story continues from part 6
Hazel shielded her eyes against the wind and gazed out to sea. Despite the wintry sunlight, the wave-lashed Dorset coast, from high above on the cliffs, cut a depressing sight at this time of year. Away to the left, the headland of Hengistbury Head seemed to stand out defiantly and resolutely against the perpetual wrath of the breakers. And closer to her vantage point, the twin fingers of Boscombe pier and, almost directly below her, Bournemouth pier, stretched like clawing fingers out into the choppy grey waters of the English Channel. The beach and promenade, so crowded with bustling holidaymakers during the summer months, was virtually deserted now, with just the occasional jogger, dog walker or fresh air enthusiast braving the near Arctic temperatures. But that suited Hazel fine just now.
Hazel pulled the scarf across her face. This was not only to keep out the biting wind, but also because she was conscious that her photo had been circulated in the newspapers, and at any moment she might be recognised by some passerby; not that those who did brave the elements today were taking much notice of her, swaddled as they were in hats, scarves and upturned collars. To disguise herself, she’d already dyed her naturally jet black hair, so that the image she now portrayed to the world was that of a platinum blonde. Her attire, beneath the long leather coat she wore, still attested to her love of tight, latex clothing however. Not that she hadn’t tried to blend into the crowd by wearing more ‘normal’ clothes, but the fact was that in nondescript, everyday garb, she felt like a fish out of water, and far more self-conscious – and therefore much more suspicious looking, she assumed – than in her natural, skin-tight array.
Hazel had been on the run now for eight days, since absconding from the high security establishment which was her proposed place of confinement for the next five years. Her first inclination, once she and her fellow escapees had split up, was to head back to Suffolk and wreak her revenge on the people who had not only humiliated her by leaving her tied up for two whole days, but had then alerted the authorities to her recent activities. But then she’d thought again. For surely that was what the police would expect her to do. Another option was to flee abroad. But with the ports and airports presumably on alert, she had decided that now was not the time for flight. So instead she’d made contact with a wealthy underworld associate living on the south coast, who was more than happy to have her lie low at his exclusive luxury apartment in Sandbanks, no more than a few miles to the west from where she now stood.
Hazel looked out to sea and contemplated her next move. She’d been quite content to stay holed up in Dorset for a month or two… that is until this morning. For this was when the text message had come through which dramatically altered her thinking. Sent on a newly acquired phone that very few people were aware of, the message had been from one of the few people she knew she could trust; an acquaintance who she had dealt with many times in a business capacity in the past, and who knew all the details of the incidents that had led to her conviction and subsequent incarceration. The message was short and to the point:
Been contacted by your old adversary Amber de Sade.
Says she needs to speak to you urgently.
Has info that she says will be beneficial to you both.
Hazel viewed the message again, as if multiple readings might somehow divulge hidden meaning within those few words. It was probable that her contact knew very little more than she did at the moment regarding Amber’s intentions, but she knew that until she rang that number to find out, she would be unable to rest easy.
Hazel strolled back down the hill towards the seafront. There she found a sheltered corner to get out of the swirling icy blast of the wind, before tapping in the number on which the text had been sent. Within two rings, the easily identifiable sound of her friend’s voice was heard.
The conversation was, of necessity, one of short duration; Hazel being wary of the possibility that her contact’s phone might be tapped and of her call being traced. She soon ascertained that she’d been right; that he was merely a go-between passing on a message, and had no inkling of what Hazel’s traditional rival would want to discuss that was so pressing. He did, however, pass on the details of how to get in touch with her old foe, both by phone and email.
Upon hanging up, Hazel walked in a westerly direction along the promenade, deep in thought. She remained extremely wary of Amber’s motives, but also intrigued by this totally unexpected turn of events. Was it a trap? It seemed unlikely that Amber would be in league with the police, as many of her activities also bordered on the illegal. Or was this her hated enemy trying to get her own back independently, for tying her up and planning to sell her into slavery? No, she didn’t believe Amber had the stomach, or indeed the means, for anything of that nature.
