Meredith Chancellor bound and gagged, with shirt opened to reveal her bra. From Hank's site, blindfold added by Brian Sands.

The airport was in the middle of nowhere. Why, Meredith Chancellor thought, must planes always land so far away from town?.

There was a slight breeze in the air as she stepped out of the concourse, through the automatic sliding doors, and headed for the taxi rank. It was cold, and Meredith had not had time to change out of her work suit: its structured jacket concealed an off-white silk blouse, and her tight skirt stopped too short for comfort in that weather. She had dressed carefully, as she did every morning. Her neck was adorned with a favourite scarf in a paisley pattern and her feet were shod in high heels. Meredith dearly wished that she had an overcoat. To top it off, there was a delay at the taxi rank for several minutes. Meredith drummed her fingers on her handbag and waited as patiently as she could.

How does one who has spent all her working life in a professional capacity behave when she does what Meredith was about to do?

She tried to take her mind off the impending meeting by watching the family in front pile a huge number of bags into their taxicab. Then, as that taxi pulled away, she tucked her bag defensively beneath her arm and waited for the next cab to draw up beside her. But, as the next cab began to move, the one behind swerved around it and pulled up at Meredith's feet. The driver of the first cab swore vigorously at the interloper, a form of discourse that was enthusiastically returned. But having played the game of protest the would-be driver sat back and awaited the next fare.

Meredith stood motionless, unsure whether she should get into the trespasser's taxi or make a protest on behalf of the man behind.

'Here, ya gonna stan' around all day?' the driver objected.

Meredith, startled by this sudden announcement, looked at the taxicab behind. The driver there gestured at her aggressively, urging her to get on with it so that he could pick up the fare waiting behind. Meredith grimaced and, offering her destination to the driver, climbed into the back of the interloping cab.

The drive towards town quickly became uncomfortable. To begin with, Meredith watched the man adjust his interior mirror and then gulped as she realised that it was so that he could look at her legs. She tapped on the thick glass that partitioned the driver's cabin from the back seat, but the man only chuckled. Meredith tugged at her skirt hem for the second time that day, but to little avail. A minute later she noticed that they weren't going in the right direction.

Meredith sat bolt upright and banged even more loudly on the glass partition, but the cabby merely grinned more broadly. She grabbed at the door handle, but it was locked from the front by a device used to stop fare dodging. As she tried to attract the attention of passing traffic, Meredith noticed a sickly sweet smell. Minutes later she was slumped on the back seat, unconscious.

'She's not shown up,' Moira said into her mobile telephone. There was a pause at the other end, as Donald McEwen went off the line. Moira could hear voices at the other end, but she was unable to make out what was being said. 'I've checked,' he said after a minute or two. 'She was definitely on that plane.'

'Well, she's not here and she's an hour overdue.'

'Then where is she?'

'How should I know?'

'Done a bunk, perhaps.'

'Umm. Why go to all that effort to get here and then not show?'

'Lost her nerve, old girl. Overawed by her guilt.'

Moira reflected on that. 'Maybe the first of those. But it doesn't seem like her. What shall I do now?'

The line went dead again. This time, Moira could make out the tapping of a keyboard. 'I've booked you in at the Royal Oak,' Donald said presently. 'I need you up there. Just in case. Consider it a short holiday.'

This time the pause was at Moira's end. 'But, Donald. I haven't a thing to wear.'

'No bother, old Girl,' she heard him reply. 'Go shopping. On the house. Shall we say, up to a hundred quid.'

'A hundred and fifty and you're on.'

'Done. Report back as soon as you've settled in.'

Meredith came to slowly. She had no idea how much time had passed or where she was. She had been gassed, that was for sure: gassed by whatever substance made that sickly sweet smell.

In her half-conscious, half-unconscious state, she was aware that there was pressure on her eyes and jaw, that her arms and legs wouldn't move, and that the room was dark, ever so dark. She tried to sit up; but that failed. Then, as her senses began to unfog, she realised that the pressure on her eyes was from a blindfold. That was why the room seem so dark.

