Darcy's Ghost

by Findar

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2020 - Findar - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF+/f; bond; rope; gag; collar; hobble; armbinder; dungeon; maid; susp; whip; predicament; cage; nc; XX

Continues from

Part 3: Down the Rabbit Hole

Alexis wanted to scream. But the horrible gag she wore wouldn’t even allow her that small luxury. She whimpered as the darkness of the trunk closed in on her. Strange distant voices spoke to her out of nowhere, adding to her terror.

There was a heavy thump. It felt to Alexis as if someone had just dropped the trunk. Could Paige and Betty have moved the trunk from the basement? It didn’t seem likely. But at least the strange whispering voices had stopped.

Alexis listened; there was only the sound of her own labored breathing. Between the tight corset, the hobble skirt and the gag she felt like she was being suffocated. The curled position of her body in the trunk did little to help. She needed to get out, to get some air.

Ideally she would have used her shoulders to push against the trunk lid. But the rigid posture collar prevented her from moving her head. She would have to hit the back of her head on the lid to raise it. But after two sharp blows with the back of her head she gave up that idea. She would knock herself out before she opened the trunk.

Instead Alexis tried sliding down until she was on her back. Her arms, trapped in the armbinder screamed in protest as she put her weight on them. The hobble skirt resisted her efforts as she bent her knees. Her legs felt as if they were caught in a vise.

She was sweating by the time she got her legs above her. Straightening her knees she was able to give the lid a solid kick. Each kick jammed her toes into the end of the ballet shoes, but what choice did she have?

Alexis didn’t know how long she struggled against the obstinate lid. Her arms had long since gone numb and her feet throbbed. If she hadn’t taken the time to rest she might have missed the faint voice that said, “Hello, what’s this?”

Suddenly the trunk lid was thrown back. Alexis looked up to see an attractive dark haired woman looking at her curiously. “Well this is unusual,” the stranger said. “What kind of game are you playing here?”

Alexis mumbled into her gag. She tried to shake her head no, that this was not a game. But it was impossible to make herself understood.

The woman sighed, “I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Let’s get you up and get that hood off you. After you tell your story I’ll decide whether to put you back in the trunk or not.” And with that she helped Alexis to her feet.

Alexis had a moment to examine her surroundings as her rescuer worked to free her from the hood. She was stunned to see she was no longer in her own basement. The walls were of rough stone. There were bits of old straw scattered about the floor. A scurrying rat caused her to give a muffled scream. How did Paige move the heavy trunk here, she wondered.

“Ah ha,” came the cry of her rescuer. “These locks are pretty tough. Lucky for you I’m an expert at picking them.

Alexis nearly cried with relief as the collar and hood were removed. “Oh thank you,” she gushed. “Please get me out of this. These two women tied me up and stuffed me in this trunk. And now I don’t even know where I am,” she cried.

“Two women eh?” the other replied. “One all in black, calls herself the Countess?”

Alexis stared at her wonderingly, “How did you know?”

“I’m agent U69,” she replied as she worked on releasing the armbinder. “I’ve been on the Countess’s trail for a while now. Maybe you can help me catch her in the act.”

Alexis turned to examine the woman who freed her. Shoulder length jet black hair, tight white pants with knee high boots. Her waist was taken in with a narrow waist cincher and her tight white blouse barely concealed her ample breasts. Black leather gloves adorned her arms.

“What the Hell?” Alexis thought. “Does everybody around here dress like they’re in a vintage porno?”

“Listen,” Alexis told her. “I just want to get home. My father will be missing me.” She paused, confused. “I mean my husband. My husband will be missing me.”

Just then there was a sound from upstairs. A door opened and voices could be heard. “She’s here all right Darcy. I locked her in the trunk myself.”

U69 looked at Alexis. “Quick, back in the trunk. I’ll hide and follow you.”

Alexis took one look at the strange trunk. “No way! I wouldn’t get back in there for anything.”

The other woman faded back into the shadows under the stairs. “Don’t tell them about me,” she hissed. “Tell them you got loose on your own.”