So, what if this was a genuine attempt by her rival to make contact and discuss a mutually advantageous deal of some description? Surely it couldn’t hurt to at least get in touch to find out, could it? Hazel stopped by a boarded up and deserted ice cream kiosk, and stared at the number she’d written down on the scrap of paper. Suddenly, she decided that stalling a moment longer was simply a waste of valuable time. Discarding all fears and trepidation, she decided to go for it. Quickly, she retrieved her phone once more and punched in the number. It took a few seconds, but after several rings, the unmistakable voice that Hazel had detested for many a long year kicked in.
Hazel waited two or three seconds, both for effect and to ensure she sounded calm and in control. Finally she spoke.
“Hello Mistress de Sade. I’m sure you know who this is. Rumour has it that you’ve got something you wish to discuss with me. So what’s on your mind?”
Contrary to her fears, Lauren found that she and her fellow inmates didn’t have to stay in their extreme postures overnight. Although the time dragged and the excruciating aching in her arms seemed interminable, it was still daylight when Amber once more removed the hoods of her three duped victims. For even Amber must have had enough common sense – or could it even have been compassion? - to know that keeping someone’s limbs in such relentlessly severe restraints for long periods of time could have very serious repercussions in relation to circulation, not to mention joint and muscle function.
Or maybe it wasn’t that which caused her to act out of character. Perhaps the only thing Amber was interested in was ensuring that she got the best price for Jasmine and Jade on the slave market. After all, ‘damaged goods’ are not really a great selling point, are they? And as for Lauren, well she was to obtain some small insight into Amber’s way of thinking when, after letting first Jade, then Jasmine out of their suspension bondage and marching them, still trussed and tethered, out of the room and taking them to… well, who knows where?, she bent down and whispered to the still lotus-tied damsel as she removed her leather hood.
“Now darling, let’s get you out of those ropes and into something a bit more comfortable. After all, I could never forgive myself if any lasting damage occurred due to my negligence and stupidity.”
Seconds later, Lauren felt the pressure on her arms and shoulders begin to ease, as Amber worked the winch that held her in place downwards. As this merciful release continued, Lauren felt herself topple forward, and without her hands to protect herself, she feared that her head and the floor were in for a nasty collision. Luckily for her however, Amber foresaw this eventuality and was quickly on hand to help ease her captive onto the hard concrete. Still with her hands bound behind her, and her now numb lower limbs still roped in secure, cross-legged fashion, Lauren was allowed a few seconds to rest on the cold floor, breathing heavily into her gag and trying to exercise, as best she could, her now slightly less restricted arms and hands, in order to get some of the feeling back into them. Before long however, her captor’s hands were once more upon her, as they began to untie the stringently knotted cords that held her legs. Amber had just released the right foot from its moorings against the left thigh, however, when the sound of a muffled ringtone filled the air.
Immediately abandoning the task of getting Lauren onto her feet, Amber walked across the room to where her holdall bag sat by the door. Reaching in, the ringing became louder as she retrieved the phone from its hiding place. For a split second, the tall blonde in her skin-tight latex outfit stared at the glowing display and frowned, as if trying to gauge whether this was a call worth taking at the moment, or whether getting Lauren into her next state of bondage should take precedence. It didn’t take her long to decide on the former.
The following conversation was, from Lauren’s perspective, one sided, as the caller’s voice was no more than an extremely faint babbling sound barely recognisable as human speech. But Amber’s next remark, enunciated in a tone that oozed both extreme sarcasm and bitter malevolence, informed her that the Mistress hadn’t been lying earlier about her plans to draw her hated opponent into the trap she had been preparing. And it was clear that the subject Hazel had called to discuss was the transaction which, she was under the illusion, would see both Lauren and the twins being sold to her and then transported to far flung corners of the globe.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Lady Hazel Paine. It’s so nice to hear your voice again. I knew that you’d be intrigued by my message…. Yes I do have a business proposal to put to you that I think you may find of some interest.”
