CAPTIVE
by
Brian Sands
Author’s Note
‘Captive’ was published in the August issue of Bondage Life, Volume 1, Number 5, 1979, pp. 10-12, 69-73. It was my third short story in that year. In it, I experimented writing in the first person, rather than in the third person ‘omniscient author’ style. The character of Ronnie, now Rona, was re-introduced. It follows one of my set pieces, that of the innocent heroine held by two criminals, a man and woman. She is kept bound and gagged in a variety of basements, cellars, boat houses and attics for her own good, and sometimes she manages to escape their clutches only to be recaptured. From the late-1970s to the mid-1980s — the period in which these stories were written - this plot was used in ‘Held to Ransom,’ and ‘A Heroine in Lace.’ It appears again, but with crucial differences, in ‘Mia Chantal in Jeopardy.’ I hope readers enjoy this revision of an old story.
The illustrations for Captive are from the following sources: 1. Thematic header from Die Die My Darling 2. Beginning to Part One, detail from an Italian film (Grumpys site) 3. End to Part One, detail of bound wrists from a Grumpy scan 4. Beginning to Part Two, tape gag, detail from Kill Kill Overkill, Grumpys site 5. End of Part Two, Bound legs, detail from comic cover, from an In DiDs scan
CAPTIVE
by
Brian Sands
Part One: In the House of Pines
I had been working all afternoon over the word processor when I realized with a start that I had not replid to Peggy’s emailed invitation to spend a weekend in her country cottage. It was Friday and already an hour after everyone in the office had left. I was too late to catch Peggy at her office and there was no reply to my insistent phone calls to her apartment. Cursing softly about the lost opportunity to relax over the coming long weekend, I shuffled the pages of a partly completed manuscript into a folder, locked it away in a desk drawer, covered the word processor, and bolted for my car.
Working late meant that I had missed the heaviest traffic crowds, which ws at least one small consolation for a tiring week. On my way up to my apartment, I picked up my mail from the box in the lobby, and when at leisure I sorted it in my lounge room, there among the bills was Peggy’s note.
‘Dear Rona,’ it read, Sorry I missed you this week but I did not forget our date. I know how busy you are, especially now at publishing time, and I guess that a rest in the country will do you good. I can’t make it for a day or so — sick relative - but you can make yourself at home whenever you like.’ And she gave the address. I was reprieved from a boring three days in my rooms.
Cheerfully, I prepared a light meal and when that was eaten I showered and freshened up. It did not take long to pack my bag. Changes of underclothes, a handful of scarves, a slack suit, a sweater, blouse and a spare pair of shoes went in.
I slipped into underwear, bra, panties, suspender belt and stockings - all the one colour in translucent brown - and slipped on a comfortable loose-fitting dress which passed equally well for late afternoon wear and travelling. It was one of my favourites. Narrow-waisted, it had plenty of billowing skirt, long wide sleeves to the wrists, and buttoned up the front like a shirt. I gathered the waist in with a wide black belt which went well with the blue of the dress.
I enjoyed the brushing across my thighs of the light satin fabric as I moved, the silky nylon of my stockings complementing the sensuous feel of the material. I was unashamedly feminine, sensuous, and enjoyed good clothes, though I could be pretty redoubtable at work. I knotted a wisp of pink silk at my throat, slipped on a medium pair of blue high-heeled shoes, grabbed my case and was off again.
Peggy’s rented country house was a good way from the city and it took two hours of fast driving to reach the locality. I had a map and Peggy’s directions were precise so I had no difficulty finding the place. It stood alone on a hill side and appeared to be almost the only dwelling in sight except for another across the opposite side of the broad valley almost entirely hidden by tall trees. I could see only part of the roof and chimney through a gap in the stand of pines.
I wasted no time settling in. The key was where Peggy had said it would be, the power was on, there was food in the refrigerator, and all rooms were spacious and thickly carpeted. The one I chose as my bedroom was upstairs and looked towards the house in the trees opposite. I put my suitcase on the bed, opened it and spread out my clothes, but before I packed them away in the wardrobe and dressing-table drawers I sat luxuriously in the old cushioned rocking chair in front of my window. I did not bother to turn on the light. Instead I sat still and drank in the beauty of the twilight.
