Conspiracy 1

by Jezziebelle

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© Copyright 2005 - Jezziebelle - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; cons; X

An action packed bondage thriller with an eco-friendly theme…

Part One

Jenna awoke, not knowing what the noise had been but knowing she’d heard one. She switched on the bedside light, blinked blearily at the clock (3am) and debated whether or not to investigate.

Deciding against it, she flicked off the light and was about to close her eyes when the glow coming from under her bedroom door made her sit up straight in bed.

Someone had a light on in her flat.

She slept in a black cotton vest top and matching pyjama trousers, so didn’t need to grab her dressing gown as she opened the door and peered out into the corridor.

She knew she ought to feel frightened, and indeed her heart was racing a little, but if the burglar was dangerous surely he wouldn’t be sitting calmly at her computer desk with the light switched on, browsing through her files. She could see his back profile through the half-open door into the living room. As she watched, he ejected a floppy disk from the base unit and pressed keys until the screen went blank and the machine went eerily quiet.

Jenna knew immediately what he was after. Her article. And there was no way he was going to get it.

She marched on bare feet up the carpeted corridor and slammed open the door.

‘What the fuck are you doing in my flat?’ she shouted with genuine fury.

She was gratified to see he jumped, but by the time he turned to face her his expression was calm and infuriatingly superior. He put the floppy disk in his back pocket, and picked up his long, dark coat.

‘Well this is inconvenient,’ he said with a smile, pulling on his coat. ‘Don’t worry, I’m just leaving.’ 

Jenna stared in disbelief. As the intruder walked towards her to leave the flat, she stood loosely to give him the impression that she was going to let him walk out unaccosted, then let fly a spinning kick that connected soundly with the back of his head. She hadn’t learned a variety of martial arts for nothing. It was stock in trade for an investigative journalist these days.

It was the stranger’s turn to swear. ‘Jesus!’ he yelled, as he staggered forwards. Jenna was under his feet immediately, pulling them from under him as he struggled to regain his balance. Eyes blazing, sensing victory, she landed on top of him, searching for his arms under the long coat to twist one behind his back. But the next thing she knew was she was lying on her back on the floor, having done a 360 degree spin through the air. Apparently, he knew martial arts as well, and Jenna knew enough to recognise a real proficient. Sensing she was about to drown under his superior skill, she fought back anyway, but in seconds he had her pinned.

‘You,’ he said through clenched teeth, ‘are a real pain.’

Jenna fought in his grip, but got nowhere. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He pulled her arms up behind her back and took both her thumbs in one hand, incapacitating her with very little effort. Eyes watering from the pain, Jenna struggled to her feet as he pulled her upwards and then dragged her across the room, searching cupboards and drawers with his free hand.

‘I guess this will do,’ he muttered, withdrawing a fat roll of duct tape from the drawer where Jenna kept her few tools.

‘No way,’ said Jenna, but he kicked her feet from under her once again till she lay face down on the floor, duct tape being very swiftly wrapped around her wrists.

She fought him, of course, but it only resulted in tighter bonds. He strapped her arms together behind her back, both wrist and elbow (Jenna didn’t know her elbows could touch till then), and then did the same with her legs at ankle, knee and thigh. Then he bent her legs backwards, and hogtied her mercilessly.

Finally, he plastered several strips over her mouth and smiled down at her furious eyes.

‘I’ll leave the door open,’ he said, ‘so someone will find you tomorrow morning. You would have saved yourself a lot of bother if you’d just let me leave.’ And with that, he left, leaving only the impression of a tall handsome stranger in his wake.


Jenna thrashed against her bonds till she exhausted herself, but couldn’t budge the industrial strength tape. She was angry, humiliated, and… horny as hell, which made her even more angry and humiliated than before. She lay helplessly on the living room floor, trying to think, trying to ignore the wetness between her legs.