For a minute or more, the two dominatrices sparred verbally, leaving the listening Lauren in no doubt as to the level of hatred between them. After a while, however, seemingly tiring of the stream of abuse being hurled at her, and keen to get down to the crux of the matter, Amber began to lay out the background details of affairs as they stood at the present moment; how she’d managed to con the twins into kidnapping Lauren; how she’d had to subdue the dissenting Jade; how she’d duped Jasmine into thinking they were equal partners etc. She then went on to outline her plans for how both she and Hazel could profit from these circumstances; how she’d be prepared to pass the trio on to her former rival for an agreed fee, so that Hazel could then sell them on at a profit and thus acquire the capital needed to escape to foreign climes. Amber’s unbroken monologue suggested that her caller had been listening in silence for several minutes. But once Amber’s proposal reached its conclusion, Hazel began grilling her prospective business partner on the finer details. Many of Amber’s comments and retorts meant that the gist of the words uttered by Hazel could be easily guessed at. It was clear that the latter was not entirely convinced of Amber’s sincerity.
“Yes I know it could be a trap, but you’ll have to take my word for the fact that it isn’t…”
“…Look Hazel, I’m giving you a chance to get revenge on the couple who left you – all of us in fact – tied up and trapped for two whole days…”
“…I know you don’t trust me, and to be honest I don’t trust you further than I could throw you, but this could be to our mutual benefit…”
“…Well just for once perhaps we should put our animosity towards each other to one side…”
“….Come on, I know you must want to get out of the country as soon as possible, and I’m sure you’ll be needing as much money as you can get your hands on….”
“…Oh I’m sure you have contacts who’ll lend you a bit of cash if they think they’ll be getting their money back again with interest…”
“…So it’s a win/win situation as far as I’m concerned. The sooner you realise that, the sooner we can get this deal agreed, and the sooner we can go our separate ways; our paths never to cross again… hopefully.”
All this time, Amber had been prowling the room nervously, never once glancing at her prisoner. But suddenly, her pacing ceased and her next utterance left no doubt as to the nature of Hazel’s latest challenge to the viability of this whole venture, for the simple reason that Amber echoed her rival’s words, but with an incredulity in her voice that surely wasn’t there in the original.
“You don’t believe that I’ve really got Lauren and those stupid cousins of mine in custody? I had a feeling you might say that, which is why I had the foresight to obtain photographic evidence of their unenviable state. I can easily send you these as proof.”
Hazel obviously put forth the opposing view that pictures proved nothing, but Amber had her counter-argument already prepared. As she delivered this, her eyes turned in Lauren’s direction and she flashed her most devilish smile at the cowering and still helpless woman.
“Well, funnily enough, I have your friend Lauren here with me right now. How would you like to hear some proof directly from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear from you again after all this time.”
Amber strolled at a leisurely pace to where Lauren sat and crouched down on her haunches. Holding the phone out to within an inch of the grey tape that sealed her hostage’s lips, she whispered.
“I’ve got someone here that’s just dying to speak to you darling, and would dearly love to get reacquainted with you in the near future. Say hello now, there’s a good girl.”
To say that Lauren was in a quandary would be an understatement. Should she try to warn Hazel - the person she probably feared most in the whole world – that by trusting Amber she would be walking into a trap? Or should she play along, in the hope that Amber’s scheme worked, and resulted in Hazel once more being handed over to the police and locked up for the foreseeable future? But if she took the latter course of action, what if the plan went wrong and she did end up in Hazel’s clutches once more? Was that a worse scenario than being Amber’s bondage toy forevermore? And which option was most likely to benefit the twins? She had to make a decision, and she had to make it quickly.
“Come on sweetie, do speak up now. We can’t keep Hazel waiting all day.”
Despite Amber’s latest entreaty being gentle in tone and softly spoken, Lauren detected an undercurrent of malice in her words, and realised that this was an order, not a request.
Still unsure of the most utilitarian course of action to take, Lauren simply screamed as loudly as the tights in her mouth and the tape sealant would allow, not attempting to convey any particular message, but letting the listening woman make up her own mind as to whether this was a genuine cry of anguish, or a ploy to dupe her. As her outburst echoed around the old prison, she heard, faintly but recognisable enough for the sound to send her into convulsions of fear, a voice she hoped that she would never have to hear again.