I must have drifted off to sleep for some time, because when next I opened my eyes both the room and the out-of-doors were in darkness. A glimmer of light across the valley was all that I could make out. I looked at my wrist watch and saw that it was 11:30. I switched on the bedroom light, walked down to the kitchen where I prepared a mild dry vermouth, and sat at the kitchen table to write a letter.
As I wrote, I began to feel uneasy. It was irrational, but the house was very quiet — almost too quiet - and there was no breeze or sound of bird or animal to break the stillness. I decided that I was just not used to the country. Its silence after the rush and hurry of the city weighed heavily in the air.
Then I heard the soft hum of a car’s motor in the distance. The sound grew louder and I expected any moment for it to pass. It stopped. The house I was in was the only one on this side of the valley so I must be receiving a late night visitor.
All at once I grew alarmed, and leaving the kitchen table I moved to the front door where I fastened the short latch chain. At the same time there was the sound of steps coming up the gravel path. I waited. The unseen visitor paused then knocked. I gave some time before answering. Then, taking a deep breath, I opened the door a fraction and switched on the porch light. Standing slightly dazzled in its glow was a short and paunchy middle-aged man, balding and with a small moustache, the picture of middle-aged, middle-class hen pecked manhood.
‘Excuse me,’ he began diffidently, ‘My wife and I are new to the district and we’re having trouble finding our destination.’ His voice paused, almost faltered before each long word he uttered. He went on in a kind of monotone, ‘If we could have directions …’
I let my breath out with relief, ‘Certainly. I’ll get a map.’ I ran up to the bedroom only to remember that the map would most likely still be in the car. Back at the front door I unfastened the latch and opened the door wider. ‘Would you like to come in for a moment? I have to fetch the map from my car.’ The man thanked me and waddled into the room.
It did not take long before I was back. The fellow was standing awkwardly in the center of the room and I had almost to convince him that it was permissible to sit in the chair. After much apologizing for disturbing me at that late hour, he sat down.
I spread the map out on the coffee table and we soon found that the house he was looking for was indeed the one on the other side of the valley. I offered to lend him the map.
‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘We shan’t have difficulty finding the turnoff. But would you like to meet my wife?’ I followed him to their car. ‘Dear, this is …’ He paused. ‘My friends call me Rona,’ I said, cutting through the moment.
‘Pleased to meet you, Rona,’ said the woman, and we shook hands.
She was tall and angular with a high bobbed blue rinse hairdo, just the kind of woman I would have associated with that man. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I turned to go but she called me back.
‘Look … Rona, I know it’s late but what the hell, we’re on holiday. Won’t you come down for a drink with us and our friends? Only a few minutes …’
I hesitated, then, ‘Okay. I’ll use my car so you don’t have to go to the trouble of driving me back,’ and I followed them after switching out the lights in the house.
The house on the other side was much larger than I had thought from a distance. With an upper story, it sprawled across a wide area bounded by the pine trees on every side. These people like their privacy, I said to myself.
The husband and wife were standing in the lighted doorway by the time I walked up from where I had parked my car. The man made an exaggerated bow, ushering me into a large marble-paved anteroom. Behind me the woman closed the heavy door.
I was led into the sitting-room and the fat man carefully prepared me a drink and fussily settled me into one of the armchairs. The woman entered and spread her hands in an apology.
‘It seems our friends have not arrived yet, so we’re in the same boat.’ I had told them that I was waiting for my girlfriend to show up within a day or two.
It was the husband’s tum to leave the room to do further unpacking, and the woman, Mrs. Bavaglia, sat and chatted with me. I began to feel drowsy and, taking up my carry-bag, I prepared to leave.
‘Oh but you're not going yet are you?’ she asked.
‘I’d better,’ I replied, ‘You and your husband have to unpack, and I must finish mine too. Thank you for the drink. I think it’s made me sleepy.’