She knew who he was. She hadn’t met him before, but he could only be one person. Rob Fletcher, the young CEO of the company that formed the missing link of her story. She’d spent months investigating a tip-off she’d had that the regional elections were being rigged to cover up years of conspiracy that had left several people very rich and the local environment polluted beyond all legal limits.

The trail ran straight to Rob Fletcher’s door, and then disappeared. She didn’t know what his role was, or what his somewhat shady firm had to do with the conspiracy, but she was sure they were involved. Only that night, she’d typed up her thoughts onto her computer and now here he was, downloading his files.

She knew something of him, and had seen pictures. He was her age (29), and had got first class honours from Cambridge at the same time as she’d done the equivalent at Oxford. He’d immersed himself in banking as she’d begun her journalistic career, and after several very impressive years had disappeared to start his own firm. There were rumours, many of them, but none proven. He was devastatingly intelligent, financially successful, and better connected than a Freemason. Ever since her investigations had run across him, Jenna had seen him as a worthy opponent – perhaps even a nemesis. 

And he was so damn attractive, here she was hogtied with her own tape, her article stolen, her flat broken into, and all she could do was squeeze her thighs together in desperation and fantasise about him coming back to see to her properly…

She’d been tied up before, but nothing like this. The sensations from when she’d been loosely roped to the bedposts were a drop in the ocean compared to being forcibly hogtied and gagged by such an infuriating, drop dead gorgeous man. She’d never actually feared for her life. Somehow she knew she’d be safe – nothing in her research spoke of violence or real criminal intent. But still… the adrenaline from the fight mixed with her hormones into a potent cocktail, and she writhed and moaned from frustration as much as fury.


By morning, nothing remained but exhaustion, pain, and dull anger.

At 9.30am, Jenna’s neighbour came knocking, worried that her door had been open for so long. A kind but stupid man, obsessed with TV crime dramas, he exclaimed in surprise when he saw her and Jenna sank into a deep pit of embarrassment.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, edging into the room. Jenna swore loudly into the tape that sealed her mouth shut. Did it bloody look like she was OK?

Fetch the scissors, she tried to project telepathically, but he was on the phone to the police.

‘If you’re not hurt,’ he said when the police were on their way, ‘I won’t untie you. You know, they can find things out from the way victims are tied up. I don’t want to destroy the evidence.’

Jenna let her head drop onto the ground with a thump and closed her eyes, cursing CSI.

After that, a parade of people witnessed Jenna’s humiliation. Three police officers, two paramedics, and a second nosy neighbour who was on her way to work but stayed to make tea for everyone.

The detective in charge gave the CSI fan a sour look when he heard his story, and dug a penknife out of his pocket to free Jenna. Thanking him and rubbing stiff muscles, she glared at the others who were tittering in a corner, and staggered straight towards her computer.

The whole hard drive had been wiped. All her notes, all her research, everything.

After the detective had calmed her down with talk of arresting her for destroying her own property (for she’d set about the room smashing everything in sight, her fury at her loss was so strong), she sat down and answered their questions.

No, nothing had been stolen apart from computer files. No, she wasn’t hurt. No, he hadn’t sexually abused her (though it might have been nice). No, she didn’t know who he was (there was no way she was losing her scoop by telling them).

Not particularly impressed, they left with half hearted promises of looking into it.

Jenna didn’t care. She would be looking into it herself. He was not going to get away with it.


Two nights later, wearing a thin black rollneck jumper and black trousers, Jenna slipped on soft-soled shoes past the security guard’s hut and ran across the car park to the fire exit.

It was almost too easy. If he was a worthy opponent after all, surely he would have made it harder: all she’d had to do was look up the building’s plans in the local council offices, lure the guard away by setting off a firework further along the fence, and re-route the fire door alarm with a very simple device. She clipped it into place now, and prised the door open. No alarms sounded.

She knew he’d be working late. She’d had a friend call his office half an hour ago, to check he was still there. She located his office after a few wrong turns down dimly lit corridors, and strode inside without knocking.

