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Amanda shivered again. With the darkness, it was growing colder, and for all the good her skimpy bra and diminutive panties did her, she might have been naked. And in addition, her panties were still damp with Becky's saliva. She had considered trying to make her way into the house in search of covering. But it was not a risk she felt she could take. Detection would raise the alarm unnecessarily and give Henry Baxter more time to figure out where Becky was going.

Wearily, the near-naked F.B.I. agent turned around and began to look for somewhere to hide.

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Beneath the leather straps was rope: seemingly miles of it. Rope welded her elbows painfully together. Rope cinched her wrists. Rope lashed her arms to her body, looping around above and below her breasts. And rope bound her legs at the ankles, knees and thighs. Like her elbows, her knees were secured both above and below the joint.

Then there was the gag.

The woman had taken great care with that. The remains of her pale pink panties had been balled up and stuffed in her mouth. A giant knot had then been tied in a long strip of material torn from her T-shirt. And that had been worked between her teeth to hold the panties in place before the gag was tied with such ferocity behind her head that it pulled at the corners of her mouth. The whole thing had been sealed in with several feet of adhesive tape, which went right around Amy's head. Above the gag, Amy eyes were still hidden behind the blindfold.

Amy lay on her side. She was completely naked, of course.

'I shall be gone for three to four hours, Dr. Parsons,' the woman said darkly.

Amy shuddered at the thought. How could she be left tied up like this for three or four hours.

'Of course,' the woman continued. 'If you think that this is bad, by the time I return you'll be in agony. So the choice is yours. Either you tell me what I want to know when I return. Or I'll leave you like this all night.'

Amy lay there, choking on her cloying gag, while the woman busied herself about the room. Amy was already in agony. How could she stand this all night. But what could she say to get herself freed?

'I saw from your house that you are a very tidy person, Dr. Parsons,' the woman said after a few minutes. 'But there's no need to worry about your discarded clothes. I've gathered them all up: jacket, jeans, boots, socks. Not to mention the remains of your sweater, T-shirt and bra. So you've no need to worry about them. I know exactly where I can dispose of them. After all, as we just agreed, you won't be needing them again.'

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But Rommy was not merely tied up. She was hog-tied. So, when she launched herself forward she came down heavily on her breasts and only managed to collide with the door: not open it at all. Moaning into her gag, she tried again. This time, she rolled towards it, twisting her body desperately as she did so. The door groaned. But once again it stayed shut. Rommy mewed once more, and then launched herself a third time. Success! Well in part. She jarred the door open slightly and landed over the threshold, her breasts again taking most of the force of the impact.

Rommy grimaced as the door closed against her head. She propelled herself forward again. This time she groaned audibly through her gag as her breasts came into contact with the piece of metal which divided the carpeted room from the wood-covered closet floor.

'Hmmmphhh,' she groaned again, as she edged forward. She had moved perhaps three inches. But the right cup of her 36C bra hooked itself on the metal beneath her and her breast threatened to slip out.

'Nnnggg,' she moaned as she propelled herself forward again. This time she managed only an inch, but at least she managed to free her bra from the carpet edge.

But at a cost.

As she moved, her breast had popped out of the bra cup and come down painfully on the metal beneath. Biting into the gag, she squirmed forward ... again ... and again.

Now both of her breasts had come completely free of the bra. But at least her head and upper torso were clear of the closet.

She looked around. There in the middle of the room sat her two fellow captive. She could tell that the one with her back to them was completely naked. Her wrists were crossed and bound behind her back and there was rope around her bare body. This tied her both to her companion and to the chair back against which both sat.

The woman was blond. Two large knots at the back of her head indicated that she was both gagged and blindfolded. From Rommy's position, her companion was invisible, except for her long legs, which were stretched out beneath the naked woman's bare bottom and were tied at ankles, knees and thighs.

Slowly, Romelia wriggled forward.

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Ten minutes had elapsed since she had seen Becky move out of sight. But still she had found nowhere to hide, and dressed as she was in just her underwear, she knew that she needed somewhere swarm soon: before she froze.

He hopes were raised slightly when she got to the rear of the mansion. There a small flight of steps went down five feet or so. From the top, Amanda could just tell that there was a window at the bottom. But she would be able to keep out of the sight of anyone in the room it lit, while the steps would give her some shelter from the wind. It would do for a bit, at least.