‘Will these do, dear?’ said the husband suddenly from the door behind me.
There was something strained about his voice. It was not as indecisive as it had been before. I turned. He was standing in the doorway and his hands held several lengths of thin cord.
The wife came up behind me and steely claw-like hands gripped my arms, pulling them back.
‘Yes, they will do very well,’ she purred.
For some reason I felt weak. I wanted to pull away but there was no strength in my effort to break her grip.
‘I don’t understand,’ I cried. ‘Let me go. A joke’s a joke, but I have to finish unpacking too,’ I said a trifle foolishly.
Mr. and Mrs. Bavaglia looked at each other and there was something about their silence that I did not like.
‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question, Rona,’ said the husband. ‘You see, we can’t have you around where you might spoil our plans.’
‘What plans?’ I asked.
Again I tried to pull away from the woman. I had no success. My arms were held rigidly and my legs seemed to have turned to water.
Ignoring my question, Mr. Bavaglia went on, ‘Don't give us any trouble There’s nothing that you need to know except that we expect you to do exactly what we tell you. You have been drugged, mildly, so you won’t give any fight. And if you do what we tell you, dear, you won’t be hurt. Turn her around,’ he ordered his wife.
I was turned about as though I was a marionette with no will of my own, and my arms were gathered together behind my back. My wrists were crossed and held firmly together by the woman while her husband wound the cord about them. I tried to flinch away but already three windings had been made.
‘My, you have slender wrists,’ remarked my male captor, ‘I’ll have to make sure they’re well tied. I’ll wind them around her cuffs too,’ he said to his wife, ‘to stop her tender skin from being too badly chafed, but it will be very tight.’
He suited the actions to the words and I felt my fingers tingle.
It was done swiftly and the couple stepped back, releasing me with such suddenness that I nearly fell. I took a faltering pace towards the door but the woman shook her head with mock sorrow.
‘Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,’ she smirked, ‘Sorry we have to frighten you like this. You’re not important to us but we will have to keep you here for the next few days until our affairs are settled. We won’t be able to keep you drugged all the time so it will be necessary to gag that pretty mouth of yours.’
‘The girl’s too heavily sedated to cry out,’ remarked the husband, ‘Let’s just tie her and get on with our work.’
‘All the same,’ Mrs Bavaglia insisted, ‘she should be lightly gagged, as a precaution. We don’t know how soon the effects of the drug will wear off.’
A white chiffon scarf was taken from my own handbag, folded into a band, and tied tightly across my mouth. I was then led out into a corridor and up some wide stairs. They had almost to carry me the remaining distance into a narrow room that I found later was the house’s attic. In it there was an old table, three heavy chairs with straight narrow backs, a dresser and wash basin, and a narrow mattress in the corner smelling of must.
A blanket was thrown over the mattress and I was laid down on it. The drug I had taken with the wine was having more effect. I was too disoriented to slip free from the flimsy scarf bound over my mouth, and was only vaguely conscious of the husband tying my ankles together. When the light was switched off and the door closed, darkness flooded into my head and I knew nothing more.
I must have slept there all night, for when I finally opened my eyes there was sunlight streaming through the small window. My head ached abominably from the drug, some kind of sleeping tablet, and my arms, legs and body felt stiff. There was some feeling in my hands but they tingled whenever I tried to close my fingers. My arms ached from being fixed behind me for so long.
I rolled with difficulty onto my side and looked around the narrow sordid little room. My suitcase stood against a wall. There were several coils of cord on the table. I shuddered. It was like a bad dream. My mouth felt dry and the gag, which had slipped between my teeth during sleep, itched and proved impossible to slip off over my chin.
It must have been an hour later when I heard footfalls on the steps outside. A key turned in the lock and the narrow door opened. Mr. Bavaglia stood there. Without a word he stepped in, knelt beside me and, after rolling me over, inspected my bonds. He grunted with satisfaction and untied the gag.
‘Can … can I have a drink of water?’ I asked.