“Hello Lauren. Remember me? I’d recognise that pathetic scream anywhere. It will be such a pleasure to see you again.”
It seemed that this muffled outburst from Lauren was the clincher in sealing the deal, although, as she sat in impotence listening to the conclusion of the conversation, the tied and terrified female instinctively knew that something didn’t add up here. Lauren smelled a rat and was sure that Hazel – as was her very nature – had something underhand planned, which would undoubtedly involve Amber being conned… or probably even worse.
Amber, however, as she ended the call, seemed more than pleased with her day’s work. Kneeling down beside her prisoner, she began to untie Lauren’s other foot; her hands gently stroking the tight spandex of her prisoner’s leg-wear in the region of her thigh as she did so.
“Well done darling, it looks like Hazel was convinced by your performance and has taken the bait hook, line and sinker. She’s going to make her way back to Suffolk tomorrow, so things are really starting to speed up now. Soon everything will fall into place and we’ll be rid of her – and the twins – forever. Then the fun can really start for you and me.”
With her legs now free from their strict bonds, Lauren found herself being pulled up onto her feet; the stiffness and ‘pins and needles’ causing her to wobble and almost immediately fall back to the floor. Amber was on hand to prop her up however, and as the feeling began to once more return to her calves, ankles and feet, Lauren found herself being navigated out of the room in which she’d spent the last few hours, and marched along a rattling metal walkway, down some stairs, along a maze of nondescript corridors and into another, smaller cell.
Unlike the cells she’d had the dubious pleasure of inhabiting previously, this one was windowless and in darkness as Amber prompted her less than willing captive to cross the threshold. It was clear that her arrival here had been pre-planned, however, as the turning on of two already strategically positioned torches revealed various pieces of equipment to hand, just waiting to be utilised. But it wasn’t these items that immediately grabbed Lauren’s attention, but rather the nature of the room itself. For it was apparent, even in the less than perfect lighting conditions, that the walls, floor and even the ceiling of this chamber had been clad with what looked like thick foam padding. Bouncy underfoot, every surface was divided up into small segments approximately one foot square, at the intersections of which protruded large buttons that held that particular portion of the whole vista in place. Lauren gazed in fascination at a scene she’d only seen on television, usually in a psychiatric hospital setting. Her thoughts were brought back to her current plight by Amber’s voice.
“This used to be the place where unruly and violent prisoners would be locked up, as much for their own safety as for that of the staff and other inmates. But now, rather than a place of punishment, I’ve turned it into a reward centre. As you’ve been such a good girl and played your part in getting Hazel to agree to my plans, I’ve decided that you can spend the night in here, rather than have to lie on a hard stone floor as the twins will be doing. I’ve got another little treat for you as well. Sit down on the floor in the middle of the room and I’ll get everything ready for you.”
As if in a trance, Lauren obeyed this order without any cajoling needed by her captor, and within seconds Amber had her legs bound together in the conventional, side by side manner at various intervals from ankle to thigh. This much Lauren expected. But the next few minutes were something that she could never have foreseen in her wildest dreams or worst nightmares. Watching with wide eyes, Lauren saw Amber pick up what looked like a transparent sack and unfurl it to its full length. There was no doubt in Lauren’s mind that the intended inmate of this strange device was to be herself, although at first she had no idea of the properties that made this piece of bondage equipment anything more than a simple sheath that she was going to be incarcerated in, perhaps with attendant straps to hold it in place. It was left to Amber, therefore, both by her words and her subsequent actions, to correct this erroneous notion and enlighten Lauren as to its true nature.
“The conventional attire for a padded cell would have been a straitjacket, but I’ve decided to forego tradition and let you spend the night in real luxury bondage. This sheath that I’m going to cocoon you in all nice and tightly, is my latest bondage gadget. Jade has already ‘road-tested’ it for me to make sure it works efficiently, and I can assure you that the results were outstanding. Don’t worry though, I’ve cleaned it of all the sweat and - well let’s just call them ‘other bodily fluids’, shall we? - so that it’s in pristine condition again, and all ready to wrap you up snugly so you won’t get cold during the night.”