The pain round her mouth was caused by a tight gag. It was not the kind one sees in movies, where the heroine has a square of tape or a strip of cloth tied over her mouth. Meredith was aware that her mouth was full of something and that there was a cloth pulled between her teeth holding it in. Whatever was in her mouth made her want to choke and the cloth between her teeth was so tight that it cut into the sides of her mouth.

The gas may have been part of the reason why her arms and legs wouldn't move. But Meredith knew the main cause. She was tied up. Trapped in darkness, she tried to work out how she was bound. Her wrists were crossed behind her. Using her fingers, she could tell that the rope went both ways. And, try as hard as she might, she was quite unable to reach any of the knots. They must have been tied back out of her reach. Her legs were bound together at the ankles and knees. Meredith had the sudden, illogical anxiety that the new nylon tights she had put on that morning would be laddered.

Still dazed by the gas, Meredith lay there motionless until panic overtook her. Afraid that she would choke on the gag, she began to fight it, and that in turn produced the retching that she needed to avoid. As she retched, she began to struggle with the ropes. But that only made the choking sensation worse. With a great effort of will, Meredith forced herself to lie still. She tried to occupy her thoughts otherwise. She could see nothing. And she could hear nothing. But at least she could smell.

The cloying smell from the taxicab had begun to leave her. Instead, it was replaced with an old-fashioned sort of musty smell, as if she was in a warehouse that had once housed leather-bound books. Beneath her were floorboards, so she was likely to be in a proper room, rather than in a warehouse or a cellar, which would probably have a concrete floor.

These thoughts seemed to help. Her panic died down. Slowly and painfully, she began to work out how she was tied. Using her fingers to feel the ropes around her wrists, Meredith counted one, two, three, four, five turns of rope. The rope was coarse and felt like sisal. But it was stiff and without any give. More rope ran around the first windings, between her wrists, cinching the ropes tight so that they formed a pair of hemp handcuffs.

Pulling her ankles up, Meredith reached for the rope around her ankles. It was the same consistency and had been applied equally tightly, also with cinching. Meredith counted four turns around her ankles. Then, she struggled to find the knot that secured them, only to discover that it was well out of her reach at the front of her ankles.

Still, she might get free. Meredith began to plan how she could release herself. She had never been tied up before. But that did not mean that she had no idea how she might get free. Her wrists were tied well and truly tight. But at least her arms were not fastened to her body in any way. So there was some possibility that she could wriggle free. If she could get her wrists down over her bottom, and then pull her ankles through them, she might get the gag and blindfold off with her fingers and then use her teeth to pick the knots on her wrists. Having her knees tied was an added impediment; but not one that was insurmountable. It might work. After all, she had always been agile.

But the plan would have to wait.

Meredith could hear people approaching. Only now that people were about to arrive, did Meredith think to assess the state of her clothing. What she found was not at all reassuring. She still had her clothes. But her jacket was gone, and one of her shoes had fallen off. Worse than that, her skirt was rucked up around the tops of her thighs and the middle button of her shirt had come undone. She only wore a bra beneath the shirt and she was sure it must show. Quickly she tried to wriggle her skirt back down, but to no avail. All Meredith achieved was to open a second button, the one immediately below the one that was already undone. Meredith was sure that glimpses of her white bra must now be visible.

As soon as her visitors arrived, Meredith lay still, hoping that they would think that she was still unconscious and give something away, perhaps even untie her.

'There she is, Miss Prowd,' a man said. Meredith could not be sure, but it sounded like the phony taxi driver. 'Nicely trussed up. Just as Her Ladyship ordered.'

'Well done, Dworkins,' the woman said in a well-educated voice. 'Where are her bag and jacket?'

'I put 'em in the boot of the car, just as you said to, Miss Prowd,' the man answered. 'But there was no file in them.'

'Not unexpected,' the woman said. 'And there are none on her either, by the look of things. Have you searched her?'

'No, Miss Prowd. I didn't think Her Ladyship would approve.'

'Quite right, Dworkins. I'm sure Lady Marchment will want to give Miss Chancellor a very thorough search herself. Still, I had better give her a quick once over.'

Up until this point, Meredith kept quiet. Now, however, she jerked involuntarily.

'Why, I do think that our guest is awake, Dworkins.' Without waiting for Dworkins to offer any comment on that remark, Miss Prowd began to search Meredith.

