The leather trusses around Mignon’s torso had shifted the corset a little to one side and pressed the satin and lace edges tight against her body. The young woman’s agile fingers found the seam where the small blade was hidden, but only after very careful probing that lasted several minutes. Sweat beaded on her forehead and Mignon’s body felt tense and shaky. I mustn’t hurry it, she thought grimly. Got to take my time. She knew that with one slip she could lose the small razor and that searching for it while blindfolded and bound up so tightly would be like looking for that ill-famed needle in the haystack.

She relaxed and took several long deep breaths. Then her slender fingers gently searched out the edge of the seam and slipped a long nail into it, taking even greater care now that the blade was in her grasp lest she cut herself on its edge. She had set it inside the seam so that her fingers would first come up against the blunt back of the razor, and she found this was still the case. It had not slipped during the tying-up.

Mignon asked herself, what’s the first thing I should do? She wanted to get the leather straps off her wrists. They were soft, but she knew they were thick too and would resist the brittle blade. Better to start on something she could be more confident about, and she could feel the section of cotton rope that was part of her hogtie taut against her hands. Mignon rolled onto her face, then, holding the blade by its reinforced blunt back, she began sawing steadily and gently at the strands that made up the rope. They soon parted, and with a suddenness that almost made her drop the blade. She allowed her legs to fall back onto the mattress and lay still, breathing heavily, heart thumping, sweat trickling from her armpits. Oh my god, it’s such a relief to get out of that cramped position, but I nearly did it that time. By a miracle, she was still holding the blade.

What could be her next move? The cotton rope, she decided. It was closer. All she had to do was to bend her knees and get her feet to her hands. The mattress was against one of the walls so Mignon edged closer to where she thought the wall was. She came to the edge of the mattress: no wall. It was in the other direction. Slowly she moved crabwise on her side until her back came up against the cold plaster. Then she moved away several inches and bent her knees until her feet touched the wall.

By the time she was in position, Mignon’s feet were braced against her buttocks, between her body and the wall and, with a little more re-positioning, she was able to bring the edge of the blade against her ankle bonds. The cotton rope parted as easily as the hog tie had done and, by stretching her arms down, Mignon was able to cut through the bonds just below her knees as well. Then, by straightening her legs and arching her back, the young woman managed to deal with the bonds that held her upper thighs. Her face fell to the mattress and she let out a long sigh of relief.

Shall I chance the blade against these straps? Mignon decided against the idea. Her legs were free; the next thing she had to do was to get rid of the stifling blindfold. She remembered vividly the directions in the SAS Urban Survival Manual about rubbing or hooking gags or blindfolds against something to get them off. Well, she could not do anything about the leather half mask padlocked over her gag but the blindfold she could do something about.

Still holding the blade in one hand, Mignon rolled onto her back and managed to sit up. Would the wall do? Half a minute of rubbing her face against the smooth plaster proved that this would not work. The mattress? Mignon let her body tumble face first onto the mattress and she began rubbing her bound eyes against its rougher surface. That did not work either. She sat up again and tried to picture what the room had looked like before Joan tied the blindfold on. There was no other furniture. The window was too high to allow her to get to the sill. There were no projections, no hooks or knobs. But there’s the door handle, she corrected herself.

Mignon climbed to her feet and followed the edge of the mattress until she reached the wall. She then followed the smooth plaster around the room with her shoulder until she came to the lintel of the door. Her shoulder pressed against the handle. It was awkward, and she had to put her body through contortions. But at last she managed to slide the end of the door handle under the layers of the blindfold, and it was only the matter of a minute to hook the silk and gradually shift it off.

The blindfold slipped down over Mignon’s nose and face until, with a little more effort, it fell loose around her neck. She blinked and looked about the room. The room looked back at her blankly. She turned and found with a start that her weight on the handle had set the door ajar. It had been unlocked all along! She pushed it gingerly with her foot. Slowly the door swung open. All was quiet, so quiet that Mignon could hear the soft ticking of the kitchen wall clock.

With her heart in her mouth, Mignon stepped into the living room and walked along it towards the room where Meg lay a prisoner. The house was utterly silent. She and Meg had it to themselves, except that they were both bound, and that was something she had to overcome.

