|The Abduction of Monica|
|by Richard Alexander|
|email@example.com - All comments welcome|
|© Copyright 2009 - Richard Alexander - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: FM/mfff; bond; bdsm; chain; hogtie; toys; nc; X|
|The Abduction of Monica 22: Caught by Richard Alexander FM/mfff; bond; bdsm; chain; hogtie; toys; nc; X|
Chapter 22: Caught
|continued from Chapter 21
We were made to walk back to the house, illuminated in the headlights of the Toyota, chained and bound in ways that the word ‘awkward’ didn’t begin to do justice to. Ivana walked behind us, her own feet protected from the sharp stones by her boots, while we stumbled and stuttered in bare feet. Ivana took delight in slashing at our exposed buttocks with a long twig she had found and stripped of its leaves, and we were powerless to do anything about it. The pistol in her belt was on prominent display, and I had no doubt she would use it.
We had played our hand and lost, and our credit was just about up, I sensed. Our appearance at the cement works had interrupted Warren’s perfectly thought out plan and he was not a happy camper. Ivana, on the other hand, was just plain psychotic, given to inflicting pain without needing a deep emotional reason. It simply turned her on. That was the difference between her and a true Domme. She gained no pleasure from the subbie’s response and satisfaction at her hands. It was only about Ivana. If her submissive got off on pain, then fate had been kind in hooking them up. If the subbie sought anything more, it likely would not be their lucky day.
We were both limping on cut and bruised feet by the time we got to the house. All the way back I tried to think of something to say to Sofiya for putting her through this. We had barely had a chance to speak since our capture many hours ago, though far too much time for thinking and for a major guilt trip. But now the words wouldn’t come – not with Ivana only a metre behind. Under normal circumstances I would have expected Sofiya’s body language to be dominated by a bowed head, but the way she had been tied with the rope at her throat forced her to keep an erect posture as her bound hands pulled at the rope around her neck.
We were taken inside the house this time, through the front door into the living room. Suddenly the presence of all the U-brackets screwed to the walls and floor became chilling when I thought of the inventiveness of Warren and Ivana and the boxes of gear that I had carried in.
Sofiya was the first to get the treatment, as Warren pushed her against a wall while Ivan vanished into the spare room to re-appear with a carton of… who knew what. Warren took Sofiya’s long blonde tresses and wound a strip of rawhide around them, forming them into a ponytail on top of her head. A length of sashcord was tied to this and pulled through a U-bracket at arm’s length above her, before being tied off to the ponytail again. It was not taut, but enough to prevent much vertical movement.
Ivana finished rummaging in the carton and came up with a two-piece steel pole, where one piece slid inside the other and could be extended and held by a butterfly clamp. Unextended it was perhaps 60 centimetres long. Extended, nearly twice that. Warren looked at Ivana.
“What’s the topping on that, my dear?”
Ivana reached into the box and produced a very large dildo, perhaps seven centimetres across and 20 in length, waving it at Warren and Sofiya. It was made of shiny black silicon with a thin wire dangling from its base and Sofiya’s eyes widened in shock as she saw it. Ivana smiled a smile that made the hairs on my neck stand up and I noticed for the first time the hole drilled in the floorboards – presumably into the joist below – that would serve as a socket for the lower end of the pole. That was part of Warren’s detailed preparation again.
“Open your legs, Sofiya,” ordered Warren. Sofiya said nothing and remained resolutely at attention, legs together. Warren sighed and rolled his eyes at Ivana. “Some people just have no idea what they are letting themselves in for. You just make it harder on yourself, dear,” said Warren, in the manner of a schoolteacher admonishing a recalcitrant child.
Ivana tossed him a short length of rope and together they secured each of Sofiya’s ankles and began to pull them apart. Moments later each rope was tied to a U-bracket and Sofiya’s helplessness and exposure had multiplied exponentially.
Ivana took the pole and crouched in front of Sofiya, slipping the lower end into the recess in the floorboards. The top of the pole stood between Sofiya’s inner thighs just above her knees. I could see Sofiya’s breathing quicken as Ivana’s fingers slid into the helpless girl’s crotch, delving into the blonde bush and exploring the recesses within. Ivana picked up the enormous dildo and flourished it in front of Sofiya.
“Lick it!” she ordered. Again, stubborn Sofiya resisted, keeping her mouth closed until Ivana suddenly twisted a nipple hard enough to make Sofiya yelp, and time enough for Ivana to poke the end of the dildo into Sofiya’s mouth. Sofiya struggled, trying to twist her head away, but she had no chance. The dildo was too big in diameter to go far beyond her teeth, so she was in no danger of choking, and was forced to lick it as Ivana twisted it inside her mouth, eliciting stifled protests.