Unable to object, the young woman could only lie there while fingers probed her bra through her silken shirt and then moved first over her bottom and loins over her clothes and then up her skirt. Beneath the gag and blindfold, Meredith had gone a beetroot red from the intimacy of the search. She wondered how "Her Ladyship" could be any more thorough than that.

'Nothing,' Miss Prowd announced when she had finished.

Meredith felt her chest heave as a consequence of the woman's touch. Fortunately, the rest of her buttons stayed done up. 'Shall I put her back in the car now, Miss Prowd?'

'No, Dworkins,' the woman answered. 'Her Ladyship wants her kept away from the house overnight so that she can be sure that the coast is clear. It won't be comfortable for her here. But she'll just have to make do. She may even find the floor here preferable to what Her Ladyship has in mind for her. Keep her tied up and gagged, just in case. And, I know that her Ladyship said that it wouldn't matter if she saw our faces. But keep her blindfolded anyway.'

Meredith shivered. She really didn't like the sound of that. Angrily, she began to struggle with her ropes.

'I'd advise you to not to do that, Miss Chancellor,' the woman said, speaking to Meredith for the first time. 'Dworkins has done a good job tying you. But believe me, we can do better, and we will do if you try to escape.'

Meredith stopped as suddenly as she'd started.

'Good girl,' the woman said, rather patronisingly. 'Now, we're going to leave you for a bit, Miss Chancellor. Even if you can untie yourself, I doubt very much if you'll get out of this room. And working that gag off won't do you a bit of good either. You can shout all you like. No one will hear you. And if we come back and find that you've got yourself free, we'll only bind and gag you even more thoroughly. Take my advice and stay put. We should be back in a few hours.'

'Mmpphhh, mmpphhhh, nnnnaaargggghhh,' Meredith protested. She was thirsty, her mouth felt like sandpaper, and her shirt was half undone. How could they leave her like that. 'Nnaaargghhhmmmpph,' she groaned, reiterating her disapproval once again.

It turned out to be quite a mistake.

'Can't you do as you're told?' Miss Prowd demanded crossly. Meredith felt the woman's fingers on the remaining fastened buttons of her shirt. But they didn't undo them. Instead, they pulled them off. Meredith felt cold air on her chest and midriff as the woman opened her shirt.

'Oh, such a pretty white lace bra,' Miss Prowd said. Meredith felt the woman's hands on the silky skin on the top of her exposed breasts.

'What do you think of her breasts, Dworkins?'

'Not bad. Miss Prowd. Not bad at all.'

Meredith felt her scarf pulled from around her neck. At first, and to her horror, she thought that they were going to strip her completely. But instead, the woman unknotted the fastening of her gag, where it pushed into the back of her neck.

'You'd better start getting used to this,' Miss Prowd continued, the anger still in her voice. 'I doubt if you'll spend very much time ungagged in the foreseeable future.' She peeled the gag from between Meredith's lips.

Instinctively, Meredith began to push the packing out of her mouth with her tongue.

'Oh, no you don't,' the woman said, pressing her palm over Meredith's mouth to prevent her ejecting the cloth. 'That stays in.' There was a pause. 'And this goes in with it.' Meredith retched as a fresh lump of cloth was added to the original in her mouth, magnifying her woes considerably. She struggled to cope with the fresh intrusion while the woman tied something tight at the back of her neck. Then a new piece of cloth went over her whole mouth. That, too, was secured, ever so tightly, at her nape. 'Now, this time do as you're told and sit still,' Miss Prowd concluded. Meredith sat still. She sat very still. The new packing in her mouth stretched her jaw horribly and made her want to choke.

'As I was saying,' Miss Prowd continued, 'we'll be back in a few hours. And if you want to keep that bra of yours on, I'd try and behave.'

Moira placed her small bundle of purchases onto the bed and surveyed the room. It wasn't bad at all. There was a small bowl of fruit and a packet of shortbread by the side of the telephone, and a smart writing desk in the corner. The double bed looked comfortable. Moira took off her cashmere coat, hung it in the wardrobe and sat on the edge of the bed. Then she phoned Donald McEwen using her cell phone.