Still without speaking, he went to the basin and poured some water from it into a tin mug. Returning, he sat me up and while supporting my back with one arm held the mug to my lips. I drank gratefully. My ankles were released and I was allowed to walk out to a bathroom. It was wonderful to have my hands free but I had to hurry while he waited impatiently outside the unlocked door. When helping me to my feet his pudgy hands had strayed along the calf of my leg and I felt revolted and frightened by him.
I made no resistance when my wrists were bound behind me as before, and I walked docilely back to the room in the roof. I was soon sitting on the old mattress again with my ankles tied tightly together, the cords cinched in between them so that they held without any chance of slipping. My wrists were tied in a very tight criss-cross that made movement almost impossible.
Before he left, he opened my suitcase and after rummaging through it came up with a very long yellow-patterned white satin scarf. He folded it over a couple of times and knelt beside and a little behind me. I turned my head away.
‘Please, I don’t want to be gagged again. I won’t cry out, I promise. You don’t have to gag me,’ I pleaded.
The idea frightened me. At least with my mouth free I could reason with my captors. Being gagged removed the last freedom I had, now that I was securely bound hand and foot like a heroine in one of those movie serials I used to watch as a kid.
‘I’m afraid I must,’ he replied, ‘It won’t hurt too much, and this is a clean cloth, your own scarf. Don’t make me force it on you more than I have to.’ With tears stinging my eyes I turned my head back reluctantly. ‘That’s a good decision. Now put your head back and open your mouth.’ I obeyed. The thick but narrow strip of satin was drawn in between my teeth and the ends tied behind my neck. ‘Bend your head forward.’
Again I obeyed, and the single knot was pulled tight and doubled. The cloth was right between my teeth like the bit on a horse and I almost choked on it. There were still two long ends of it and one was wound around and drawn similarly between my teeth. This next layer filled the front part of my mouth. Finally, the remaining end was stretched taut across my cheeks and jaw and over my lips and mouth. The two ends were once again tied very tightly at the back of my neck after I had been made to bend my head forward a second time. I could neither open nor close my mouth properly and the slick but so tight material made breathing difficult. There was no sound I could make which would penetrate beyond the walls of the room. My captor pushed me back down onto the mattress and left me, locking the door behind him.
I tested the cords at my wrists and ankles and ineffectually tossed my head from side to side in an attempt to loosen the gag. The thought of being left for hours like this filled me with a panic that I could hardly fight back. After an hour of struggling I lay spent and crying. My face felt feverish from the gag’s tightness and my head pounded unbearably. There was no way out of the bonds. I had proved that. My stretching fingers found only empty air. The knots were well out of reach. I thought about cutting my bonds on something. There was a mirror over the dresser and the water basin was cheap china. But the sound of something breaking would only bring one of my captors and I would be worse off than ever.
I decided there were only two things I could do. First, if both the husband and wife left the house, I could break the basin and free myself, once they were out of earshot. Secondly, I could wait until a visitor chanced by and try to attract their attention by either making a noise or signalling through the window. I decided to wait for one of these chances. There was nothing else I could do.
To be continued …
CAPTIVE
by
Brian Sands
Part Two: In the Old Attic
Lying on my side with my head raised, I listened for any sound from the rooms below that might indicate whether my captors were leaving the house. Slowly the time dragged by. There was an alarm clock on the dresser and I watched the hands crawl around its face. At three o’clock there was a sound in the hallway, a key turned in the lock and Mr. Bavaglia padded softly into the room. He kneeled beside me and inspected my gag and the bonds at my wrists and ankles. I shrank away from the touch of his hands as they explored the line of my neck and my thighs revealed by the soft satin skirt. He leaned closer and I whuffled involuntarily through the cloth filling my mouth. His attentions were stopped by an impatient call from his wife below the stairs and hurriedly he rose, brushed off the dust that had gathered on his knees, and left the room. A few minutes later I heard the sound of the front door closing.