Rob looked up from his papers to see Jenna pointing a gleaming gun in his direction. She stood rock steady in the middle of his office, dressed for breaking and entering, her dark wavy hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She held the gun at her hip.

‘Good evening,’ he said eventually, pushing back his chair. ‘In my best James Bond villain voice, I’ve been expecting you.’ He grinned softly, and Jenna’s loins stirred once again. She found him so attractive she could have wept… but, still angry and fired by a cold passion for her work, she steeled herself. He was not going to beat her, and he was certainly not going to win her.

‘I want my article back,’ she murmured, raising the gun to point at his chest. ‘Now.’

Damn, she looked sexy wielding that weapon with a wicked glint in her eye… Rob sat still, allowing himself a luxurious sweep of her body with his eyes. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d met her, but the ass-kicking dervish with flowing hair and breasts he was dying to grasp in each hand had certainly been a pleasant surprise. By the time he’d finished taping her up, he was well and truly aroused. It was all he could do to leave without fucking her, but he honestly wasn’t one for rape.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said slowly. ‘I can’t do that. It would cause… problems.’

Jenna gave him a cynical smile. ‘You mean your little scam to keep Councillor Jones in office would be blown sky high.’

‘Jenna, Jenna, Jenna,’ he said, ‘there’s more to this than you know or understand. Trust me.’

What the hell did that mean? Jenna didn’t pause to think about it, but she knew patronising when she heard it. She would not be treated like a fool. She swung the gun towards his computer monitor, and fired, returning it instantly to her previous target. The silencer dampened the sound, but the monitor fizzed and crackled alarmingly.

Rob raised his eyebrows, and simply said ‘Now’ to a point over her left shoulder.

Too late, Jenna started to swing round, but the heavy set man behind her had landed a chopping hand motion on her right shoulder and the gun fell to the floor, her arm dead and burning with pain.

‘Meet Paul,’ said Rob as Jenna cradled her arm and swore softly. Paul had picked up her gun and stuck it into the back of his waistband, and was looking at her without emotion. He wore a leather jacket and looked like a tree trunk that had been in one too many fights.

‘Paul, I’d like to keep an eye on her but I don’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the night. Could you sort it out?’

When the pain in her shoulder had subsided enough for her to pay attention again, Jenna discovered that Paul was pushing her down onto a hard, straight backed wooden chair he’d placed in the middle of the floor. She tried to stand up, but his raised hand told her he wouldn’t flinch from beating a girl till she behaved, so she sat down again.

Rob had returned to studying his papers, and wasn’t paying attention as Paul pulled Jenna’s arms together behind her back and proceeded to bind them with rope.

‘Hey!’ she shouted, but Rob was ignoring them and Paul was not to be argued with.. He wound several loops round her wrists and cinched them tightly with a knot. He worked swiftly, roughly and with immense success. Her elbows were soon treated to the same, making her bruised shoulder cry out in pain. Paul then tied her bound arms to the wooden frame of the back of the chair so she had to sit up straight. Not content with that, he wound the rope round and round her torso, tying her bodily to the chair, above and below her breasts that now pushed out from between the loops of rope.

Jenna gave a few dispirited tugs at the ropes, but there was no hope. 

Paul knelt in front of her, placing her legs against the front two legs of the chair and binding them securely into place. A couple of windings round her thighs and the seat of the chair completed the job. A smile of satisfaction flickered on his face for an instant, and was gone.

‘Let me go,’ cried Jenna again, pulling with all her might against her bonds but getting nowhere. ‘Hey! Rob! I’m talking to you.’

Rob, not looking in her direction at all, merely nodded his head towards Paul. Before she could clamp her mouth shut, a large balled-up handkerchief had been pushed inside, and a second one used to tie it in place. 

Paul left, closing the door behind him.