'I'm in room 407,' she announced when she heard his familiar upper-class lilt. 'I'm on stand-by for orders.'

'Fine. How did the shopping expedition go?'

Moira paused. 'Not bad, Donald. You only owe me a hundred and seventy six pounds.'

'I thought we said a hundred and fifty?'

'We did. But you know clothes don't come cheap and I might be here for a day or so.'

Donald groaned theatrically in the background; then chuckled.

'All right,' he said. 'But you'll have to go easy on supper.'

Now, Moira chuckled. 'Don't worry, Donald. I'll probably need to diet to look good in the dress I've bought.'

There was something nagging at the back of Moira's mind. They talked over the case for a while, while she tried to force it to the forefront. Then it came.

'Donald, if someone's snatched Meredith Chancellor, how did they know where to find her?'

'Who says she's been snatched? I still think she's in on it.'

But if she has been, how did they know? Who could have leaked?'

'Only you and I, and three others at this end knew, Moira. Doesn't that suggest to you, she's in on it?'

'I'm still not convinced. But worse still, I'm now convinced that there's a leak.'

Meredith lay there, bound and gagged, in silent darkness, wondering what to do.

It was quite a dilemma. If she did nothing, she would still be here when they returned, and then what might they or Lady Marchment do to her? She already had some hints. Lady Marchment would search her even more thoroughly than the humiliation she had just experienced, and would make her even less comfortable than lying bound, gagged, and blindfolded on an rough, bumpy and scratchy floor.

What if she tried to escape, but could not get out? Then what? They would only tie her up, even more thoroughly and gag her even more securely.

Escape or surrender. Those were the options with which Meredith's mind wrestled. But whatever she decided, it had to be soon. He fingers had begun to go numb.

As soon as Moira switched off her mobile telephone, she began to unpack. First came a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. She hadn't bothered with a night-dress. She didn't wear one anyway. But a toothbrush was essential. Then she set about removing her new clothes from their wrappings.

The town wasn't over endowed with good quality shopping opportunities. But by combing the back streets Moira had found a small shop that stocked some rather good items. There she had selected a cotton shirtdress that hugged her contours pleasingly. It was shorter than she usually wore. But that didn't matter. She knew she had good legs. Taking it from the tissue paper in which the obliging shop owner had wrapped it, Moira held it in front of her body approvingly before hanging it in the wardrobe.

Next the underwear box gave up its contents. Tucked away in the rear of the shop had been an oasis of stylish underthings in shimmering silky materials. Moira had chosen an underwired half-cup bra that did the impossible. It enhanced a bosom that was hardly in need of enhancement. The bra was a delicate grape colour and had lace trimmings. The matching panties, she bought two pairs, were brief and high cut and seriously sensual in texture.

Leaving the underwear on the bed, Moira disappeared into the en suite bathroom to see if it was as well appointed as the bedroom.

It was. Moira slid a hand into the shower cubicle and set the spray going. She would have a shower and a change of clothes. Then, as soon as she had the feel of new, silky material against her body, she would go down to dinner and ponder the case.

Fingering the scarf that adorned her slender neck with one hand, she reached behind her back and felt for the zip fastener at the rear of her dress with the other. As she lowered it, she made her way back out into the bedroom.

There, sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, she found an elegant young woman, wearing a lemon-coloured suit, with a short skirt.

The woman grinned up at Meredith. In one hand she held Moira's new bra. In the other, she gripped a gun with what looked like a silencer attached.

'Moira Metcalf, I presume,' the woman said grinning.

'Yes,' Moira said, as insouciantly as she could, in the circumstances. 'And, whom am I addressing?'

'All in good time, my dear,' the woman said, motioning with the gun in a threatening way.'Now, I'm afraid, that I will not be able to move you until it quietens down a bit outside. So I'm going to have to tie you up and gag you while we wait.' She paused, while Moira took the news in. But she had another bombshell to drop. 'Don't fret about it, dear,' she added. 'It will be good practice for what's in store for you for the foreseeable future. Now there's one more thing. While we wait, I think you should model this.' She tossed the expensive bra at Moira's feet. 'And these delightful little panties. So the first thing I want you to do is to strip.'

TO BE CONTINUED.

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