Cynthia watched the door, steeling herself for the worst. She had no illusions that the party guests, seeing a beautiful young redhead bound tightly to a chair, with her mouth sealed tightly with tape, would have any inclination to take pity on her. She was as astonished as anyone else to see coming through the door, not a pack of drunken robber barons and captains of industry, but, rather, a group of women, and women that she knew all too well!
"Jennifer, this is quite a surprise." The wife of the "birthday boy" spoke. "I hadn't expected to see you here."
The brunette heiress had no time for small talk. "There's been a change of plans. We are going to need the services of Captain Crane immediately."
"But…but-my husband's party! I-I've paid…"
"Here." Jennifer Bruce held out a check. "I'm returning the deposit you paid on an evening's rental of Captain Crane. In addition," she went on, nodding at three flashily-dressed young women with her, "these young ladies are quite expert, and will, I'm sure, provide your husband and his cronies with all the entertainment they require." The dark look on Jennifer Bruce's face made it clear that none of this was open to discussion. "All right, girls, " she spoke to her employees, "pack up and let's go. I have some questions for Captain Crane, so be sure you have a change of gags with you." The two women were busily packing up the equipment that Cynthia had seen spread on the couch. The party's hostess stepped close to Jennifer Bruce.
"Jen, dear… do you suppose you might have a little…um…'extra' equipment that you might let us borrow for the evening?" Her gaze traveled to the three call girls conversing with her guests. Jennifer Bruce gave her a wintry smile.
"All right. Tell the girls to leave enough equipment for three-we really don't need it all tonight. Nothing extreme, mind. I don't want to damage my reputation with their agency."
While Jennifer Bruce supervised their departure, Maxine Morton helped herself to some canapes from the refreshment table. Pammy Lloyd, however, had gone to stare down at the bound figure of Captain Cynthia Crane. Looking up at the ambitious young politician, Cynthia wasn't sure what she expected: more triumphant gloating, or perhaps a vindictive assault on her helpless person. Instead, Lloyd squatted down in front of the captive policewoman, and her cold blue eyes seemed to bore right into Cynthia's limpid green ones.
"Wouldn't it be better if her arms were tied, too?" Lloyd was addressing the female member of Bruce's security team, but continuing to examine Cynthia Crane carefully, as though she were looking at some sort of specimen or exhibit.
"She looks secure enough," responded the woman. "Even if she could tip the chair to try and work herself free, someone could easily stop her before she got very far."
"OK, but I bet she'd feel a lot more helpless if there was some rope tied nice and tight around that chest of hers."
"Maybe, but remember that they needed her available for the men when they returned; in a situation like that, you want to make it easy to undo her quickly so they can get started on her." It hadn't seemed possible that Cynthia could dislike these women more than she already did, but this cold-blooded discussion of her plight set a cold fury burning inside her. She would bring them to justice and clear her name if it was the last thing she ever did!
Determined though Cynthia might be, she was still in the hands of her enemies, a fact brought home as Jennifer Bruce spoke to Pammy Lloyd: "All right, undo her wrists and ankles from the chair, and let's get moving." Loyd eagerly untied Cynthia's ankles from the rung of the chair, while the other woman removed the straps about her body, and unfastened the cuffs from the chair. She grabbed Cynthia by one arm and casually hauled her to her feet. "Here, Miss Lloyd," called the woman, "use these to secure her some more, if you'd like," and she tossed the leather straps that had held Cynthia to the chair to the young politician. Pammy Lloyd snatched them up like a greedy child hoarding candy.
"Turn around," she ordered Cynthia. They were the first words the woman had spoken directly to the captive. Cynthia noticed that everyone in the room had stopped to watch, and determined to give her audience as little enjoyment as possible. Meekly, with no show of emotion, Cynthia obeyed. When she had her back to her captor, Cynthia closed her eyes, sighing through her nose.