Jenna shouted into the gag for a long time, but Rob chose not to hear her. Under the glow of his desk lamp, he worked steadily next to his ruined monitor. Jenna had no choice but to sit silently, motionless, in the middle of his office, and wait.

As the minutes and hours ticked past, Jenna sank ever deeper into a hazy state of arousal. To be sitting here, bound hand and foot to a chair, while he soundly ignored her… every time she twitched a muscle, she felt the resistance of the ropes and a thrill shivered through her. Anger at his theft of her article and fury at how he was managing to make her horny just by being so damn superior vied for attention with the fire that now burned inside her.

More than three hours after she’d been bound by the henchman, Jenna opened her eyes and saw Rob standing in front of her. Sweat glistened on her brow. Following his gaze, she saw that the wooden seat between her legs was damp with her own juices and her nipples stood out through the thin material of her jumper. He caught her gaze, smiled gently, and turned back to his desk. Jenna moaned softly, and let her head fall back down. Don’t be beaten, she kept telling herself, but it was so hard…

At 4.30am, Rob switched off his lamp and the first glow of dawn came through the office window. He stood up, stretched, and picked up his coat.

As the door closed and locked behind him, Jenna’s exhausted body finally tipped over into orgasm and she shook in her bonds for several long minutes, before drifting into a restless sleep.


Jenna thought she remembered a pin prick in her arm, which must have been an anaesthetic of some kind, because now she awoke in her own bed, dressed in her pyjamas, with her alarm going off beside her head.

She stretched out an arm to silence it, and quickly turned on the radio, praying her head would clear quickly. It was Friday morning. She’d gone to Rob’s office on Wednesday night. She’d missed a whole day.

Frightened and spaced out by turns, she climbed out of bed and staggered to the kitchen for a glass of water. On her return to her bedroom, she saw the local morning paper had been delivered.

The banner headline read ‘POLL SHOWS JONES AHEAD BY TEN POINTS’.

Jenna scanned the story briefly, picking up the salient points. Councillor Jones was the man she believed was coordinating a election rigging conspiracy to get himself re-elected and thus not have anyone find out about his embezzlement and countenancing of illegal chemical dumping in a nearby river. Apparently, his election campaign was unstoppable, said the paper.. He was bound to win the election in two weeks’ time. If only she could have printed her story…

Deeply depressed, Jenna went to the bathroom, turned on the shower and stripped off her pyjamas.

On her body, in dark, heavy black letters, were five words: one on each breast, one on her stomach, and one on each inner thigh. The shock made her dizzy for a moment, and she grabbed the basin to steady herself, trying to read the words upside down.


Damn Rob Fletcher! The man had abused her body… for a fearful second, she wondered if he might have raped her, but after a brief examination she decided that he hadn’t – also, she realised, she didn’t believe he ever would. She didn’t know why, but she trusted him that far.

Standing in a scalding hot shower, Jenna scrubbed at the letters but they wouldn’t come off. He’d used a fat permanent marker that would take weeks of washing before they faded.

She dressed in a high neck, opaque top and swore revenge, no matter what it took. Ignoring the vibrations in her body that tempted her to slide back into bed and slip her fingers between her legs, she picked up her keys and headed for the town library.


Rob Fletcher’s company was having a party in a week’s time – a client schmoozing event, with free drinks and nibbles. Rob wasn’t due to be there. He was out of the country, according to Jenna’s contacts, so she put on a long, red silk dress, did her hair and went to the ball.

She’d managed to reconstruct a lot of her research over the past week, and had discovered one new lead. All she needed to do know was check the files in Rob’s office. If she could find proof of correspondence between Rob and the Councillor’s election team, she’d nailed them. It was the final piece of proof she needed to support her theories.

An hour into the drinks and nibbles, Jenna excused herself from an amiable couple she’d been chatting to and slipped past the guest toilet and into forbidden territory.

