Chapter eight
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R
ebecca Carpenter grimaced as the multiple layers of tape were pulled from her face. She opened her mouth wide to let FBI Special Agent Amanda Thornton dig out the large plug of cloth straining her jaw. Amanda Thornton stood over her, dressed in just bra and panties. She had selflessly ungagged Becky first and she still had several strands of the duct tape glued across the lower part of her face. Amanda began unfastening Becky's left wrist.'Thank you,' Becky said as soon as she could speak.
'Mmmm,' Amanda replied, her face smiling over the grey tape. She unfastened Becky's left wrist; then leaned across her to start work on the right. The FBI agent's bra-clad breasts were only inches from Becky's face as she worked on the knot. Then, Becky's other hand was free. Becky squirmed on the bed in an attempt to release her widely-spread ankles, while Amanda worked on the tape glued to her face. It came off with a rasping sound and Amanda worked a sodden lump of cloth from between her own teeth.
'Here, allow me,' she croaked after a second, reaching down to unfasten Becky's ankles. Soon, she was free.
'Thanks,' Becky said again. 'We're not out of here yet,' Amanda replied softly. 'There's still the door.'
The entrance distracted the FBI agent for even less time than her ropes. She took a length of the cord from the bed and pushed it under the door in a loop. Then she scanned the floor for a loose bit of floor board and eased out a six inch long splinter from on edge. She used this to pushed the key out and then pulled it back towards her with the cord. 'Just the bolt, now,' she exclaimed, 'one at the top.' She turned the handle with her left hand and gave a hard blow at the top of the door with the palm of the other. There was a splintering sound as the bolt came away. 'Easy when you know exactly where it is,' she commented. Amanda Thornton opened the door a crack and peered through. 'No-one,' she said.
'Then, let's get out.'
The FBI agent looked sceptical. It's eight miles back to town,' she said, 'and they've bound to have moved my car. If we try it in just our underwear we'll freeze.
'But the alternative is worse.'
Amanda thought for a moment. 'You saw how difficult the going was when we tried to get to my car. The wind will chill us very quickly. These people certainly knew what they were doing when they stripped us down to bra and panties.'
'I'm not sure that's why they wanted to do it,' Becky commented. 'I think that they just wanted to humiliate us.'
'Perhaps. But whatever the reason, the same logic applies. We have to find a 'phone and get help or get some top clothes, a coat and some footwear before we can get out of here,'
'Is there not another house near?'
'The closest is about three miles away. It belongs to someone called Lesalle.'
Becky's ears pricked up. 'That's where I'm staying. We could go there.'
'Same applies. It's up over some hills. We'd not just be going higher into a stronger wind, but we'd need sturdy footwear for that terrain. I don't fancy lying out in the hills with a sprained ankle in just my underwear.'
Becky suddenly seemed downcast. 'So what do you suggest?' she asked.
'I'm not sure,' Amanda confided. 'I'll never overpower the giant who tied us up. So we'll have to be careful not to attract attention. Perhaps if we could get downstairs and out to the garage, we might hot wire a car.'
Becky shrugged. It didn't seem like much of a plan, but it's all they had.
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I
sla Lewis was getting bored. First that idiot man, Paul Lesalle had deserted her. Now Baxter and his daughter had disappeared. She looked again at the paintings in front of her. She was now sure that she had enough evidence to expose the insurance fraud that had brought her here. Not before time too. Any more delay and she might have been put in the position when actually have had to sleep with Lesalle or pull out. And, of that choice, there was no uncertainty. She wondered how his wife put up with the failed playboy. She went out into the hallway and began to look for her coat. There would be other benefits when she got back to her desk job as well. Her hair could go back to its normal chestnut colour and she would no longer have to wear such ridiculous dresses. She had let Lesalle pick this one out at a local boutique and she had wondered if it had been possible to find one any shorter: or which showed more chest.'Going somewhere, my dear?'
Isla looked up and found herself staring into the face of Henry Baxter. She was instantly aware that he was looking somewhat lower down. His daughter was there too.
'I thought, I'd go and look for Paul,' she said sweetly. 'If you would let me telephone for a cab.'
'Oh, don't run off yet,' Baxter said affably.