The dildo came away wet with drool, to be screwed to the top of the pole which was then adjusted upwards.
“You’ll be glad of that lubrication, Sofiya,” said Ivana with a smile, as she slid the dong further upwards, pressing between the pink lips of Sofiya’s pussy. Sofiya gasped.
“It’s too big! I can’t…”
The dildo tapered outwards to its widest near the base, and Ivana seemed not to want to hurry the insertion. It was perhaps a quarter of the way in when Ivana tightened the clamp. Sofiya was doing her best to stand on her tip toes, her eyes closed and her breathing fast. Sooner or later her muscles would have to relax and she would end up lowering herself slowly but inexorably on to the big intruder. I wanted to protest, to scream abuse at Ivana and Warren, but I knew it would likely only make things worse for both of us. Ivana was gleeful as she connected a cord to the wire hanging from the dildo and ran it back into the spare room. I had a feeling that one of the cartons there contained a powerpack of sorts.
Of course it was my turn next. I was ordered on to my knees, then on my stomach, and that last bit isn’t easy with your wrists chained to the back of a two-kilo collar around your neck. I landed on my side, rolling over with difficulty. I felt the heel of Ivana’s boot jammed in the small of my back and her weight start top come on it. I squirmed in pain as she did it several times. Warren sat on one of the folding camp chairs to watch the floor show.
“Steven,” he said with a pained tone to his voice. “You’ve been a real inconvenience to me – you and your little friend. I don’t know how you found us – yet – though I’m sure I will do very soon. Needless to say, because of you two, I’ve been forced to relocate to this place, which unfortunately doesn’t have the atmosphere of the cement works – I’m sure you’ll agree. Oh sure, it’s a nice bush setting, but didn’t you love those solid wood columns and brick walls and the big rafters? Houses are such soulless places – no real character or ambience. Thanks to you I now have to modify all my plans for Monica and Mary.”
My heart went out to him, the poor chap. Life just sucked, sometimes.
“The problem, my friend, is that I really didn’t plan on four people. Mary is a bonus, since it was really just Monica I wanted. One more I am happy to accommodate. Two extras on top of that is just a pain in the arse that I don’t have time for. I will do you a favour in making your end as quick as I can – not like some people here who would probably like it to be rather more protracted.” He glanced meaningfully at Ivana.
“And to show you how humane I can be, I will allow the four of you to spend a last night together – what’s left of it. You’ll probably want some time to catch up – and to say goodbye.” Warren’s voice was incredibly matter-of-fact, as though he was telling someone about a beach holiday. “However, before I leave you all to your joyous reunion, tell me how you found me at the cement works.”
Regrettably, I was not feeling at all calm and relaxed.
“Fuck off,” I said. I didn’t raise my voice, simply offered the option to him as a reasonable human being. There wasn’t much point in ranting about how he would never get away with it. The likelihood was in fact that he would, for nobody had a clue where we were, us included. I could hardly bluff that a hundred cops were on their way, or that we had secret tracking devices on our persons. We had been down that road in great detail, and our nakedness was the result.
“I’m sorry you have to take that attitude, Steven. I always thought you were far too sensible for that sort of thing. I’m sure Ivana might like to change your mind.” He looked questioningly at her, and almost before he had finished she was ferreting in the carton to come up with a length of rope and a big hook.
Oh crap, I thought – not an arse hook. I really didn’t need this. But there was a matter of pride at stake now.
Ivana tied the hook to the end of the rope. The hook was of stainless steel rod as thick as a man’s finger and curved at about the diameter of a tennis ball. Ivana tied my ankles together first with a further rope, then inserted the hook in my arse. It felt cold and filling, but not immediately painful. In fact, it was rather less so than a big butt plug. However when she threaded the rope through one of the links of the chain attached to the neck collar, things began to get worse. She then took the end of the rope back down and between my ankles, forming a cinch, before starting to pull. The tension came on between my ankles and neck, transferring down to the hook, as I was slowly pulled into a bizarre hogtie variation, my back arching until it could go no further. I gritted my teeth as she tied off the rope at my ankles, then to the inevitable U-bracket. Ivana and Warren were too experienced to let prisoners wriggle together to each other to undo each other’s ropes.
“Comfortable?” Warren asked in a conciliatory tone. This time I said nothing. “Now, be a reasonable chap and tell me how you found us.” Again I said nothing. He sighed. “I can see you’re going to be difficult. I didn’t want to do this, but I know you, Steven. Believe it or not, I know how your mind works. Ivana, get the big flogger.” Ivana grinned and vanished into the spare room, to reappear with a flogger. It was heavy, with rubber tails, and I knew it would hurt like hell, although I wasn’t sure how easy it would be for them to beat me on the ground with ropes running the length of my back.