Alexis had just started up the stairs when the door above opened. Two figures were silhouetted against the light, a man in riding boots and jodhpurs, a woman in a long black dress and heels. “Eric,” she called out, “is that you?”

The man tromped down the old stairs. “Oh ho, tied up nice and tight is she Countess? Looks like you could use some lessons from the master,” he said as he reached for Alexis.

Alexis’ eyes widened in shock. This wasn’t Eric. There was a certain resemblance. But this was a stranger, dressed in the same clothes Eric had worn. As his hands fastened on her arms she delivered a sudden punch to his face. “Unhand me you villain,” she cried.

‘Wait, what?’ she thought as she rushed for the stairs, ‘Did I just say that?’

She might have escaped had U69 had time to free her feet from the ballet shoes. As it was she had only unlaced the hobble skirt to Alexis’ knees before the others arrived. It was relatively easy for the other woman to force her back down into the waiting arms of Sir Darcy.

This new Darcy wrapped his arms around her as Alexis struggled. “Gah, she fights like a wildcat! Get me that rope over there.”

Alexis stared as the woman glided down the stairs on four inch heels. A coil of rope hung from a peg on the wall. Picking up the rope she sneered, “You won’t escape me this time.”

Sir Darcy held her in an iron grip while the woman (who Alexis realized must be the Countess) ruthlessly bound her wrists behind her back. For good measure she wrapped more rope around Alexis’ elbows, forcing them together. The black clad woman smiled wickedly as Alexis cried out in pain.

“No wait,” the bound woman cried. “You’ve got the wrong girl! My name is Gwen- I mean Alexis, Alexis Taylor. You’ve got to let me go!”

“The girl’s gone mad,” Sir Darcy stated. “Must have hit her head or something.” He looked at the Countess. “Better shut her up before she alerts the whole countryside.”

“With pleasure,” sneered the Countess. She picked up the recently discarded gag. “Hmm, a little dirt on it,” she said as she examined the muzzle gag. “But that’s what you get for being careless with your toys.”

She grabbed Alexis by the hair, forcing her head back. The rubber phallus was roughly forced between her captive’s teeth. Alexis struggled, but was no match for the other woman. In moments the straps were buckled tightly around her head, welding the gag to her face.

The two villains dragged Alexis up the stairs. She looked about in confusion. It looked like she was in an old mill. But there was nothing like that anywhere near her house. How long had she been in the trunk, she wondered.

When they emerged from the ramshackle structure Alexis was even more perplexed. They were in a heavily wooded countryside. Gone were the neat streets of suburbia. Here there was nothing but old oaks. A voice in the back of her mind told her that her father’s farm was only a little ways down the road.

Wait, what? She thought. Her father lived in the Villages retirement community. And he was a retired accountant, not a farmer. Where did that strange idea come from?

It was the car that brought everything into focus. As they dragged Alexis out of the old mill she saw an antique car waiting for them. Big and black, it sat there with a chauffeur standing by. It looked like something out of the 30’s. And that’s when it hit her.

These people, this place, it was all part of the old books in the trunk. She had somehow been transported into the story! And these people thought she was Gwendolyn!

As she recalled the story it flooded her mind. It was more like a memory than a book. She had to escape so Lightning could run in the race. It was the only way she could save her father’s farm! Alexis pushed back against the memories. She was not the girl in the book. It was all a work of fiction, she told herself.

But for a work of fiction the ropes still bit deeply into her skin. And the smell of the new leather interior of the car was very real as they pushed her inside. She could only hope to accomplish one of Gwendolyn’s many escapes. Perhaps her friend U69 would rescue her. Alexis shook her head. That was another part of the story.

Alexis watched helplessly as she was driven through the countryside. When the car rolled through the iron gates of a large mansion she knew it must be Sir Darcy’s. She could feel an icy knot of fear in her belly. There was a dungeon underneath that pile of stone.

She was pulled roughly from the car and forced into the opulent home. She saw little of it. Instead she was dragged down a flight of stone stairs to a door marked “Dungeon”. Alexis would have laughed at the cliché if she wasn’t terrified.