She found Rob’s office again with ease. With practised hands, she opened every filing cabinet and leafed through the contents. Nothing… nothing… nothing… and then there it was. Not the letter she’d been hoping for, but something just as good. A copy of a letter from Rob to the company that was dumping chemicals in the river, mentioning Councillor Jones’s name. She didn’t have time to read it properly, so folded it up and slipped it inside her dress.

It was then that she heard noises outside. Freezing, she recognised Rob’s voice, and panicked. There was no time to tidy up to make it look like she hadn’t been here. There was nothing for it but to run. She fled the office through a second door behind Rob’s desk.

She had no idea where she was going, but she had to keep running. Her high heels clattered on the floor as she ran down a corridor, flinching when she heard shouts behind her. She pushed through a fire escape door, and found herself running across a courtyard with floodlights that came on as she ran. Desperate for cover, she plunged through the first door she could see, and found herself in a large, warehouse type room filled with apparatus.

She had to calm down, and think. Proceeding cautiously into the room, she sought a hiding place where she could think of a plan.

She almost leapt out of her skin when a loud crackling noise filled the room, and a voice came over the tannoy.

‘I see you are back to cause more trouble,’ said Rob’s disembodied voice. ‘There’s nowhere you can hide.’

It was only a couple of minutes before they found her. Paul tracked her down first, and twisted her arm behind her, marching her into the centre of the room to where Rob was waiting.

Rob dismissed Paul, and stood admiring the woman with tousled hair and a sulky face standing in evening dress before him.

‘I’ll take that,’ he said, reaching swiftly inside her bodice and pulling out the crumpled piece of paper, which he pocketed.

Then he grinned wickedly, and took Jenna by the arm.


She was naked, wearing nothing but her high heels. Her ankles, knees and thighs were strapped together with wide cable ties. This room they were in was some kind of packing and distribution centre, so there were plenty of such things around.

Rob bent her over a metal frame that was hip high, so that her stomach, chest and head lay across the top and her legs pressed against the side. He strapped her legs to the frame with more cable ties, the final one pressing right up beneath her bottom. Her toes in their high heeled shoes pointed downwards.

Wrapping a cable tie around her wrists, he pulled them above her head and towards the far side of the frame, securing them in position so she was stretched across the top. More cable ties held her torso firmly against the cold metal frame, which was in the form of a cube with many struts along each side and within it. She had no idea what it was for other than being convenient for attached naked women to. Her breasts hung downwards. Rob bent over her, reaching forwards to encircle each one with a narrow cable tie and pull it tight till they swelled up, red and round. Her head rested on one of the struts of the frame. The muscles in the backs of her legs and in her arms were beginning to ache from the strain of the position.

Rob began to caress her bottom, which stuck up proudly. He spanked her, once, twice and then three times, and watched her twist and moan. He slipped a finger between her thighs and into her hot, wet pussy, and she cried out. He spanked her again, and she quivered in her bonds.

‘Fuck me,’ she whispered. Fuck her story. All she could think of was taking him inside her. She was bound in position for the reaming of a lifetime, naked and sprawled across some kind of industrial object, caught red handed with the stolen goods in her bra. Oh please, she needed release, and not from her bonds… Every time he spanked her, or slipped a finger inside her made her hotter. Now, he pushed a wet finger against the puckered hole between the cheeks of her bottom, which was raised to the sky.

‘Please,’ she pleaded.

Rob wanted to take her more than anything. As he teased her with one hand, he’d taken his cock in the other, but he restrained himself from plunging it into her. He’d had a better idea. To have his captive, his rival, his nemesis begging for sex for good enough. But there was more. He zipped up his trousers.

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he murmured, pushing her discarded knickers into her mouth and gagging her with her stockings. ‘But don’t worry. You’ll soon get what you want.’

He piled her remaining clothes into a box, and closed it.

‘After all, we have a whole party full of men and women next door…’

Continues in Part Two

28.07.05 updated 01.06.06

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