The 13th Hostage
By Peter Walsh
Part Nine
When I came around from my latest chloroform doping I was in a familiar world of hurt. All my primary senses were compromised. Gagged, ears plugged, hooded and bound. I was still clad in my scant underwear and knee socks. By my cramped posture and the vibrations around me, it did not take long for me to realise that I was on the move. I was travelling hostage class in the trunk of a car. What can I say? Not nice, not fair and not recommended. In my new career as a full time prisoner I was almost getting used to being passed between captors. By my bondage I knew I was back in the care of Marion Brooke and nasty little Lynda. Leonora had made me an offer. Freedom of sorts. Marion Brooke had not looked kindly upon it. I guess she had issues with her friend cum rival and I was now the currency of it. But what of the others? Gita, Gina and Lee. I was now alone and the thought was scaring me. Captivity is not a good experience but sharing it with others does dull the fear a little. That meagre sense of comfort now appeared to be gone and I did not like it one bit. Though there was little point to it I again pulled at my bonds. I hoped against all hope that they might loosen. No such luck. The ropes about my chest, wrists, knees and ankles remained very tight indeed. I would stay bound until somebody decided that I should not be bound. At least I had stopped weeping. That particular trail of emoting had come to an end. I was grateful for that. As I lay in the dark confines of the trunk of the car I tried to steel myself for what was coming next. * * * * * * * ‘There!’ Lynda giggled in triumph and then tossed me onto the bed. I bounced a little but it was a soft landing. Lynda then stood over me and giggled again. She was enjoying every moment of this. I glared up at her. Her image was distorted through the mesh of black nylon trapping not only my entire head but my entire body. She was wearing a tight purple top, a short tight black skirt and knee-high black boots. Her hair was down but her sinisterly pretty face was still decorated by plaster and gauze. I was still bound with ropes at the wrists and ankles and my mouth packed and taped but Lynda had ambitiously further secured me by encasing me in black pantyhose. What can I say? Different! It had taken eight pairs of hose to create Lynda’s bondage tableau vivant. Lynda manoeuvred me into the centre of the bed and said ‘There!’ again. I was in a well appointed room that somehow reminded me of a pricy hotel suite. It was a comfortable enough prison I suppose. Through my pantyhose misted vision I saw the always elegant figure of Marion Brooke appear at Lynda’s shoulder. She was a vision of ice cool blondeness wearing a conservative grey pants suit and chic but sensible grey shoes. ‘Oh Lynda! What have you done to her?’ Her tone was puzzled but amused. I moaned and squirmed under her gaze. Helpless did not begin to describe how I felt. However there was an irony to my nylon based captivity. Calvin Klein Satin Opaque black hose encased me. My preferred brand to adorn my legs! It was oddly fitting I suppose. ‘I hope she won’t suffocate?’ Marion Brooke commented. Not that I felt she cared that much. ‘She can breathe-just’. Lynda advised. This girl needed help. ‘You look rather cute Ms Kink’. Marion Brooke smiled down at me. ‘I hope you are not too uncomfortable?’ Again I squirmed and moaned. I thought about how for a brief time I had switched the tables on these two. It was unlikely to happen again in the immediate future. ‘I expect you want to know about your friends?’ Marion Brooke asked me. I nodded my pantyhose trapped head at her. ‘They are in the next room. All trussed up like you are but not so creatively. Gagged too-obviously. They are missing you. We are keeping you separate as Leonora regards you as a bit special-so do we, don’t we Lynda?’ ‘Most definitely!’ My body temperature was climbing it was getting very warm trapped in that soft but strong mesh of dark nylon. ‘Leonora likes you Ms Kink and by having you in my possession gives my relationship with her a little more flexibility’. Marion Brooke told me. ‘Plus I really like playing with you’ Lynda smirked down at me. I told them both what I thought of them through the tape, packing and pantyhose but a gag does rob ones words of any authority. ‘Lynda has been quite inspired in her nylon encasement of you Ms Kink’. Marion Brooke said. ‘It is an added level of confinement plus we won’t have to stick you in a bag when we next move you!’ It was getting hot inside all that hose. I was used to wearing them just on my legs not my whole body. I squirmed again in a suitably futile manner. ‘We shall love you and leave you then’. The dreaded duo left the room and turned out the light. * * * * * * * I rolled around on the bed in my state of hosed mummification. All I achieved was getting myself even more hot and even more bothered. The layers of tight nylon trapped me into an almost foetal posture. Strange that something designed to decorate the leg had become such a source of torment. I moved my lips under the tape but there was no give in it and with my tongue I pushed the packing as far forward as it would go against my front teeth. I took steady breaths through my nose via the black nylon. How long were they going to keep me like this? I forced myself to lie still in the darkness. I began to think about what I could do about my situation. The answer was disappointing. I had to get lucky sometime. Right? ‘Hmmmph!’ I allowed myself a muffled sound of frustration. The black nylon so tight about my head had uncomfortably bunched up my long hair partly about my face. I was now in danger of being suffocated by its now damp mass. I wished for the very first time in my life that I had short hair. I continued to roll about on the bed in my pantyhose prison. I teetered near to the edge of the bed. I carefully rolled back. If I hit the floor I might hurt myself but the sound of the thud of Sooz hitting carpet might bring Marion and Lynda back. I was far from keen on the latter. I came to rest in the centre of the bed and thought about what sort of life I had enjoyed prior to all this captivity. It had been at all bad but I then had the bleak thought that I might never be able to return to it. My eyes started to fill up with tears again. So much for the no weeping rule. My tears wet my hair and the black nylon wrapped about my face. Inside my synthetic cocoon wrists were crossed and bound behind my back. I moved them as much as the ropes would allow. I moved them again. Then again, again, again, again, again and again. I felt something give. I moved my wrists again. Something definitely gave! C’mon Sooz! * * * * * * * I stood up from the bed in the dark and luxuriated in gloriously free arms and legs. My ropes, gag and eight pairs of pantyhose lay on the bed behind me. It had taken some time to extricate myself from the suffocating hose but I was working like I had a purpose. ‘Fuck you Lynda!’ I hissed almost silently at the door. What next? I took stock. I had no idea where I was. I was wearing virtually nothing. I was outnumbered. Three negatives just to start with. I started to explore the room. There was a scant source of light emanating from under the door. Just enough to enable me to navigate around my surroundings. I could not risk putting on the light. I found a bathroom and took a much needed comfort break and was able to freshen up a little. I found a wardrobe. Fortunately the door made little or no noise as I slid it open. Empty coat hangars rattled. My fingers then touched garments hung up within. What can I say? This was all very positive. I found a cashmere top, the lack of light made its colour a mystery but that was not an immediate consideration. I pulled it on over my head and freed my long hair. A couple of minutes of fumbled searching found some jeans. Fortune still favoured me, they were low slung and I had to roll up the legs a little but the jeans were a fit. I did not know how I managed to get them on without falling over but I did. Shoes. There had to be shoes. I dropped to my knees in my search. I touched shoes. I found a pair of plain leather flats. Now for the bad news-they were too small for me. I rummaged around for more but none were to be found. For now I would have to run round in my socks. I stretched again. It was just great to be free. I was no longer confined and now had clothes to wear. However I was still locked up in that room. I went to the windows to the left of the bed which were shrouded in plush curtains. I carefully parted them. I stifled a gasp. I looked at the lights of the city below. A long way below. I was back in the city but I was captive in a very tall tower. I was not all that keen on heights anyway. I preferred not to think how many floors up I was. I just ruled out an exit via the window. I looked back at the door. One way in and one way out. I took a deep breath. What can I say? I had an ambush to organise. * * * * * * * I had to wait perhaps an hour before my captors returned to check on me. Inevitably it was Lynda but she was alone. Perfect! Lynda walked in and before she had the chance to put on the light I stepped out from behind the door and slugged her across the back of her head. My weapon was improvised. A shower head in a pair of pantyhose. Lynda gasped and staggered forward. I moved swiftly and slugged her again. This time she went down. I quickly closed the door behind us and put on the light. Lynda lay prone at my feet. She was face down. I dropped to one knee. I saw the little Glock in a holster inside the waistband of her skirt at the small of her back. I swiftly liberated it from her and put it to one side. I rolled her over onto her back. I quickly searched her. I found a cell phone, some keys and a pad of white gauze sealed inside a clear plastic bag. No prizes for guessing what the latter was. Lynda moaned and started to move. I reacted quickly and got the gauze pad out of the bag. As expected it was very damp with a familiar scented liquid. I pressed the pad over Lynda’s nose and mouth. In her already stunned state she did not offer any resistance and swiftly succumbed. I had been chloroformed several times in my recent history and it was the first opportunity I had enjoyed to return the favour. What can I say? It was a liberating experience. I knew what I had to do. Get Lynda undressed and tied up and gagged as quickly as possible. I set to work, knowing I would enjoy it. * * * * * * * ‘There!’ I said and tossed Lynda onto the bed. A very trussed up Lynda landed dead centre. I had stripped her down to her minimalist underwear of skimpy bra and thong both in royal purple. Her top, skirt and tights were neatly folded on a chair nearby with her boots at the base. What can I say? I respect other peoples property. Lynda’s boots were unfortunately about two sizes too small from me. I was still without footwear. I had gagged Lynda before tying her up. I had put the plentiful pantyhose on offer to good use. A wadded up pair went in her mouth, a second pair was secured between her teeth to hold the latter and a third pair covered the whole package. I made sure it was tight. The ropes that had previously bound me now bound her at the wrists and ankles. I added the pantyhose as bindings where required. I had one pair of satin black hose left over so I used this to blindfold my pretty but mean prisoner. Lynda was now out of the game. I thought about stashing her in the cupboard or the bathroom but I had to move. I had friends to rescue. I looked at the items I had taken from Lynda. Gun, phone, keys and a small folding knife. I fiddled with her phone. It was a state of the art smart model but it was password protected. I could not access it to put it to use. One less thing to carry. Lynda was starting to stir on the bed. I went over and gave her another hit of the chloroform pad. ‘There!’ I hissed at her again. This was it--I had to move. Sooz to the rescue-I hoped. I put the light out in the room and with extreme caution stepped out, borrowed gun in hand, into the hallway beyond. To be continued.