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D
ebra Sinclair bit down on the copious amounts of cloth packed into her mouth, as she and Melinda Lesalle shuffled another couple of centimetres across the floor. It was hard work. As both were blindfolded, neither could see where she was going; nor could they co-ordinate their movements. And they somehow had to drag the heavy weight tied to their ankles with each movement. Debbie could only hope that her fellow captive knew what she was doing. Tied face to face, neither could get much leverage.'Mmmphhhh,' Debbie moaned as her near-naked companion edged forward again.
In order to propel herself, Melinda had to go upwards on to her toes. As she did, her hands pulled the between-the-legs rope into Debbie's crotch and her bare breasts bounced upwards and then downwards against Debbie's own.
A second later, Debbie found herself moving upwards. Now, her bare breasts went upwards, meeting Melinda's as they came down. Then the rope snagged on the metal drum until it too moved a fraction forward. Wherever they were going, Debbie mused, it was going to take a long time to get there.
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'S
houldn't I make a move if I'm going to collect that package from town, father?' Alyssa Baxter asked testily. Her irritation was just beginning to show. Sure, this woman had good breasts and excellent legs, but other than that she wasn't that much to write home about. Alyssa's practised eye could see at once that she bleached her hair. And, if her father really wanted this piece, why didn't he just take her. She was exactly the kind of leverage, they needed to use against Paul Lesalle. And, instead of trying to see down the front of her dress, her father could have the garment off in seconds. That was one service, Alyssa would gladly perform. Hell, she'd have everything off the little trollop in the blink of an eye. Then, her father could see for himself that she wasn't a natural blonde.'Of course, my dear,' Baxter said, 'you go.'
He turned to Isla Lewis. 'No my dear, I wouldn't dream of letting you get a taxi. If Mr Lesalle doesn't return in the next ten minutes or so, I'll gladly take you into town myself.'
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R
omelia Parsons had endured her first, and so far her only sexual rebuff while at university. Unlike her flatmate who had sulked for ages when a similar catastrophe had beset her, Rommy had dealt with it quite simply. She had buried herself in the library and worked: worked until the whole thing had gone away. Now, eight years later, she had another remedy for when she was angry or upset. She took exercise. It was for that reason that Rommy now crouched over her suitcase in dark blue sweat pants, running shoes and her everyday bra sorting through items of clothing.'Damn,' she exclaimed out loud after several minutes of looking for her sports bra. The garment was nowhere to be found, and, although Rommy was not spectacularly large up top, she felt that her thirty-six C breasts definitely benefited from that extra bit of support. 'You're just gonna have to improvise, girl,' she said, suddenly embarrassed by the knowledge that she was talking to herself. She delved once again into the case and pulled out a pale green leotard. Pulling off her sweat pants, she stood momentarily still in her white bra and panties, sports socks and Nike trainers, as if undecided. Then, she pushed her right leg into the stretchy garment. The leotard was cut high on the hip. But so were Rommy's lycra panties and as soon as she had smoothed the leotard in place, nothing betrayed itself beneath the garment's lower edge. Satisfied, Rommy pulled it upwards and wound her arms into it, letting it snap snugly over her bra. For a moment, Rommy considered taking the bra off. But, she decided against. After all, she needed as much support as she could get.
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P
aul Lesalle slammed his cell phone shut and tossed it back in his pocket. That bastard Baxter, he had hardly waited until Paul was out of the house before snatching Isla. That was bad enough. But somehow he had got hold of Melinda as well!! That was dire. If his suspicions were right about his darling wife, he needed her now much more than he needed Isla. But, the phone call had revealed that whoever was holding them had told Melinda about Isla. Now, his wife knew about her, there was every chance that Melinda would refuse to have anything to do with him again.Then there was Romelia Parsons. If he didn't stop her, she would go to the police. That he would have to prevent at all costs. He cast his mind forward. There was plenty of climbing rope back at the house. Enough certainly to keep Rommy Parsons nicely trussed up for a bit. What a juicy proposition that was. The fair Dr Parsons was not only brainy, she was undoubtedly good looking. He remembered the way her breasts had looked as they swelled magnificently beneath the red sweater she had worn to the bar. Of course, he could never take advantage of her. That would never do. He might be a bad egg, but he certainly wasn't a rapist. Still, that did not mean that he had to be perfect gentleman.