"Hold her hair." Cynthia felt someone gather her long hair up and move it off her back and shoulders. Her eyes flew open as Lloyd yanked hard on her arms, pulling them together and using one of the straps to fasten her elbows together. It was fortunate that Cynthia's job had always required her to be in top physical shape; it nearly felt as though she had dislocated a shoulder as it was. Despite her resolve not to provide her captors with any extra amusement, she was unable to prevent a muffled "Uuuuummmmpppphhh!" escaping as the strap cinched her elbows together. She heard laughter, and one woman remark, "Goodness, I would never have thought they could possibly stick out any farther." Cynthia's hair was released to fall about her panifully-twisted shoulders.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Pammy Lloyd going over to the women who were sorting out the bondage equipment to leave for the party. Cynthia couldn't hear what was said, but she saw Lloyd carrying something as she returned. Cynthia felt her hair swept forward and to one side, and Lloyd giggled behind her, "I've always wanted to try this." Cynthia could scarcely believe what happened next: if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that the woman had put a dog collar on her! And, of course, in the next instant, she came to the realization that Lloyd had, in fact, placed a collar upon her neck. Lloyd's grinning face came into view, now, and she reached under Cynthia's chin and clipped a leather leash onto the collar. Cynthia was unable to see the collar, but it could not possibly have looked any worse than it did in her imagination. The captive policewoman closed her eyes, but a tug came on the leash, and Cynthia stumbled forward, opening her eyes to keep from falling. Before the smirking gazes of the partygoers, Cynthia was led like an animal to the door. Lloyd made certain that her captive passed closely enough to the other women that any who wished to could still give her a mocking kiss, a quick tug on her hair, or a pinch on her breast. Now, finally, Cynthia felt tears begin to well up in her eyes; they were as much tears of fury as of humiliation, but she still fought them back, and then found that trying to navigate the stairs led by her neck required so much of her attention that all other thoughts had to be put aside.
Jennifer Bruce's long, dark limousine waited outside, along with the security team's van. The two women who had supervised Cynthia at the party got into the front of the limo, and Morton's party got in the van. The rear door of the limousine was opened, and Lloyd forced Cynthia inside. Cynthia had painful memories of the spacious interior of the vehicle. Lloyd pushed her captive down onto a bench seat, and used a seat belt to buckle her in place. Cynthia tried to squirm to make room for her achingly-bound arms behind her, but Lloyd had given her very little room to move. As the limo pulled away into the night, Lloyd sat down next to Cynthia; Jennifer Bruce was perched on a small cocktail table, studying Cynthia. She spoke to Lloyd: "Take that gag off her."
Pammy Lloyd slipped a fingernail under the edge of the tape sealing Cynthia's mouth, and began to work it free. Hours of adhesion had bonded the tape to Cynthia's skin, and Lloyd was obviously in no hurry, so each centimeter felt like an hour of agony. Jennifer Bruce sighed, and stepped in front of Lloyd. She seized hold of the loose tape, and pulled it from Cynthia's face in one yank.
"AAAAggggghhhh!" Cynthia shrieked through the spongy filling in her mouth, and was now helpless to prevent the tears from coursing down her cheeks. Pammy Lloyd reached into Cynthia's open mouth, and withdrew one of the sponges, sopping with Cynthia's saliva. "Does this feel as icky in your mouth as it looks? Or did you kind of get used to it?" Cynthia looked murder through her tears, and Jennifer Bruce sighed again.
"Pammy, we really need to get busy, here. After I'm done with her, you can experiment on Captain Crane as much as you like."
"That will give me a chance to try out some of the things I'm going to do to Alexandra Anderson." The blue eyes glinted.
Jennifer Bruce drew the last sponge from Cynthia's mouth, and the bound policewoman threw back her head, able to breath easily for the first time in hours. When she looked at Jennifer Bruce again, the woman had opened a bottle of Evian water.
"Have a drink. We have a lot to talk about." Cynthia mistrusted her captor, but was too desperately thirsty to care. After two sips, Bruce pulled the bottle away.
"Now, my dear Captain Crane, I have a few questions for you. You will remain ungagged as long as you answer my questions in a co-operative manner. Now, Alexandra Anderson has escaped. She hasn't gone home, we've been watching her apartment; she probably suspected we would, and that's why she didn't got there. I know the police keep safe houses for important witnesses and informants. Where is Alexandra Anderson?"