Darcy’s dungeon was everything one would expect from an old horror film. Rough stone walls, exposed wooden beams and cobwebs gave it that “Hammer Horror” look. Alexis took it all in, wide eyed with fear. She tried desperately to remember what happened in the old magazine pages she’d read.

Waiting for her was a petite woman in a scandalously short maid’s uniform. The sadistic sneer she wore told Alexis that this was Za Za, the real Za Za. She seemed eager to do her mistress’ evil bidding.

Alexis found herself quickly stripped of the leather hobble skirt. Her feet, still locked in the cruel ballet shoes, were tied wide apart to rusty rings set in the floor. Her wrists were bound to a metal bar that was pulled up over her head. It was fixed to one of the exposed wooden beams.

Only when she was completely secured did her captors remove her gag. As soon as she could speak Alexis pleaded with them. “Please, you’ve got the wrong girl! My name is…” But she didn’t get to finish. Sir Darcy grabbed her chin in an iron grip. He forced her to look into his eyes.

“I’ll give you one chance, girl,” he snarled. “Will you withdraw Lightning from the race?”

Alexis stared at him uncertainly. All she had to do was tell them that she’d pull the horse from the race, right? They’d let her go; problem solved. But when she opened her mouth to speak she cried out, “No, never!” Her eyes widened in shock. Why couldn’t she say what she wanted? It was like she was two people in one brain.

Darcy pulled his hand back, ready to strike her. The Countess’ silky voice stopped him in mid swing.

“Let me talk to the girl,” she purred. “Perhaps I can get her to see reason.”She turned to her maid, “Za Za, why don’t you take that corset off our guest. I’m sure she’s a bit tired of wearing it by now.”

Alexis heaved a sigh of relief as the corset laces were loosened. Perhaps this Countess wasn’t as bad as her possessed guest was, she thought. Then she saw her pull a whip from the rack on the wall. Her blood froze in her veins as the Countess sauntered over to her.

“Now my dear,” the Countess crooned as she lifted Alexis’ chin with the whip handle. “All you have to say is ‘Yes’ to make me stop.” She lowered the whip, dragging the braided leather across her captive’s nipples. She leaned in close and whispered, “But I hope you don’t”.

Alexis trembled with fear as the Countess teased her with the whip. She really wanted to tell them that she didn’t care about horses or races or anything else. But as the evil woman dragged the whip between Alexis’s legs all she could whimper was, “Please, no.”

Smirking at the reaction her teasing brought out the Countess moved behind Alexis. As she uncoiled the whip she said, “Now my dear, we’ll bring some color to that pretty white skin.” She drew back her arm ready to strike when Sir Darcy called, “Wait!”

“I’ve got a better idea.” Darcy said as the Countess looked on in annoyance. “One that won’t leave her permanently damaged.”

Alexis nearly cried at her narrow escape. She watched as the self important aristocrat grabbed a metal bucket and a coil of rope. Suddenly she remembered the dungeon scene from the book. Darcy would tie the rope to her hands and use the weight of the water to stretch her body. But U69 would come and rescue her! She just had to let the bizarre little scene play itself out.

But when Sir Darcy approached her he tied the rope around her waist instead of her wrists. As he knotted the rough cord in the small of her back Alexis said uneasily, “Isn’t that supposed to go on my wrists?”

“Haw, haw,” Darcy laughed. “So now the girl is telling me my business, eh?” He pulled the rope down between her legs and out the other side.

Alexis let out a yelp as the rough manila line pulled between the folds of her sex. She felt a wave of panic as he rigged the line over the rafters and to the bucket. He wasn’t following the story! If that could change, what about her rescue by U69?

Frantically Alexis tried to remember the rest of the scene. Unfortunately she’d been more interested in the erotic artwork than the plot. But she had a moment of hope when Sir Darcy positioned the bucket under the water tap. Wasn’t the water blocked in the story?

The villain turned the tap. Water flowed quickly from the spigot, falling with an ominous sound into the old bucket. Alexis immediately felt the rope between her legs tighten. The rough cord pressed deeper with each passing moment.