From my position with my head pulled back off the floor I watched Ivana’s shiny black boots stride past, the heels inches from my face and the flogger tails dragging across my exposed flesh. Mentally I steeled myself for the impact.
The smack of rubber against flesh was loud in the night silence, but it wasn’t me who felt the pain. There was a scream from Sofiya and I raised my gaze with difficulty to see her left breast turn red from the impact of the flogger. Ivana struck again, this time on the right breast. Sofiya tried to smother the scream but couldn’t do it. Ivana was getting a rhythm going and lashed Sofiya’s thighs, causing her to reflexively move them downwards, impaling her further on the big dildo. She groaned and bit her lip and I was yet again impressed at her stoicism and bravery.
“All right! Stop it! You win, Warren, you shit!”
Ivana let loose two more strokes across the tight muscles of Sofiya’s belly before Warren signalled for her to stop. Ivana had a predatory look about her now, as though she was a few strokes short of being out of control.
“Well?” Warren demanded.
“Sofiya’s an empath – a sort of psychic,” I said. “She empathised with Monica and managed to track her down.”
“Track her down? How?”
“You tell me – then we’ll both know. Sort of like a radio transmitter crossed with a bloodhound. The closer you get, the stronger the signal, the more detail… Hell, I don’t know. It just happened. She somehow got into Monica’s psyche and made a connection.”
“Really? I’m impressed. It sounds outrageous enough to be true. What do you think, Ivana?”
“This is what I hear before,” she said. “Stories from Russia, from Sydney, around town. This one has strange powers. I do not like her.” I thought that was an understatement.
“Well, after tomorrow you won’t have to worry about her, since she’ll be at the bottom of the mine shaft with her boyfriend here. Why don’t you bring the others in so they’re all one big happy family?”
Ivana did not seem to mind being treated as Warren’s lackey. She got off on any opportunity to display her dominance and if that simply meant leading helplessly restrained individuals around at the end of a chain, then it was good enough for her.
That was exactly what she did now, bringing in Mary on the end of a metre-long chain. Mary still wore the iron collar with the front bar connected to the single iron cuff around her wrists held at arms length. Mary was the feistiest of the Bilboes team, and it pained me to see her now, her willowy body covered with striations and red marks from the last few days of captivity. The defiance had gone from her eyes and she offered no resistance as Ivana locked the end of her chain to a U-bracket on the floor in the corner. Her gaze met mine, the pain and sympathy there for me to see and be grateful for.
Next it was Monica, still wearing the iron yoke with her wrists secured half a metre each side of her neck. Her body language was a repeat of Mary’s. The resistance and spirit had been beaten out of her, and under the harsh light her perfectly proportioned body also showed the scars of her beatings. Neither Mary nor Monica said anything, perhaps waiting to take in what had been happening in the room. In all likelihood they would have heard our conversation.
Monica was also locked to a convenient U-bracket, sitting with her knees pulled up in order to rest some of the weight of the yoke on them.
“Well, children, let it be known that you will have this last night together before things get serious. Steven and Sofiya will be taking the easy way out. Regrettably, because of your meddling, the term for the other two goes up to four months. By which time you’ll have long been wishing for the same way out.” Warren stood up. “Perhaps I should look upon your appearance as a bonus, Steven. I get to see another of the meddling little Bilboes group taken care of in person, rather than relying on reports from others.”
Monica was the first to react.
“What do you mean?” I couldn’t miss the trepidation and fearful edge to her voice.
Warren looked at his watch.
“Right about now, my dear Monica, plans will be put into action which will result in the end of Bilboes, and all who live there.”
“What?” Monica’s whisper was barely audible. “What have you done, you bastard?”
Warren’s voice became hard.
“My dear Monica, you don’t think that I would be satisfied with simply getting rid of you, only to see the symbol of all that you’ve created continue to flourish in your absence? No, I’m afraid something serious has happened tonight. I don’t think there will be any survivors. Again, you’ll wish you had an easy out like Steven and Sofiya will receive tomorrow. But most of all, you’ll wish you’d never tangled with me. You’ve met your match finally Monica Armstrong. This is your Waterloo, my dear. Come, Ivana.”
Warren turned on his heel and Ivana followed, her last glance suggesting a longing to return to flogging Sofiya, but for the moment she evidently judged it an inopportune time. The front door slammed and we were left stunned, scared, staring at each other.
* * *
the story concludes in chapter twenty-three
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