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A
manda Thornton crept down the rear stairs of the house and made for the utility room, where she had first entered. She felt rather strange running around such a magnificent mansion, dressed only in her bra and panties, like a school girl caught late at night running from a midnight feast. She recognized the door of the utility room and quickly made for its shelter. As soon as she had taken cover, she waved back and Becky dashed towards her, her chest bouncing in its flimsy covering as her bare feet skidded on the highly-polished floor. They made their way through the utility room; then perched on the concrete steps at the rear of the house. The two cars were parked about thirty yards away. Only that distance stood between the two of them and freedom.______________________________________________________________________
A
my Lesalle couldn't believe it. There, not more than fifty yards in front of her, stood her uncle Paul. Yet he was supposed to be miles away. The last thing she wanted was for him to arrive at the house while Becky and Debbie were there. When Amy was growing up, she had found her uncle fun. But now she was older, she began to see him for what he was: a scoundrel with an eye for women and not quite enough charm to carry it off. If his wife weren't such a bitch, Amy would have felt sorry for her. But Amy reckoned that she saw her marriage as a business deal. She subsidised his spending habits and in return she could use the family name and Amy's father's connections. It was Amy's father who had insisted that Amy took her friends to the house. Amy had preferred to stay away from her uncle, but her father had argued that their presence would improve the family reputation in the town.As Amy watched him, Paul Lesalle appeared to be about to make a decision about something. He walked three paces to his right and then turned abruptly and retraced his steps. He stopped again; then turned and made his way briskly back towards her. For a second, Amy thought that he must have spotted her. But as he neared, she could see that his thoughts were miles away. Then, before her got too close, he turned to his right and made his way up a short hill. Without knowing exactly why, Amy decided to follow.
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'M
mmnnnphhh,' Debbie groaned in an attempt to indicate that their perambulations were beginning to hurt. Despite the cold and her near nudity, her body was covered with a sheen of perspiration.'Nnnnnggg, nnnnggg,' Melinda Lesalle retorted, throwing herself forward once again.
There was a crunch and Debbie felt her left side come into contact with a shelving unit. The metal was cold against her bare skin. At that point, Melinda must have raised her hand because Debbie's went up too, and the rope between her legs was pulled sharply upwards.
'M
mmpphhh,' Debbie groaned, in an attempt to persuade her fellow captive to relieve the pressure on her crotch. But, Melinda took no notice. If anything the pressure increased. It continued until Debbie thought that she might be cut in two upwards and then abruptly stopped. Whatever, Melinda had tried to reach, she had evidently either taken hold of it, or given up altogether. All Debbie could do was to wait and see.______________________________________________________________________
'O
h, it's you,' Rommy Parsons said, less than enthusiastically as Paul Lesalle came towards her.'I need to talk to you. Something's come up,' Paul said brusquely. 'Can we go in?'
Rommy had been in the middle of stretching exercises in the doorway of her cottage. She now wore sweat pants and a hooded top over her leotard. 'All right,' she said.
They went into the stylish sitting room of the small cottage. Rommy stood uncomfortably at the edge of the room, waiting for Paul to say whatever he had come to say.
'They've kidnapped my wife,' he said suddenly.
'Oh, my god,' Rommy started coming towards Paul.
As she did, he reached out and clamped a hand over her mouth.
'So, I've got to keep you quite, until I can get her back,' he said quietly.
Rommy struggled. Rommy kicked. But she weighed just a hundred and two pounds and Lesalle was considerably bigger. And her trainers made much less of an impact than her out-door shoes would have done.
Within minutes, he had dragged her upstairs to the bedroom. Her struggling increased when his hand went around to her front and unzipped her sweat top. But he merely pulled it backwards to entangle her arms. Then, he threw her on to the bed, pushing her face down into a pillow to muffle any screams and reached for a discarded flesh-colored pair of pantyhose. In seconds, the sweat top was off altogether and he had tied her wrists together tightly with the hose.
It was then that Lesalle thought he heard the first noise from downstairs. 'Shush,' he commanded, squeezing his hand tighter against Rommy's lips and teeth.
This only prompted Rommy to kick out.
In response, Lesalle dragged her sweat pants down to her ankles in an attempt to trap her legs. It was not quite successful. Rommy immediately decided that she only had to kick the pants off entirely to be able top continue her assault on the man holding her from behind. But unfortunately for her, the pants caught on the heels of her Nikes as she tried to kick them off.