"Anderson? Why would she---"
"She and Simone were together." Jennifer Bruce's lips pursed, and she seemed to be thinking out loud as much as speaking to Cynthia. " It's obvious Simone would never go to the police for protection, but Anderson would. Anderson is the only link we have to Simone and the princess. I have my agents looking for Simone, but if she's alone, she's gone into hiding. If Anderson was with her, Simone may have told her something. Either way, Anderson should be much easier to find." Bruce gritted her teeth, and shook Cynthia's head by the hair. "Now, tell me-if Anderson went to the police, where is she?"
"The last time I saw Alexandra was when you were drugging us both, you rich---oowww!"
"I know that," Bruce cut Cynthia off with another vicious yank on her hair. "What I want to know is IF she went to the police, WHERE would they hide her?"
"At the Midtown Precinct," gasped Cynthia.
"You're lying, there must be some house or hotel reserved for that purpose."
"Let me go!" Cynthia nearly bellowed at her captor, and Jennifer Bruce was so startled, she released her grip on Cynthia's hair. The bound policewoman heaved a sigh and went on. "Frankly, if there were any chance that Alexandra was in such a location, I wouldn't tell you; the plain truth is that the house we were using is being fumigated this week." Jennifer Bruce stared, incredulously. "For the past week, the basement of that station house has been littered with cots, blankets, and dirty laundry. If Alexandra did go to the police, she's where you can't lay a finger on her!"
Jennifer Bruce tried to bore holes into Cynthia's face with her eyes. Pammy Lloyd started to say something, then thought better of it. It was silent in the limo for several minutes. Finally, Jennifer Bruce spoke.
"Crane, I know you're brave enough to take the chance of trying to throw me off Anderson's track, even knowing what I'll do to you if you lie to me. And, I doubt you're bright enough to come up with that stupid story on such sort notice." After another long pause, Jennifer Bruce signed. She called to the front seat of the limo, "All right, take us to Deputy Mayor Lloyd's office." She then turned to Cynthia. "We'll find Simone, we'll find Anderson, and we'll find the princess, and then all three of them will wish they had never been born. As for you, well, you're a wanted criminal now, aren't you? I think it's time we announce that Deputy Mayor Lloyd has made herself a citizen's arrest. Pammy," she turned to the grinning blonde, "those sponges are probably too worn to fill Captain Crane's mouth properly. Find something else in that bag." Pammy Lloyd gleefully began rummaging in the bag of bondage equipment. Her tone changed to disappointment as she said, "I think we left all the good stuff back at the party." She looked Cynthia Crane up and down. "You know, that poor man never got to unwrap his birthday present tonight. Maybe I should unwrap it for him."
Bruce laughed. "Go ahead. Where she's going, they'll have a change of clothes for her, anyway."
Once more, Cynthia closed her eyes to try and block out the humiliation. She felt the energetic young blonde seize the front of the lacy lingerie that had been draped over her, and ripped it away. Scraps of the flimsy material hung on Cynthia's body, and Lloyd pulled away as many as she could with Cynthia bound to the seat. She then took a small knife from the bag, and sliced the silk panties and yanked them free, leaving Cynthia squirming, her bare bottom on the leather upholstery.
"Now, Captain Crane," Lloyd announced melodramatically, "before I announce your capture to the assembled media, I'm going to shut that big mouth of yours. And just to show how big it is, why don't we count just how much of this nice frilly material is needed to fill it!"
"Lloyd, when I get ----uuuummmmfffff!" The panties went in first. Pammy Lloyd put one hand behind Cynthia's head to steady it, as her fingers worked the silky fabric as far back into Cynthia's mouth as she could manage.
