
together with a padlock. I strapped them on her ankles
and she attempted to kick me and made the first sounds
since the stun gun was fired. The sound was soft but
still wasn't quiet enough, turning her on her side I
gathered her hair into a single bunch, holding it with
my right hand I used my left to move an elastic band
from around the right wrist on to the hair. A couple of
quick flips and the hair was bound into a pony tail and
kept out of the way of the next stage.
I could hear people leaving the shops down the alley. I
thought of leaving her like this but she was still too
noisy. Quickly and brutally I wound an elastic bandage
around her head and over her taped lips. I knew it was
really tight but at that moment all that mattered was
the effect it had on her cries. Not only were they more
muted, they also became lower and more guttural as she
had to do more with her throat. I could see shadows
moving in the far end of the alley. By now it was too
late to escape.
I would have to hide and hope that my idea would work.
Rolling her on to her stomach I used a spare strap to
hog-tie her wrists to her ankles. Satisfied I threw the
other end of the sleeping bag over her and zipped it
up. After some fumbling it was zipped, because she was
near the bottom of the bag it closed over her head.
Quickly dumping the other rubbish from the box, I used
the top of the sleeping bag to pull her head up and
pushed the box down over her upper body. Dumping half a
bottle of cheap whiskey and some rubbish on the bag I
stood the half bottle strategically next to the wall
and slid behind the dumpster.
She must have heard them because she tried to struggle
and scream as the first people walked by. Of course she
was too late, the passers by smelt the strong alcohol,
saw the ripped sleeping bag and cardboard box and "saw"
a bum not a kidnapped girl. Social conditioning being
what it is the more sound she made the more she became
invisible to the passers by. Just another street person
best ignored lest they tap you for pocket change.
I hid and watched, pleased that the plan had worked but
still a little disturbed at how faceless society had
become. As I crouched there I went through her purse,
found a hastily written notice of dismissal from the
store and understood the tears. Just before it was
quiet enough for me to leave for the car, two of the
women from the cosmetics counter where she worked
stopped by the dumpsters. I froze convinced they had
recognized something that I'd forgotten. In the end
however they just lit cigarettes, and gossiped about
how "that stupid bitch, Caroline" had pushed her luck
too far.
Perhaps recognizing the voices she tried to struggle
and scream again, one commented that the cops should
lock such people away and they flounced off with a self
congratulatory waddle. Looking down on her as she
sobbed inside the sleeping bag I began to think that I
could be doing her a favor and that of all the people
she knew only I her kidnapper, her rapist, her MASTER
really cared what happened to her. With this in mind I
checked the coast was clear and opened the bag. The
handcuffs on her wrists were already biting, cutting
off her circulation. The extra strain from the hog-tie
was making it worse, she must have been in agony.
I released the hog-tie and started wrapping duct tape
around her wrists, when I had built up enough I removed
the handcuffs and continued over her hands. I was able
to force her to lace her fingers together with threats
of a knife and taped her fingers into a solid mass. The
result was that when I reapplied the hog-tie strap it
bit into the tape not her wrists. She seemed happy that
the pain had stopped so I re-interred her in the
sleeping bag and box. Then I piled other rubbish around
her and went to get the car.
That trip took me twenty minutes and it was with some
trepidation that I approached the dumpsters again. I
pulled off the box and was relieved to see her gagged
face rather than the street cop I'd half expected. She
was sobbing, huge tears ran down her face. Quickly I
blew her nose and warned her to stop blubbing or risk
suffocation.
I don't know how many people walked past her as she lay
bound and gagged in the alleyway, but the experience of
being so helpless yet so close to rescue had filled her
with despair. She gave me little trouble as I moved her
from the alley into the trunk of my car. I quickly
packed the blankets and pillows around her to further
muffle her and to minimize the risk she could somehow
pound on the metal of the car. Satisfied I quickly
cleaned up, dumping most of the stage dressing for my
"bum" in the dumpsters. I started to throw the whiskey
in too but an impulse stopped me and instead I placed
it where only an invisible man would look and left to
take my prize to her new home.