At the Office

By Mel

What was I doing, working in the office so early on a Saturday morning - and on my birthday, too?

Well, it was partly my fault, I suppose.  There was a vitally important project I was the lead researcher for, and it was all very hush-hush and urgent.  Our competitors would really love to see what I was doing.  I wasn't allowed to take any of the papers out of the office, so I couldn't work at home.  Anyway, there would be a review meeting in the office in a few hours.  Yes, it really was so urgent that all the bigwigs were coming in on a Saturday, too, though of course nothing like so early as I'd done.  So it was my fault I hadn't stayed late enough last night to finish it.

Needing a quick break, I turned round in my swivel chair, and looked out of the window at the almost totally deserted car park.  A car drew up and a man got out.  He seemed to be quite tall and muscular, and he had a beard and sunglasses.  Odd that anyone would need to wear sunglasses on an overcast morning.  He was carrying a holdall.  Who was he?  Well, I'd better get on with my work.

With probably nobody else on my floor, there were no distractions about, and I was soon progressing much faster than I had the previous day.  Indeed, I had nearly finished by the time that I heard a loud knock at the door.  "Come in," I called, wondering who on earth it could be.  In came the man from the car park, carrying a hold-all.  Seen up close, he looked quite a hunk, with well-muscled arms and a flat stomach.  He was still wearing his wrap-round sunglasses, even indoors, and I could see that his beard was a fake.  I also noticed that he was wearing cotton gloves.

"Hello," he said, in a rich and friendly voice.  I was so startled to see him that for a minute I just stared.  He looked back with what seemed through the beard to be a warm smile.

"Let me guess," I said.  "You're a stripper.  The guys remembered it was my birthday today so they sent you as a surprise treat."

"No, no, I'm not a stripper ... I'm ... er ... I'm a magician.  Watch!"  He put his hand into his bag and pulled out a length of white rope.  "Now, if you'd like to be my assistant, I'll tie you to your chair and then I can show you a trick."

Well, I'd wanted to be a magician's assistant ever since I was a little girl, and all the other kids had magicians at their birthday parties and of course it was always the birthday child who got to be the assistant.  I'd never ever had a magician at my birthday party and I'd always resented it.  Here at last was my chance.  I had very nearly finished my work, so I could spare some time for this.

"I'm going to start by wrapping up your fingers in sticky tape so you won't be able to undo any knots," he explained.  "Hold your hands out, please."  I did so, and he put the rope in his pocket, took a roll of wide parcel tape from his bag, and wrapped it very tightly around my fingers.  He soon had my fingers absolutely useless and immobilised.

"If you'll just stand up, please, and step away from the chair a second," he said.  I did so, and he stood behind me.  "Now, just put your hands together behind your back, palms pressed firmly together."  He wrapped the rope tightly round my wrists, and then put a couple of turns at right angles to the loops, making the rope even tighter.  Then he wrapped more sticky tape around my hands, so that they had to remain pressed together.

"Now, we're really going to do this properly," he continued, getting more rope and wrapping it around my elbows.  He spent a little time pushing my elbows closer and tightening the rope.  "Hey, you can get your elbows to touch.  That's cool!"  It was a bit of a strain having my arms in that position, with my shoulders forced back.  Also, it made me thrust out my breasts, so my blouse got a bit tight at the front.

"Now, we need to make sure this elbow rope can't slip off too easily," he said.  He wrapped more rope around the elbow tie, and fastened it in front, just below my unnaturally protruding breasts.  He then put some turns round my lower arms and waist, pulling the rope tight.  This pinned my arms to my back, depriving them of all freedom.

"Can you just sit down on the chair and lean back," he asked.  I did so, and soon there were tight coils of rope, above and below my breasts, pinning me to the high chair back.  My already immobilised arms were trapped between my body and the chair, and I was sitting on my hands, which was rather uncomfortable.

"Let's see to your legs next.  We'll tie your knees together."  He soon had them pressed together with yet more rope from his bag.  How much of that stuff did he have?

"Now, your skirt's in the way; hold on."  He pushed the hem of my skirt up to my waist.  I was a bit embarrassed that he could probably see my panties, but we were on our own and nobody else could see us.  He then wrapped several turns of rope around my thighs and the seat, pinning me even more tightly to the chair.

"The next bit might be easier if we remove your shoes."  He did that, then pulled my feet back and tied my ankles together, wrapping the rope around the chair support.  My feet were now well clear of the floor.  I could hardly move any part of my body, being secured so thoroughly to the chair.

"Close your eyes tightly."  I did so, and felt him pressing large blobs of cold goo on them, filling my eye sockets.  I then felt something being wrapped tightly around and around my head.  "This is just a bandage to hold this stuff in place.  It probably feels a little cold at the moment, but that won't last.  You know, it's amazingly difficult to blindfold someone completely, but this works very well."  He was right; not a glimmer of light was reaching my eyes.

"Open your mouth, please."  I did so, and in went something that felt like a balloon.  Ah, balloons, I thought, with a shiver of excitement - the conjuring must be about to start!  I felt a strap going across my cheeks, being pulled tight and buckled behind the back of my neck.  "I'm just going to pump this up."  Hurrah, I was right; it was a balloon!  But my elation was short-lived.  The thing rapidly got bigger and bigger until it filled my mouth to bursting.  It pressed down on my tongue, and went right to the back of my mouth, nearly choking me.  It was most uncomfortable, and I was very effectively gagged.

To my great relief, he eventually stopped pumping.  But then there was a new sensation, as I felt something being wrapped around my cheeks and jaw.  "This is a muzzle," he explained.  "It makes the gag even more effective."  He tugged and pulled to make the thing as tight as he could.  It immobilised my jaw, and pushed in my cheeks that had swollen out because of the thing in my mouth.

He tipped up my chair and laid it flat on the floor.

"I'll just secure your chair to the legs of your desk ... There.  You won't be able to move the chair ... And now for my trick.  I'll print off this report that you've been doing, and I'll make it all vanish."

I went rigid with shock.  He was an industrial spy, and he was stealing my work!  And I had willingly let him make me completely helpless, so I could do nothing to stop him.  I struggled to free myself, but it was futile.  I made as much noise as I could, but I knew even as I did it that there would be nobody nearby who could hear me.  The security guards would all be in the foyer, three stories below.  The printer chugged away for a few minutes, and then went silent.  I heard the man walk out, and the door being locked behind him.

There I lay, immobile, blind and speechless.

It would probably be hours before anyone came to look for me.

The End

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