"That's one." As Cynthia desperately tried to position her tongue so the panties wouldn't slip farther down her throat, Lloyd took one of the scraps from the top Cynthia had been wearing, balled it up, and stuffed it in behind the panties. Since the panties were shoved as far back in Cynthia's mouth as Lloyd had been able to get them, she stuffed this next piece of cloth to the side, puffing out Cynthia's left cheek. "Two," Cynthia's captor counted. Another piece of the torn lingerie was stuffed into Cynthia's right cheek, the next was jammed up to the roof of her mouth, another was used to press her tongue down. The gleeful Pammy Lloyd soon lost interest in counting, and went on until Cynthia's mouth was literally as full as it was possible for it to be. Now, it was taking the force of Lloyd's two hands, one on the back of Cynthia's head, and the other at the front of her jammed-open mouth, to hold all the stuffing in place. Without waiting to be asked, Jennifer Bruce bent to the bag, and handed Lloyd one of the leather straps. She forced this as deeply between Cynthia's teeth as the packing allowed, and buckled it behind the helpless policewoman's head. Some of Cynthia's hair was pinched in the buckle, but she quickly forgot that minor discomfort as Pammy Lloyd drew out a roll of duct tape, and began wrapping it over the gag, and around Cynthia's head. After a half-dozen turns, she tore it from the roll, smoothed it down, and gave a quick pinch to Cynthia's exposed right breast. The resulting squeal from the captive would barely have been audible in the fromt seat of the limousine. Satisfied that Cynthia could make no noise worth mentioning, Pammy Lloyd used more of the leather straps to immobilize Cynthia's legs. She unbuckled the seat belt, and lay her captive across the seat, pulling Cynthia's bound wrists and ankles together and hogtying the powerless policewoman. After a few moments, the woman driving executed a sharp turn, and Cynthia Crane slid across the seat and onto the floor. Jennifer Bruce laughed, and languidly stretched out her legs to rest her feet on the bound form at her feet. Pammy Lloyd joined her laughter, adding "Of course, once I get hold of Alexandra Anderson, I'll make her really uncomfortable." Barely able even to writhe in her pain, Cynthia Crane shuddered at the thought of what awaited the blond reporter if this madwoman did get her hands on her. And her own fate, of course, was looking very grim, indeed.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Deputy Mayor Pammy Lloyd looked gravely into the TV camera. She sat behind the Mayor's enormous desk, thinking once again how much better for all concerned if the old fool would simply go down in a plane on his way back next week. "As you all know, the kidnapping of Princess Melany has been a terrible shock to our city." The small group of TV reporters gathered in the Mayor's office could see the toll this had taken on Deputy Mayor Lloyd: though dressed in a sharply-tailored blue suit, she seemed flushed, and was breathing heavily, and licking her lips. Of course, from where they all stood across the room, none of them could see her that clearly, but on the TV monitor beside the cameras that were filming, Deputy Mayor Pammy Lloyd certainly looked like she wished she were somewhere else. She went on, "However, I can announce to you tonight that I have, at great personal risk, effected the capture of Police Captain Cynthia Crane, who betrayed the princess to her kidnappers." Pammy Lloyd closed her eyes, and seemed to be listening to a sound close to where she was sitting. The reporters strained to hear, but over the hum of equipment and traffic noises from the street, they could make out nothing. "Captain Crane will be held for questioning, and it is hoped that she will soon give us the information we need to rescue the princess." Now, the reporters were sure they could hear a sound, a muffled thump. Lloyd heard it, too, and stopped. She looked around, but when she saw that no one had moved, or gone to investigate the sound, her smile widened. For a moment, Lloyd stared dreamily off into space; then, she loosened her collar further. She seemed to be perspiring unusually in the air-conditioned office. She looked down at the massive desk in front of her, then resumed. "I promise you that, as soon as we have more word on the princess' whereabouts, we will share that news speedily." With that, the director signaled the cameras to be turned off. Pammy Lloyd closed her eyes, and sat back in the chair. As the reporters filed out, the Deputy Mayor seemed more flushed than ever, but she was, if anything, smiling more broadly.
Pammy Lloyd opened her eyes. Licking her lips, breathing heavily, she called out, "Mr. Taylor!" At the back of the group of reporters, a strikingly good-looking man turned to look at her. "May I have a word?" He shrugged, and the others left. Pammy Lloyd indicated a small anteroom off the office. "Would you wait there for me for a few minutes, please?" The reporter was puzzled; he had spoken to the Deputy Mayor on a few occasions, of course, but had no idea why she might choose to see him privately. Some sort of exclusive? He'd soon know.
After the reporter had left, Pammy Lloyd found herself getting warmer still, and she gasped as she relaxed the control she had kept herself under during her televised speech. She stood up, moved back her chair, and looked under the desk. Two clear green eyes glared at her over a mask of grey duct tape.
"Nice try," breathed Lloyd. "That kick on the floor was almost loud enough for them to notice." Her breathing quickened. "Of course, that was the fun of it, wasn't it? That I knew you were under there, bound and gagged, and no one else did. Rescuers so close, and no one to help you." Cynthia didn't know why she even bothered, but she whinnied through the gag in frustration.