'If you're not going to be quiet voluntarily, I'll have to gag you,' Lesalle hissed.
Rommy felt herself part lifted and part dragged from her bed and across the room. As Lesalle spun her round, she came face to face with the wicker basket in which she disposed of her dirty laundry. His hand went in and Rommy immediately began to buck when she saw what he was about to remove. However, all she managed to do was to entangle her feet further in the sweat pants.
'Open wide, Rommy,' Lesalle said, plucking out a pair of black lace panties, the ones she had worn out to dinner two nights previously.
With one giant effort, she kicked of her right shoe and pulled her foot out of the running pants, leaving the white ankle sock entangled in the leg of the garment. Then, she kicked backwards, managing to connect with his crotch, but finding that the blow had very little force.'
'You'll pay for that, Rommy,' he snarled. He removed the hand from Rommy's mouth just long enough to shove the panties in between her teeth. He reached back into the basket for a second pair of panties and tried adding them to the first. He was only partly successful leaving parts of the pale yellow cotton garment protruding from between her lips, but he was satisfied enough to use the black strapless bra, which she had teamed with the black panties for her dinner date, to tie them in place.
Lesalle turned her back round and tossed her on to the bed. All this time, Rommy had been working on the nylon wrist binding. As her bottom came into contact with the bed, her hands came free. Rommy immediately leapt up and as her legs made for the door, her hands reached up for the gag.
But Lesalle, although running to seed, had the advantage that he did not have to fight for breath through two pairs of panties, which threatened to choke her. Within seconds, he had Rommy back on her front on the bed. Now he could tie her without having to have one hand held over her mouth, he easily got her hands secured again. This time one leg of the pantyhose was used to tie her wrists and the second to cinch the binding.
Lesalle reached down and removed her second running shoe taking the sock with it. Sitting on Rommy's butt, he unwound the lace and then used it to tie her thumbs together. The other shoe gave up its shoelace and he used that to bind her big toes. Then he went through drawers until he found a couple of belts. He used one on her ankles and one on her knees. The same draw also held a long silk scarf, which he tied over her mouth and the bra-and-panty gag filling it. The draw above held pantyhose and he used a pair of these to tie Rommy's elbows, binding them so that they were no more than six inches apart.
Rommy felt herself spun back around, so that she was looking up at Lesalle. Her chest was heaving vigorously and the leotard was glued to her midriff with perspiration. At the rear it had rucked up into her butt taking her panties with it, and it was no longer quite comfortable enough.
What now, she wondered as Lesalle began to pick her up.
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F
reedom at last. Debbie cheered silently into her mouth-filling gag as the ropes came loose which bound her to Melinda Lesalle. Debbie reached up and pulled off the blindfold to see the other woman cutting through the rope binding their legs. She had evidently known were to find a small gardening knife and she had used that to free them.Debbie groaned into her gag as their bodies parted, their breasts momentarily glued together with a fine veneer of perspiration. She was suddenly embarrassed about her naked breasts and the tiny thong bikini bottom she wore. But at least she was free.
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T
he cold air whipped at their near-naked bodies as Amanda Thornton and Rebecca Carpenter crunched their way on bare feet across the gravel. They were in luck. The doors to the Mercedes were open and both women were able to slide into the front seats. Amanda shivered as her almost bare bottom came into contact with the shiny leather seat.Then there was more luck. As she looked forward, Amanda could see the keys hanging limply in the ignition. They were nearly home free.
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I
t was a sense of mischief that made up Amy's mind. At first she thought that it would be improper to enter the small cottage, even though the front door was open. Then, she decided to go in. There was no-one in either the hallway or two front rooms but Amy could tell that from some of the items lying around that the house belonged to a woman.At first, the noises from upstairs startled her. But it didn't take Amy long to guess that they belonged to two very enthusiastic lovers. So, that was what her uncle Paul was getting up to, Amy concluded wryly. The dirty old man had a mistress.
Suddenly, it went quiet upstairs. Amy looked around for a minute or two more, before starting to leave. She turned suddenly to find that she was not alone. In the doorway to the cottage stood a tall, slender woman dressed in a black leather body suit.
'Ah, Dr. Parsons, I presume,' she said.
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