The bucket got heavier as the water flowed. Soon she found her back bowing forward with its weight. Struggling against her restraints only worked the rope deeper into her folds. Alexis was shocked and mortified to find her body responding to the rough treatment. She blushed crimson as she felt her juices begin to lubricate the rope.

“Darcy, this is taking too long,” the Countess snarled. “Can’t you see the little whore is enjoying herself?” She raised her whip to strike the helpless woman. Just then the door to the dungeon flew open.

One of Darcy’s henchmen rushed into the room. “Hey boss, the barn’s on fire,” he cried!

Alexis was thrilled to hear those words. If the book was right then U69 was trying to rescue her. She watched as Sir Darcy rushed from the room, yelling something about blackmail money. Unfortunately the Countess and Za Za were still in the room.

“Should we help zem?” asked the little maid.

“We will, but first I want to make sure our little escape artist doesn’t get away.” She paused, “Hmmm, where shall we put you my pet?”

Za Za spoke up, “We could put ‘er in ze cage, Madame.”

The countess gave a wicked smile. “An excellent idea Za Za. But remove her shoes first. Let’s keep our little bird on her toes.”

Alexis felt a wave of relief as the strict ballet heels were unlocked from her feet. The Countess untied the crotch rope from the nearly full bucket, easing the strain on her vagina. She nearly came when they pulled the sodden rope from between her legs.

After freeing her hands and feet the two women gripped her arms. They dragged Alexis struggling across the dungeon. She was amazed at how much stronger these women were than her. They manhandled her easily.

Alexis had a flash of memory as she saw the cage they spoke of. It was bands of steel, riveted together in the shape of a human body. In the book she remembered Gwendolyn being locked in there, only to be rescued by U69. She only hoped the storyline was correct as they forced her inside.

The cage hung from a chain in the ceiling. It was hinged on the side. The two women forced her in. Za Za held her in place while the Countess slammed the back half of the cage against her body. Alexis found her body pressed tightly between the front and back of the cage.

“I must see to the men, make our little bird comfortable. Then join me at the barn,” said the Countess as she left the dungeon.

“Za Za weel make you very comfortable, nes pas?” she said to Alexis. “First ve weel fix ze breasts, yes?”

Alexis could feel her breasts pressed hard against the steel of the cage. There were two round steel bands welded to the cage. Za Za guided Alexis’s breasts into these openings, mostly by pulling on her nipples. Za Za only smiled at her cries of pain.

“Now zat ve ‘ave your pretty breasts in place ve do not want them to slip out, oui?” On top of each of the circular bands was a threaded screw and wing nut. As the little maid spun the nut, the bands closed on Alexis beasts. When she was done, Alexis found her breasts trapped in tight bands of steel.

“Ve are almost done, Cheri,” the maid said as she picked up a narrow triangular steel bar. “But ve must make sure you hav ze good posture.” Saying this, she forced the bar between Alexis’ thighs. One end she hooked on the front of the cage. The other end she lifted, forcing it deep into the caged woman’s crotch.

Alexis gasped at the cold steel forcing itself into her privates. The little psychopath kept lifting the bar until Alexis was forced up onto her toes. Unfortunately standing on her toes caused the steel bands that ensnared her breasts to pull downward. Satisfied at the predicament she had created, Za Za secured the bar at the back of the cage.

The evil little maid wasn’t finished. Another triangular steel bar was produced. This one she slid into the bottom of the cage, under Alexis’ bare heels. The caged woman couldn’t come down off her toes without the edge of the bar pressing into the bottom of her feet.

“An now that ze bird is en ze cage we do not want ‘er to sing too much, eh?” Za Za said as she picked up a curved metal plate. She held it up before Alexis’ face. The metal was curved, with holes on either end. There was a flat rounded piece of metal that projected from it.

Alexis was confused as to the strange device’s use until Za Za said, “Open wide little bird.”

With a shock Alexis realized it was a gag! But it was unlike any gag she had seen in the Gwen book. She wasn’t going to let this crazy bitch stick that in her mouth. She clamped her jaw tightly.