Inserting Lauren’s spandex clad legs into the opening, Amber wasted no time in encasing the bewildered detainee completely in the see-through flexible scabbard. Even though she was fully aware that resistance was futile, and was fairly certain, given her earlier show of affection, that Amber meant her no harm, Lauren wriggled slightly and let out a whimper of dread as the casing tightened around her head and the zipper confirmed her complete encasement. Her fear eased somewhat with the insertion of the two thin tubes into her nostrils, and the thought came to her that this might be the full extent of her woes for the evening. She should have known better of course, and was soon to be proved wrong on this count.
The less than perfect lighting conditions, the slightly blurring nature of her facial covering, plus the fact that Amber briefly turned her back and attended to some unseen apparatus, all conspired to ensure that, when it commenced, Lauren was less than prepared for the next stage in the exercise to immobilise her. So when Amber once again turned to face her supine prisoner and placed her hand in the region of her abdomen, Lauren assumed that this was going to be another instance of Amber caressing her inappropriately. With the loud droning sound that accompanied the turning on of the suction device, however, Lauren suddenly felt the PVC – already taut in its proximity to her body – contract from seemingly every direction, so that the impression that she was being squashed, or even crushed, overcame her. And this sensation only worsened as the seconds rolled by, squeezing and compressing every inch of her body, until she felt as if she was about to implode. For what seemed like minutes, the pressure mounted, until Lauren felt that she could take no more. Then suddenly there was silence, and the feeling of constriction, whilst not easing in any way, ceased to get any worse.
“There you go darling. Isn’t that nice and cosy? I’m sure that you’ll be very comfortable here tonight, what with the hugging nature of your packaging and the nice soft environment all around you, which will keep you all safe and sound until tomorrow morning. Goodnight Lauren. Sweet dreams.”
Gathering the torches up in her arms, along with the vacuum cleaner, Amber headed for the door, and within seconds Lauren was plunged into total blackness. The sound of the door slamming and a key turning in the lock were the last things she heard; the clicking of Amber’s retreating footsteps being swallowed up into silence by the dense padding of her prison cell.
Lauren tried to roll over onto her stomach in order to relieve the pressure on her arms, which were still bound from the elbows downwards. This manoeuvre took several attempts and a number of minutes to achieve, but any sense of triumph as she finally flopped over onto her stomach was short-lived. For it now became apparent that the plush nature of the flooring meant that she sank down to a depth of an inch or more, and the fact that she was now face down brought with it the knowledge that she would be unable to breathe unless she twisted her neck around to an extreme degree on either side. Getting herself back into her original position was as difficult, if not more so, than her initial task, and she strained and struggled for what seemed like minute after minute to right herself. The cause of her inability to change position without immense effort was, of course, the extreme air-tight constriction in which she found herself.
With every inch of her being feeling as if it was being pressed inwards with a force so strong that it threatened to overwhelm her, Lauren found movement of any description both painful and exhausting. Yet she was resigned to the fact that these were the circumstances which she would have to endure for the whole night, with very little to take her mind off a situation that was both desperate and hopeless. And the thought of meeting with Hazel again was the final piece of a very unpleasant jigsaw that sent convulsions of terror through her severely compacted body. Even the crotch rope, still in place, was beyond the grasp of her immobilised, fingers, and therefore no longer a source of respite from the tedium of a long, lonely night to come.
Despite the futility of trying to attract attention to her plight, Lauren found herself loudly beseeching Steve to come to her rescue, although she knew that the chances of her lover - or indeed anyone willing to come to her aid - heeding her stifled pleas, were less than zero. The thought of her man, still presumably oblivious to her plight, brought it home to her how bondage could be both her number one passion, as well as her most dreaded nightmare.