The sight that greeted Amanda at the bottom of the stairs, however, made her re-evaluate her situation. There in the cellar, lashed to an upright support and clearly in distress form her gag was a very attractive young woman. Before tying her to the upright, someone, probably Alyssa Baxter, if past record were anything to go by, had torn her dress open, so that most of her bra and some of her panties were on display. She stood unnaturally, her breasts thrust out rather more than nature intended, and Amanda could guess from her own earlier treatment that her elbows were tied. Once again, she suspected that this was Alyssa's handy work.

On the face of it, it made sense to leave the woman there. After all, they couldn't escape until help came and it would be harder for two of them to hide. But as Amanda watched, the woman retched and began to go red in the face. Desperation appeared in her eyes as she struggled to recover from her choking fit. Then, no sooner had her heaving chest began to settle in their thin covering, than she began to retch again.

Amanda shivered again. But this time she shivered with alarm rather than cold. A decision had to be made. And Amanda suspected that she would not enjoy the outcome. She could only hope that Alyssa Baxter still lay undiscovered in the attic.

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Then, she dressed. Underwear first. Her own panties she tossed into the bin. She hardly wanted to wash them and wear them again after all they had been through. Her bra, of course, was long gone. The matching grape-coloured La Perla bra and panties set she had just bought filled the gap nicely. As soon as she had donned Mia Lampton's clothes again, she felt human.

Fortunately, Dr. Lampton had good taste in clothing, so her outfit would do for a while. Melinda brushed and styled her hair and then made for the diner across the road. A good meal would not only revive her fortunes, it would give her an opportunity to think about exactly what she would do to Paul's bimbo once they reached Canada.

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'Those bitches will pay for this,' Alyssa shouted. 'I'll string them up so tight, their bodies will vibrate with the strain. And that's only for starters.'

Forgetting her demand for the robe, she strode aggressively from the room. 'While I dress, you fetch Daddy. We'll start a hunting party.'

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It was no good.

She would have to do something about it: even if it meant risking capture. After all, Becky ought to be clear by now.

Wishing that she had her firearm with her, Amanda made her way back up the steps and round to the back door. She entered swiftly, a single glance making sure that there was no one there, and quickly crossed to the cellar entrance.

Still no-one.

The door was locked and bolted. But the key was there. Carefully Amanda slid back the bolt and turned the key. A minute later she was tearing the tape from the woman's face.

'Thanks,' the woman muttered hoarsely when Amanda had prised the nerf ball from between her teeth. 'I'm Isla Lewis.'

'F.B.I. Special Agent Amanda Thornton at your service,' Amanda whispered.

'You don't look like an F.B.I. agent dressed like that,' Isla said, smiling weakly.

'Oh, you're wrong,' Amanda replied, as she struggled with the nearest knot. 'This is exactly what the typical female F.B.I. agent wears. The only difference is that the others get to wear things over the top.'

Isla smiled the best she could at the joke. It took several minutes before Amanda could free her from the post.

'Thanks again,' Isla said.

'Don't thank me yet,' Amanda replied. 'We're not out of this by any means yet. As you've noticed, I'm not exactly dressed for escape.'

'No,' Isla said, trying to smile. 'Me neither. I see that underwear is very much the uniform around here.'

'Well,' Amanda agreed, 'if they think it hinders escape, I'm sure they're right. I don't know about you. But I've spent enough time running around outside in just my bra and panties to know we stand no chance at all making a run for it dressed like this. Here, let me get have a go at your arms.'

She turned Isla around. Amanda winced when she saw how tightly the woman's elbows were crushed together. The ends of the rope had been knotted before the vertical windings which cinch the bonds had been applied and then knotted a second time. Those knots had been tucked away neatly out of reach. Amanda reached deftly for the fastening.

'Leave it, Agent Thornton,' a voice said behind her.

Amanda recognized the voice at once. She turned to see Henry Baxter pointing a small but deadly revolver at her.

'I want her,' a female voice snapped behind Baxter.

'And you shall have her, Alyssa dear. Indeed, you will. After all, Agent Thornton, I doubt if you'll tell me where Dr. Lampton's gone, and, although I could make you tell me, we haven't got the time for that, have we? So I'm going to let Alyssa here tie you up in one of the many ways I hear she's got planned for you.'