Struggling with difficulty to my feet, I hopped towards the small window. I had not dared to try it before in case I was heard. It was lucky that I was wearing shoes with heels not as high as usual for the evening. I was able to balance easier and when I reached the window the wall offered greater support. The glass was grimy but I was able to see enough onto the front drive as they drove away. My own car was not in sight. It must have been secreted somewhere else close to the house.
I realized suddenly how hopeless it would be if I could not escape. There would have been no sign of my presence at the other house and Peggy would assume that I did not get her message or had decided not to join her. Would they kidnap Peggy like they had done with me? Prohably not, I decided. I guessed the couple believed I had seen that this house was being used, and whatever their scheme was it was obviously against the law and they would be more careful not to be seen in future.
And another thing, they might not be gone for long. I looked around quickly and, taking short hops, made my way along the front edge of the dresser until my back was to the wash basin. I could still use my arms and in a couple of seconds the bowl lay shattered on the floor. It took me a long time but finally I managed to saw one strand of the cord about my wrists against a large broken piece so that it parted. For a moment I did not realize that my hands were free, then I tore with numbed fingers at the cloth wound between my teeth.
Agonizingly, I worked the knots of my gag loose one by one until the creased material fell away from my face at last. My mouth felt dry and my jaw ached. My lips felt numb and the corners of my mouth and my cheeks were sore and chafed. By then circulation had returned to my fingers and it did not take as long to free my ankles.
I had to hold myself against the table when I took my first steps towards the door, then as I grasped the handle my heart froze. It was still locked. Bending down, I looked through the keyhole and saw that the key had been left in the lock. There was an old trick that I had learned when I was young, that if you slipped a sheet of newspaper under a door it was possible to poke the key out of the lock so that it fell onto the paper, which was then drawn back into the room. There were some old newspapers under the mattress and the trick worked. I was free.
For a moment I debated whether to take my suitcase with me. It was light so I decided in favor of the idea, and cautiously I descended the stairs to the large hallway that became virtually a room towards the front door. The house was in silence as I slipped through the door into daylight and freedom. It was after four o’clock. I had taken an hour to free myself of the bonds and this knowledge together with the uncertainty about whether the husband and wife would return gave me wings.
I ran down the gravel path and then onto the grass verge beside it so that my footfalls did not sound too loud. I was halfway to the main entrance, which was hidden from my sight around a bend, when I heard the motor of the returning car. Quickly I flung myself behind a large shrub and waited, holding my breath. The engine’s sound died a moment - they were probably opening the gate - and then grew louder and drew closer. I buried my face in the soft grass as the dark shape of the car passed within a few feet of me.
It had no sooner passed out of sight than I scrambled to my feet and ran on towards the main road. In a few minutes they would discover that I was gone and would be searching for me. I reached the bend in the track and saw the gate ahead, closed as I had expected. I stumbled towards it.
Then, as I crossed a flat area of grass, the figure of the pudgy man emerged from behind a tree directly in front of me. Before I could think I had run into his arms. He may have been gross in size but he was also very strong and I was exhausted from running and paralyzed by the shock. He wasted no time in overpowering me. As the woman backed the car up the track to us, I stood drooping, my arms held tight behind me, a white handkerchief bound fast across my lips. I was bundled into the back of the car with my suitcase. As we drove on towards the house my wrists were bound together in front of me with a length of twine. The sharp scratchy fibers of the hemp bit painfully into my flesh and I gave no resistance after that.
They had seen a glimpse of me as I ran from the house and when they stopped the car to open the gate the husband remained lying in wait for me. It was a simple plan and they executed it neatly. I was their prisoner again.
‘You nearly got away from us, Rona, and that would have been the worse for us,’ said Mrs. Bavaglia, ‘so we’ll make sure it can’t happen again. And you,’ she said to her husband, ‘go and find more rope, plenty of it, and some of that black gaffer’s tape. When we’ve finished with you my pretty,’ she said, returning her attention to me, ‘you’ll be taped up and trussed so tight you won’t twitch a muscle.’