*

The door to Meg’s room opened against Mignon’s shoulder as easily as the other door. Mignon must have made a sound because Meg’s gagged and blindfolded face was raised towards her when she entered. Mignon tried to speak, but all that came out was a faint ‘glg.’ Meg seemed to understand however. She nodded her head and made sounds through her own gag that were only a little less indistinct than Mignon’s.

Without hesitating, the young woman padded across the floor to the bed, turned and sat on the edge by Meg’s bound legs. It took longer than when she had freed herself because Mignon was terrified that she might slip and cut Meg. But at last her friend’s legs were free.

As Meg struggled to sit up, Mignon risked trying to cut the leather strap that held her wrists together, but her fears about the quality of the blade were realised. Mignon felt the blade turn against the leather and then snap. Its pieces fell somewhere to the floor, probably under the bed.

‘Mmm mmmm!’

Meg’s whimper brought Mignon back abruptly to the real business of getting them both away from the place as fast as they could manage. But Meg could not do it while blindfolded.

Mignon turned her back to Meg, found her face, and as gently as she could she pulled the blindfold up and off Meg’s face and head. The two women looked into each other’s eyes. Neither could do anything about freeing the other of the rest of their restraints. Their gags and arm and wrist straps were padlocked.

‘Mm mm!’

Mignon interpreted Meg’s peremptory sound to mean, ‘Come along.’

She followed Meg out the door, across the living room and along the passage to the front door. The latch was at waist height. Meg turned and clicked it open and they were standing on the patio looking across a broad field with a small stand of trees on the other side. Meg looked meaningly at Mignon, nudged her with her shoulder, and set off at a trot down the path towards the field. As Mignon followed, she could not take her eyes off Meg’s swaying buttocks and, from time to time, the bouncing of her full breasts, sights that made mignon’s heart flutter.

When they reached the field, Mignon found that the grassy surface was comfortable enough to walk upon barefoot and soon they were running for the shelter of the trees. It was a bright sunshiny day but with a subtle bite in the air, normal early spring weather for that part of the country. Mignon felt the chilly fingers of the wind brush between her thighs and playfully ruffle the exposed hairs of her Mound as she ran faster and faster in order to keep up with Meg. A small group of long-eared sheep broke from a shadowy depression in the ground and fled from the two frightening forms descending upon them.

How Meg could run that fast with her mouth and face done up in the gag and half mask Mignon could not understand. Though she was younger, Mignon was making hard weather of it and, by the time they reached the edge of the trees, she was red-faced and almost fainting. She came to a halt in front of Meg.

Meg was standing still, listening. Her statuesque body, cinched at its narrow waist by the glossy ivory corset, stood out in relief, framed against the dark green of the foliage behind her. Taking the cue, Mignon did her best to control her breathing and listened. In the far distance they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching fast along the unseen highway.

‘Mm mm!’ Meg nodded towards the trees, and Mignon followed her into the leafy shadows. Until her eyes adjusted to the sudden descent into shadow, Mignon had to follow the rounded shapes of Meg’s buttocks.

After about half a minute, they came in sight of a wooden hut. Meg pushed the door’s simple latch with her shoulder and they both stumbled into the small room together. They stood in the dark shadows of the hut, keeping close for mutual comfort, naked breasts heaving, touching breast to breast, nipple to nipple from moment to moment as they listened for any further sound of the approaching vehicle.

Are they back? Mignon wondered, Has Mistress Alice and Joan Darling returned suddenly? But there was no further sound. The car must have been that of an innocent traveller, gone on its journey down the highway. Mignon heaved a small sigh of relief. It was Meg’s anxiety more than anything that had frightened her.

But what can we do now? thought Mignon, go out on the highway and flag down the first car that came along in the hope that it would not be their kidnappers returning? And what a sight they would present to an unsuspecting motorist: two beautiful women, their arms bound behind their backs and strapped to their bodies, mouths gagged with custom bondage masks, wearing sleek shiny corsets, breasts uncovered, Venus mounds shining and furry, exposed to inspection!

Meg seemed to have an idea. She nudged Mignon’s shoulder and jerked her head towards the door. Once again, Mignon followed her friend. After all, she reasoned, Meg knows the area. This is her property. Somewhere there may be a safe haven.