Za Za smiled, as if she had hoped for some defiance. “Ze little bird must do as ‘er mama tells ‘er,” she said. One hand held the gag before Alexis’ face. The other reached down to grab her trapped breast. The woman dug her fingers into Alexis’ breast, eliciting a scream of pain.

That was all it took for the metal end of the gag to be shoved into Alexis’ mouth. The flat part of the gag dropped on to a pair of bolts welded to the cage. Wing nuts fixed it into place. The metal gag pinned her tongue to the floor of her mouth, rendering speech impossible. Alexis could only whimper in protest.

“Ohh, c’est magnifique,” crooned the little maid as she ran her hands down the steel slats of the cage. She let them linger on Alexis’ breasts, which were already beginning to swell from their confinement. “Verra nice,” she said as she tugged on the captive woman’s nipples. Alexis’s wail of pain brought a smile to her face.

“But now ze little bird must learn to fly, no?” said Za Za as she stepped away from the cage. Alexis couldn’t turn her head to follow her tormentor’s actions. But she heard the ratcheting of a crank. She felt her prison rise off the floor. It swung gently on the end of its chain.

Za Za returned to Alexis’ field of vision. “I am so sad to leave ze little bird,” she pouted. “But she weel wait for Za Za, no?” She rose on tip toe to plant a kiss on the flat surface of the gag. With a final laugh she gave the cage a push, causing it to spin on its chain. Laughing, she said, “Adieu Cheri” as she left the dungeon.

Alexis groaned as the cage swung. Every motion caused her discomfort. She tried to stay up on her toes but soon fatigue got the better of her. Her legs cramped. She slowly eased herself down, feeling the metal bar pressing into the soles of her feet. Worse still the triangular steel bar between her legs pushed upward on her labia, bringing new discomfort.

Even that slight downward movement caused the end of her gag to push against the roof of her mouth. The only positive of this movement was to ease the strain on her bound breasts. Alexis turned her eyes downward to see them slowly swelling into round orbs of slightly blue flesh.

Alexis tolerated the pain in her feet and crotch as long as she could. The cramping in her legs subsided enough for her to rise up on her toes again. Even that relief came at a price. It felt as if her breasts were being pulled off by the steel cage.

The steel in her mouth shifted about. Alexis’ salivary glands went into overdrive, trying to lubricate the unyielding intruder. Unable to swallow, she had no choice other than to let the drool run from the corners of her mouth and down her naked body.

Alexis wasn’t sure how many times she had shifted her positions in the cage. It was a blur of fatigue and pain. This was so much different than the sensual predicaments in the Gwendolyn stories, she thought. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in this nightmare world. But she knew the strange trunk was the key to it.

When the door to the dungeon opened and U69 stepped in Alexis nearly wept with joy. At least that part of the storyline was still intact.

“My, my you do get into the darndest predicaments, Gwen,” said the agent. She ran a leather gloved hand over the cage. “Would you like me to release you? Or are you having too much fun?” the agent scoffed.

Alexis could only whimper and plead with her eyes. But her meaning was clear.

Getting out of the bondage cage was almost as bad as getting into it. Alexis’ poor breasts were so swollen that even with the bands loosened they were a tight fit coming off. And pulling the metal bar from between her legs brought her the most humiliating reaction.

“We better get you out of here,” U69 said. “I set fire to the barn, but that won’t distract them forever.”

Alexis massaged her breasts, trying to ease the pins and needles of returning circulation while ignoring her vagina’s reaction to the stimulation. “I’m ready,” she said with determination. “But they’ve taken my clothes.”

“I’ve thought of that,” said the agent confidently. Gestured to a small bundle of clothing she had dropped in the corner. “I stopped by the Countess’ dressing room and filched an outfit for you.”

Alexis was thrilled at the idea of wearing something other than a corset and the dreaded ballet heels. But her heart sank when she saw the little leather dress that U69 had grabbed for her. “This?” she said, holding up the little dress.

“I had to act fast,” replied the agent. “Put it or go naked, but we’ve got to get out of here.”

With a sigh Alexis struggled into the little dress. It was similar to the little halter dress Paige had worn back at her house. Alexis hooked the halter strap behind her neck, enjoying the feel of the butter soft leather against her skin. To her dismay, she found that the dress didn’t have a zipper in the back. It laced up like a corset.