There was spitefulness in her voice and she kept to her word. I was hustled up the stairs and brought once more into the attic room and made to sit down in one of the chairs. The woman snatched up the piece of cord which had been used to tie my ankles - the other piece had been cut too short - and dragged my arms behind me and around the back of the chair. I was pulled hard against the chair-back so that I had to sit very straight with my spine upright and my shoulders drawn back. My wrists were tied once again in a criss-cross over the cuffs of my sleeves.
By that time the husband came puffing in carrying several more coils of clothesline. Thinner cord lay on the table that they had forgotten at first, and by then the woman was tying my ankles together with one long piece. The husband watched while she tied my legs together above the knees. Next she took one of the coils of clothesline from him and wound it tight around my waist and the chair-back. She did the same with two other lengths, winding around my body just below my breasts and just above the elbows with one, and around my chest and upper arms above my breasts with the other, fastening them behind. Yet another length of clothesline was wound tightly three times over my thighs, across my lap and around the seat of the chair. Finally my ankles were lashed securely to one of the chair legs so that I had to sit with my legs slanted a little to one side.
It was most uncomfortable sitting wedged immovably in this position and I squirmed and wriggled, but nothing gave and all my struggles showed for it was a kind of shuddering of my body.
‘There, you moron,’ Mrs Bavaglia said to her husband, ‘That's how we should have fixed her before, so she can’t move about. And just to make doubly sure, give me that tape.’
She took from his hands a roll of black tape a little over two inches wide and, squatting down behind me, she wound it very tightly about six times around my already bound wrists.
All this time the handkerchief was glued tightly over my mouth. It was now untied and roughly pulled away. A glass of water was held to my lips and I took a few sips. Then my mouth was dried on a hand towel and a strip of tape about eight inches long was cut from the roll.
‘Tilt your head back and close your mouth with your lips together,’ ordered the woman.
I looked up at her. She stared down implacably at me, waiting. Again I had no choice but to obey. The heavy sticky cloth adhered immediately to my lips. The woman’s strong fingers pressed and kneaded it over the contours of my mouth, cheeks and jaw-line so that it sealed tight like a second skin almost from ear to ear. As an experiment for a short story thriller I had once allowed myself to be tied into a chair with my wrists strapped to its arm-rests for a few minutes, and with a piece of medical adhesive tape over my lips. That tape had been tight enough, but what now sealed my lips was pure horror. I simply could not move my lips at all. When I tried I succeeded only in hurting them. The workings of my jaw had no effect whatsoever in stretching or loosening the tape. Needless to say, the sound I could make through a tightly closed mouth was negligible.
‘That’s it, my girl’ said the husband as he wound up the clock on the dresser, ‘You won’t be moving from there in a hurry. If you need anything just scream,’ he added cruelly as they closed and locked the door behind them, taking the key.
I was left alone again to explore this new state of helplessness. The chair was too heavy for me to rock and anyway I had a fear of turning it over while I was unable to break my fall. The bindings bit painfully into the soft flesh of my upper arms and I was glad of the flimsy protection given by the sleeves of my dress, although it was not much. As a kind of reaction against the gag I found myself shaking my head uselessly from side to side. Eventually I stopped struggling. Straining was the right word, for I was so tightly secured that struggle was out of the question. My wrists felt as if they were held by iron bands because of the lack of flexibility in the tape. Still, I found that it was a little more comfortable to have my mouth taped shut than for it to be tied open with cloth as it had been before.
Sitting there, I had a clear view of the clock on the dresser, which now showed five-thirty. I could see also my reflection in the mirror. My auburn hair was tousled about my head and shoulders, there was a small bruise on my right cheek bone just above the broad strip of tape sealing my mouth, and the flimsy pink scarf at my throat was creased. The bruise had been sustained earlier when Mr. Bavaglia roughly tied the handkerchief across my face in the first moments of my recapture. I liked wearing crisp smooth clothes and the sight of myself in such disarray hurt my pride. One of the front buttons of my shirt-dress was lost and another had come unfastened so that some of the brown lace of my diaphanous bra showed through.