Alyssa was dressed in blue jeans and a yellow sweater. She smiled broadly as Baxter ushered Amanda from the room with the gun. As they left the cellar, one of the large men appeared. Amanda could see that he was grinning.

'Joe, replace the gag in Miss Lewis' mouth and then tie her back to the pillar,' Baxter ordered

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But at least, she was dressed. Becky shuddered at the memory of being forced to strip naked before being bound and then gagged with another woman's panties. It was an experience she was desperate never to repeat.

As she began to descend into the next valley, Becky was caught by a gust of sharp wind. Pulling her hair from her eyes, before wrapping her arms around herself, she scanned the valley beneath. As soon as she saw the house below and her spirits rose. Not only was it the promised sanctuary but it was the place where she was staying at with her friends.

Becky made a quick calculation. Getting to the Lesalle place should take no more than ten minutes. A quick call to the police, a shower, her own clothes, the comfort of Debbie and Amy and the ordeal would be over.

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'Can't you leave the gag off,' Isla pleaded. 'I promise not to make any noise. And even if I did who would hear me.'

'Sorry,' Joe said softly. 'Boss' orders. The gag goes back in.'

Isla doubted if he were sorry at all. But what choice had she got. He had already lashed her to the post even more tightly than before. Her elbows already hurt from the strain of the arm tie. But now they were crushed against the post as well. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth.

If the ball had tasted bad before, it was much worse now. Isla retched once more and fought her gag reflex as Joe covered her mouth and jaw with duct tape and then wound more of the tape around her head.

When he had finished, he stood still for a moment, and then gave his captive a long look. Up and down his eyes went. Isla reddened. With her arms tied behind her, she had had no opportunity to try to close her torn dress across her shapely breasts. It was there that his eyes lingered. Isla reddened more. Not only was her bra exposed. But, as part of the rôle she was playing, she had replaced her normal, seamless lycra bra with an under-wired lace half-cup bra, which not only exposed the tops of her breasts but held them high and out. And what the bra did not achieve in the presentation stakes, her elbows-together tie did. She felt as if her breasts were being presented to all and sundry on a platter.

The large man dwelled on her breasts seemingly for ages. Then, his eyes went back down and concentrated on Isla's tiny yellow, string-sided panties, which were barely concealed beneath the flesh-coloured pantyhose she still wore. There, at least, she had only herself to blame. These were her normal choice of panties: the style she preferred to wear.

Joe kept his eyes on Isla's loins just long enough to make her squirm in her tight ropes. Then, his focus returned to her breasts. After a second his right hand shot out towards the front of her bra. Convinced that the man was about to tear her bra off, Isla heard herself squeal into her gag.

The man laughed, pleased with the effect his actions had had. He reached out and deftly flicked a piece of dirt from the left cup of Isla's bra.

'If you think you've got it bad,' he said, sniggering, 'you should count yourself lucky you're not in Agent Thornton's shoes.' He let out a guffaw. 'Or perhaps I should say in her bra and panties.'

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The hog-tie prevented all but the smallest shuffling movement, which she could only manage by wriggling along on her breasts and loins. However, her worst problem was the carpet.

Whoever had installed the carpet had wanted something practical rather than luxurious. And the result was some kind of mixed weave of nylon and wool. It was against that rough texture that Rommy's nipples scratched every time she tried to edged forward. They had done do ever since her breasts had worked themselves free of her bra cups at the beginning of her effort.

Lesalle had made matters worse. He had not merely tied her wrists behind her back; but her elbows too. He hadn't made them meet. He wasn't that big a bastard. But they were tied no more than three inches apart. Even that had been enough to make it virtually impossible for Rommy to prevent her nipples from rubbing against the carpet.

At first, the effect had been no more than to stimulate Rommy's nipples until they were erect. She blushed at this, but knew that it couldn't be helped. Pleasurable it wasn't. At least it didn't actually cause distress.

That was soon to change. Soon it began to scrape. Then it began to scour. By the time she was only half way to her destination, it had become like jogger's nipple, but with a vengeance.

Rommy wanted to stop. But she daren't. So, biting into her gag and whining, she wriggled on.

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it was already dark and Amanda Thornton had still not returned. Gina Scott looked at her watch one more time. Ten minutes to five.

Gina lifted the telephone receiver from its cradle and dialled the Freeway Motel. She had wanted to show off to Amanda and tell her about everything she had discovered. But there was too little time left. She would have to go it alone.

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Chapter Thirteen

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