U69 watched Alexis fumble with the laces. Stepping up behind her she said, “Here, let me do that.” She gave a sudden tug on the laces, closing the dress tightly around Alexis’ waist. The bodice tightened with each pull, squeezing Alexis’ still tender breasts.

Alexis might have complained about the tight lacing, but the bodice was so low cut that she would most likely have fallen out of it if she had to move. Flashing her breasts at passersby probably wasn’t the best way to make a discreet escape. A little part of her brain answered back, “And you like the way it feels.”

When U69 handed her a pair of shoes Alexis’ heart sank. The heel was at least four inches. “Doesn’t anyone around her wear flats,” she grumbled. ‘At least I don’t have to put on those horrible ballet heels again’, she thought. Wincing slightly at the narrow pointed toe, she slipped the shoes on, buckling the wide ankle straps.

When U69 saw she was ready she said, “With a black wig we could pass you off for the Countess, but no time for that. Let’s go.”

As they crept through the empty halls Alexis marveled at how easily she was moving in her high heels. Before this she’d never worn anything higher than three inches max. Now she glided through the manor like it was nothing at all.

Their escape was flawless. U69 had a roadster hidden just off the road. In minutes they were speeding down the road with the wind in their hair. “Now we just have to get you back to your daddy’s farm and hide Lightning until the race,” U69 called out over the oar of the engine.

‘Yes,’ thought Alexis, ‘It will be so good to see Daddy again.’ She sat up in the seat with a start. That wasn’t right. It was those strange thoughts filling her head again. It was like she was disappearing into the pulp fiction narrative! She needed to get back home.

“No, don’t take me home,” she told her driver. “Take me to the old mill.”

“Have you gone loopy, sister,” the agent replied. “They’re sure to check there for you.”

Alexis struggled to find an excuse to get back to the trunk. It seemed like the storyline itself didn’t want her to change the plot. “I-I left Lightning’s registration form in that old trunk,” she stammered. “I have to get it so he can be in the race.”

“Well why didn’t you say so,” shouted U69 as she cut the wheel sharply. The car veered off the main road towards the old mill. Alexis gave a sigh of relief. Now if only the rest of her plan worked.

As they pulled up in front of the dilapidated building Alexis said, “Keep the motor running, I won’t be a minute.” She moved quickly across the dirt road to the entrance. Once inside she headed for the cellar. She nearly sobbed with relief to see the old trunk still there.

Alexis stared down into the open trunk. Nothing but the same yellowing copies of “Bizarre,” and “The Adventures of Sweet Gwendoline,” inside. Still, the trunk had brought her to this crazy place. Could it bring her back? And if it didn't, how long before she actually was Gwendolyn?

Biting back her fears Alexis stepped over the lip of the trunk. She took a deep breath before grabbing the lid and pulling it shut. The darkness engulfed her. Again she heard the dry, whispering voices. They spoke of kidnappings, of techniques for tying women up, of gags and corsets.”

There was a heavy jolt. The voices were silent. Alexis listened carefully to a new sound, something rubbing on the lid of the trunk. Had it worked? Was she back? She was almost too frightened to look. That noise could be Sir Darcy toying with her.

Determined to fight if it was, Alexis flung open the lid. She popped up like a leather clad jack in the box. Her startled husband stood before her in a stained tee shirt. He stared at her in shock, dropping the bottle of furniture polish and rag he was holding.

“Alexis, wha?” was all he got out before she threw herself into his arms, sobbing. She buried her face in his chest. “Oh Eric, thank God it’s you,” she cried.

A wave of dizziness struck her. It felt as if the room tilted beneath her feet. Suddenly the cotton tee shirt was the silk of a carefully tied ascot. Alexis looked up into the face of her husband, now adorned with a bushy moustache.

As he cried out, “So that’s where you’ve been hiding, you little minx,” Alexis’ world spun into the darkness of unconsciousness.


Continues in

You can also leave your feedback & comments about this story on the Plaza Forum