I felt hot, and a wash would have been welcome, but I knew from the thorough way in which I had been tied that my captors were unconcerned over my comfort. They had been earlier. Perhaps I should have remained bound hand and foot, quiet, giving them no trouble. But then, I was paying for my natural bid for freedom and I had to take the consequences of failure. At least I tried.
The present situation was quite hopeless. No matter how far I attempted to twist and turn, the bonds remained secure. Maybe the cord wound around my body and arms gave slightly, but that was only the knots being drawn imperceptibly tighter as I strained at them. There was insufficient slack to make escape at all possible. The same applied to the bindings around my waist and legs. As for my wrists, there was no way in the world that they could be freed by myself alone and unaided.
My attempts to call out through the tape at my mouth were ludicrous. It was possible only to make thin mewling sounds in my throat and head. In such an isolated house a more gallant captor might not have required that I be gagged, but these people were taking no further chances. After all, if a visitor was to come suddenly and knock at the door precious seconds would be lost getting to me before I could scream my head off. I saw the cold-hearted sense in how they were treating me though I hated every moment of it.
As twilight came, I could see the pine trees silhouetted against the graying sky through the window, and after an hour, flickering between their moving branches could be seen a light from Peggy’s house. It was so far away. I was frightened badly, my body ached from the rigid way in which I was bound to the chair. I was hot and feverish from the gag. More than anything else however, my feminine pride was hurt by the indignity of being roped-up in this way, and my whole spirit rebelled and shrank from the cords so tightly embracing me.
It must have been after nine o’clock that Mr. Bavaglia came up the stairs to check my bonds for the night. Before turning on the light, he drew a black shade over the window so that the presence of people in the house would not be advertised to the world outside. With trembling fingers he stroked my thighs and calves and fitted his hands over my breasts. I could feel him becoming more excited, his breathing heavier as his hands slipped further beneath my bra. I heaved in revulsion, or rather tried to do so. I could still do no more than quiver in the ropes.
Fortunately his time was short and in answer to a peremptory call from his wife he left me in peace. I sat in the dark, shivering, praying that he would not come later in the night. The blind had been left drawn over the window so there was not even the consolation of star light. I steeled myself to sit out the night, alone in darkness, cramped, stifled. I cried a little. And, surprisingly, I managed to drift off to sleep occasionally. Tied as I was however, most of the night was a sleepless torment.
I did not know for sure that morning had come until there was enough light outside for a thin ray to seep through a tear in the window-blind. Throughout the night I had sat with my head drooping. My neck was stiff. There seemed to be no feeling left in my arms.
A sound at the door made me lift my head. I had been so stupefied by the long enclosed night that I failed to hear one of my captors approaching up the stairs. This time it was the woman. Once again my bonds were inspected, and she stood looking at me with total satisfaction.
‘No tricks from you last night eh? Well,’ she continued, ‘Our work is nearly done and we will be gone by this afternoon - out of the country. So it doesn’t matter, by the way, that you’ve seen our faces. We’re not going to do you any harm. We promised that in the beginning you know.’
She stooped forward and stroked my hair. Her face was not so hard. ‘I know we’ve given you a rough time. That was because you tried to get away. I guess I can’t blame you. And I’ll tell you what we’re going to do now. You’ll be left here for a day or two. We catch a plane out tonight and before we leave we’ll post a letter to the police saying where you are. That should only take a day, so you should be free some time on Tuesday. You can have a meal and freshen up and change if you like. We’ll allow that much. But you’ll have to be tied again before we leave. Do you accept that?’ I nodded. ‘Good,’ she continued, ‘You can be out of those ropes for a couple of hours.’
Carefully and painfully, the tape was peeled away from my face. It was such a relief to breathe properly again that I ignored the stinging and the rawness that was left. The tape was removed from my wrists, and the remaining cords, and I was laid on the mattress until some of my strength came back. Water was brought to me, and food.
After about an hour I was steady enough to walk to the bathroom where a glorious hot shower washed a lot of my stiffness away. I took the opportunity to change into fresh clean clothes: bra, panties and suspender belt, light blue stockings and matching shoes, a smart crisp white blouse, blue satin skirt and narrow belt in black, and a matching blue business jacket. I remembered the pressure of the ropes on my arms and decided that the long sleeves of the blouse and jacket would cushion the bonds I had shortly to endure once more.