Another time, under different circumstances, she would probably have welcomed the all-embracing, tourniquet- style stricture of her current conditions. With Steve, every bondage session was a delight, as she could luxuriate safe in the knowledge that, although totally helpless, she was in the hands of someone who loved her and would never let anything untoward happen to her. This current situation, however, was the antithesis of everything she adored about being trussed up. For right now, although she was as helpless as when Steve tied her up, there was no attendant feeling of well-being or contentment to keep her company, but instead sheer terror at the notion that there was no light at the end of a very long tunnel. Indeed, the insight came to her that this was something which, whatever the outcome of Hazel and Amber’s summit meeting, she was never going to get out of unscathed.
Would Amber triumph and keep her as a sex slave for all time, as she’d hinted was her desire? Or would Hazel turn the tables on Amber and take her revenge on one of the people she considered the original catalyst in a long and winding route which had eventually led to her current status as a fugitive from justice? Either way, Lauren’s future looked bleak in the extreme.
Hazel sat back in her seat and took a sip of wine. The images that Amber had emailed through to her certainly suggested that Lauren and the twins were under her control at present, although she still couldn’t be sure that this wasn’t some kind of elaborate set-up. Not that this worried the now prison-hardened woman one iota. No sooner had Amber informed her of the nature of the business transaction she had in mind, than Hazel’s brain was concocting a rather different scenario to that being put to her, which would result in an entirely different outcome. For Hazel had quickly seen the potential for profiting from this whole venture, not only monetarily, but from a vengeance standpoint also.
Although she was alone in the luxury apartment that had become a sanctuary from the authorities since her breakout, she found herself laughing out loud. How could Amber be so stupid as to suggest that the two of them – the oldest and deadliest of enemies – should team up like this? Hazel looked again at the photos, particular those of Lauren in her bound up finery. She would dearly love to teach that girl a lesson - and that bastard boyfriend of hers – for leaving her tied up for forty eight hours, then grassing her up to the police. Hazel conjured up some of the tortures she would like to inflict on Lauren, and these thoughts made her shiver with excitement. And then, selling her on to some wealthy pervert several thousand miles away would go a long way financially to helping her forge a new life, with a fresh identity, in some other part of the world. And if the twins were also thrown into the deal too, then all the better.
But of course, Hazel had no intention of paying Amber to take these three submissive little darlings off her hands. No, as soon as she heard of her rival’s proposal, Hazel’s mind began counter-scheming, looking for ways that she could turn the situation to her advantage… and hers alone. Of course she would go along with Amber’s plans, while it suited her. But then, when it came to handing over money for the threesome, her intentions most definitely diverged from those being put to her. For why pay good money for three slaves, when you can have four… and all for nothing? Hazel was convinced that she could easily overpower Amber and have her all trussed up along with the others without even breaking sweat.
Hazel had been careful to appear wary of the arrangements being put to her over the phone; making out that she feared a trap. This was all just an act of course. In reality she was merely going through the motions, so as not to appear too keen to accept, which would have probably made Amber suspicious of her motives. And that dumb bitch had fallen for it! How could anyone be so gullible? And then, to cap it all, when Amber had put the obviously gagged woman on the line, Hazel had made out that she could identify Lauren from those muffled squeals alone! Which was totally ridiculous! In truth, all she’d heard was an indistinct shriek that could have been absolutely anyone. Yet Amber must have been so desperate to draw her rival into this web of lies, that she’d been taken in by the ludicrous notion that Hazel could recognise this as the outpourings of the one particular female that she wished to get even with.
Hazel quickly typed a reply to Amber’s email, confirming that the deal was definitely on, and that she’d be making her way back to Suffolk first thing tomorrow morning. When she arrived, she informed her rival, she’d ring and set up a meeting. Pressing the ‘Send’ button, Hazel shut the lid down on the laptop and gazed out of the window at the scene over Poole Harbour in all its winter glory. She was confident that, whatever surprises Amber had up her sleeve, she would be more than capable of countering anything thrown at her, and end up triumphant, with four slaves to sell to the highest bidder. She poured herself another glass of Merlot and relaxed; a smug, almost arrogant, smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Things had, she contentedly pondered, come full circle.
Story continued in part eight