The main office door opened. Jennifer Bruce and two of her security team entered.
"All right, 'Your Honor', time for Captain Crane to be leaving." One of the women reached down and undid the straps binding Cynthia's legs. By her bound arms, she pulled the bound woman to her feet; Cynthia staggered as the circulation began to return to her legs. The woman took hold of the leash still fastened to Cynthia's collar, and pulled her toward the service door at the rear of the office.
"Wait." Pammy Lloyd approached the woman she had so cruelly bound, gagged, and tormented. "I want to thank you," she breathed heavily. "I've never…never-" Pammy Lloyd broke off, and turned away, in an obvious effort at controlling herself. The women shrugged, and pulled Captain Cynthia Crane out of the room. Jennifer Bruce called "goodbye," but Lloyd didn't seem to hear.
Alone in the office, Pammy Lloyd bit her lip, and began to groan quietly to herself. Panting, she raced to the anteroom door and threw it open. Waiting for her in the office was what's-his-name Taylor, the brainless sap from the 6 o'clock news. Brainless, yes, but for Lloyd's purposes, his other organs would no doubt be all in place. Taylor stared in shock as the Deputy Mayor ripped off her suit jacket and white blouse she wore with no bra underneath. Savagely, she yanked a clip from her hair, and golden hair spilled carelessly around her face. In a bound, she was on Ed Taylor, scrabbling at his zipper with one hand, and pressing his right hand to her breast with the other. Taylor tried to speak, but his mouth was swallowed in Lloyd's hungry kiss. Pammy Lloyd closed her eyes, pictured Cynthia Crane and Alexandra Anderson bound, gagged, and lying helplessly at her feet, and practically raped Ed Taylor on the floor of the anteroom.
In the darkness outside the Klaw Women's Correctional Institute, a long limousine came to a stop. The rear door opened, and Jennifer Bruce got out. Behind her, one of ther employees dragged the collared form of Cynthia Crane. Harsh flourescent lighting glinte off her red hair as she and her captors waited for an answer to Bruce's knock. In moments, the door opened, and a hard-looking woman in uniform said, "Yeah?"
"New prisoner. The warden is expecting her. Special arrangements have been made."
The guard led Bruce and her party down a corridor. Cynthia desperately pulled at her collar. Bound, gagged, and helpless, she knew there was no escape, but her courage began to fail her, and simple instinct took over. It was no use, of course. The woman who held her leash simply gave a savage yank that sent Cynthia stumbling to her knees. She wanted to stay there, or, better yet, sink to the floor and persuade herself it was all a terrible dream. Instead, she was dragged into a well-furnished office. A dark-haired woman with a cherubic face looked up from a desk.
"Warden Page, this is your new inmate," said Jennifer Bruce.
"Ah, yes. Captain Cynthia Crane." The woman's soft face broke into a wicked grin. "How nice to have you joining us. You have a LOT of old friends here-or, I suppose I should say 'acquaintances.' After all, they KNOW you well, I just don't think they feel exactly friendly towards you." She exchanged smiles with Jennifer Bruce.
"Just make sure she is kept quiet and away from anyone who might talk to police or the press. Once I have the princess, and can report that she died in captivity, we can dispose of Captain Crane. Until then, I need her alive and out of sight."
"Don't worry." The warden took Cynthia's leash from the woman who held it. She grasped it just below the point where it was attached to the collar. She yanked it hard, pulling Cynthia's face up to her own. "We'll keep Cynthia Crane out of your way, and we'll be sure to keep her entertained in the process." The warden then pulled Cynthia's head down by the leash, planted a kiss on the top of her head, and threw her to the guard who had opened the door.
"Take her away. Get her cleaned up, and get her a prison uniform. There's no hurry to get her clothed, though. Feel free to take your time with her." The guard smiled knowingly, and Jennifer Bruce watched, triumphantly, as Captain Cynthia Crane was dragged off to her fate.
Well, there you have it. We did eventually post a "summary" that sort of wrapped things up (the princess is rescued, Cynthia is cleared, the bad girls to go jail). As I say, I hope to have Cynthia star in her own story someday soon!