Feeling a lot better, I stepped out. Mrs. Bavaglia was waiting for me and I was escorted back to the attic room where the husband sat waiting in a chair. After some discussion, they decided that I could lie on the mattress. ‘You’ll be trussed so tight it won’t matter,’ said the woman.
I lay on my face at their bidding and obediently put my arms behind my back. My wrists were tied together crossed like before, and taped securely again. Cords were tied tightly around my arms above the elbows and they were drawn back and secured to my body, so that my arms were fixed immovably into the small of my back similar to how they had been when I was in the chair. Above and below my breasts and around my waist several windings were fastened. My ankles and legs above and below my knees were bound tight.
I would be able to roll from one side to the other with some difficulty, and even to sit up, with an effort, but my freedom of movement was extremely limited. However, the couple guessed that it might be possible for me to get to the mirror and break it or in some other way work myself free before the appointed time, so they very cleverly anchored me down to the mattress. A long piece of cord was tied around my arms just below my breasts and its ends passed right around the mattress where they were tied together. Another long piece was fastened in the same way around my ankles. These cords had sufficient slack in them to allow me to change my position occasionally, rolling from one side to the other. I was not lashed rigidly to the mattress although that would have been possible. I was glad of this and in a sense was now a willing prisoner. Knowing that I would not be harmed and would eventually be released made all the difference.
The couple went below and packed. I could hear them moving around in the house. They returned to inspect me for the last time.
‘She needs gagging,’ said Mr. Bavaglia.
‘I know,’ replied his wife, and she walked across to the table where the roll of black tape stood. ‘We can use this,’ she said, turning to me, ‘or a handful of your scarves. Whatever. We have to be sure you make no noise. Which is it to be?’
‘If I had a real choice I’d rather not be gagged at all,’ I replied, ‘Couldn’t you just leave me like this? The house is so isolated that nobody will hear me even if I did call for help.’
But all the woman did was shake her head sadly.
‘Don’t you understand? We can’t take any chances that you’ll get loose before the police find you. So make up your mind. What will it be, tape or silk?’
I thought how uncomfortable it was gagged with scarf and cloth the first time, as compared with tape overnight. Strangely, I could stand the tape better, provided I did not try to open my mouth against it.
‘Tape, please,’ I said in a small voice.
Defeated, I tilted my head back and lay with my eyes closed while my mouth and lips were sealed once again under the sticky unyielding material.
In a few minutes they were gone. They had left the key in the door this time, to taunt me. I had no hope of getting out of these bonds.
An hour of struggling proved that I was as helpless as I had been the previous night roped to the chair. I had been made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, and it had been a wise move to wear my jacket. The Sunday wore on. I tossed and turned and managed to sleep fitfully, catching up on the sleep lost the night before. I was distressed most by the tape at my mouth which made breathing always difficult, and by the end of the day I was feverish again. The blinds had been raised, so at night I could see the stars.
When morning came, I struggled anew at my bonds, and just as unsuccessfully. By midday I was exhausted and had gone into shock of some kind. I felt languid. There was nothing to be done but to await rescue, and that was another day off. The clock had run down and only the change from light to twilight to dark gave me any idea of the time that elapsed.
Another night, then morning. It was Tuesday. I lay still throughout the morning listening for any sound. The walls of the house were thick and not even the sounds of nature, the singing of birds or the wind, could be heard.
The afternoon crawled by. Evening came and still no rescue. I spent that night tossing and struggling intermittently in panic. When Wednesday came I was weak and thoroughly exhausted, and my throat was dry from thirst.
And then in the afternoon there was the sound of a car’s tires crunching on the gravel of the drive outside. I lifted my head unbelievingly.
Footsteps came heavily, and cautiously, up the stairs. The door opened. Amid a confused babble of voices I felt the cords fall away and fingers begin to work at a corner of the tape covering my mouth. I was free.
END