They jogged along a narrow track that was only wide enough for one person to tread at a time and, after a minute, they entered a clearing. This area must be more frequently used, thought Mignon as she surveyed the manicured grass that was almost lawn. In the centre of the clearing stood another hut, but one that was more substantial than the one-room shack they had just come from. Mignon calculated from its size that it must have at least two rooms, and there was a narrow porch of wooden slats to which they were now mounting. Meg stopped at the door, turned and worked the knob. It swung open as easily as the other door.

Mignon followed Meg into the cottage and stood transfixed in astonishment. Facing them, reclining elegantly in easy chairs with long glasses of iced somethings in their hands were Alice and Joan. They had walked into a trap.

*

Mignon looked back to the door which had closed behind her. Even if she could reach her hands to it in time, either Alice or Joan would be upon her before she had reached the lawn, Joan most likely. And there was Meg to think about. There was no way Mignon would abandon her friend. So, instead, the young woman took a deep breath through her nose, squared her shoulders and stood in her lovely semi-nakedness facing their tormenters.

‘Well well,’ drawled Alice happily, ‘What a to-do! All that running, erhm, naked in the field, more or less.’

‘You really were an engaging sight,’ added Joan. ‘We had great fun watching you through our binoculars, cavorting as it were. A variation on hares and hounds. Wonderful bouncy movements! I drink to you both.’ She raised her glass and sipped what looked like a gin and tonic.

Mignon glared at her. If only I could speak, she thought angrily.

‘Oh my, what daggers the pretty young one casts at us, Joan Darling,’ said Alice with an amused smile.

‘Yers. It frightens us,’ answered Joan with an ironic laugh.

‘You don’t think ...’ said Alice, rising from her seat and approaching the two helpless women, now captives once again, ‘You don’t think that we really planned to leave you pesky escapologists all alone to work your tricks on us? The way we gagged you should have given our game away.’

‘Rule Nine,’ Joan interposed, ‘The application of a special night gag, also has to be done if the prisoner is to be left on her own for a hours unattended.’

‘Yers, as you say, Darling Joan. Which reminds me, please remove young Mignon’s gag, and that of dear Meg. They can have a breath of fresh country air before we gag them again.’

As Joan went to Mignon and began to unlock the leather half mask that covered her face, Alice continued.

‘We tied your legs purposely, left the rope hog tie nicely within reach. Of course, it would not have mattered if you, Mignon sweetie, had not noticed the blade we left so casually in the bathroom. You get full marks for observation.

‘And another set of marks for making use of it,’ added Joan as the leather impediment came away from Mignon’s face.

Almost in one movement, Joan undid the scarf at the back of Mignon’s neck and peeled away tape and knot from her mouth. Mignon spat out the single wadded handkerchief and coughed.

‘You- you tricked us,’ she said in a scarcely audible voice. ‘The- the makeup that made Meg think I was being tortured. It was staged.’

‘Oh yes, but it had its effect didn’t it? It forced Meg to sign her papers, and you gave in pretty easily too. Such nobility and fidelity to a friend!’ said Alice.

Joan was now freeing Meg of her gag.

As soon as the leather mask came away from Meg’s lips, the near-naked woman opened her jaws wide and with her tongue pushed out a copious amount of cloth. Mignon saw that this comprised two pairs of panties, one of hers and one of Meg’s.

‘So it was all a trick!’ exclaimed Mignon.

‘No, my dear, not a trick at all,’ answered Alice. She walked up to Mignon and looked closely into her face.

Mignon returned the searching gaze defiantly. She did not let her eyes waver in the confrontation. Joan gave a soft laugh, reached up and pinched Mignon’s cheek lightly.

‘You really are a little goose. Don’t you realise that those documents are real, that you and your delightfully bosomy friend have both signed away your savings? And do you really think that this is a game, and that we’re going to let you go, all have drinks and a happy laugh together?’

Alice threw her head back and laughed shrilly, making Mignon’s blood run cold.

‘And as for your beautiful silk clothes,’ added Joan, ‘It has really all gone up in flames. Oh yes, we toyed with you a little by saving some of the prettier items for you to wear, but that was just to make the impact of loss and disappointment greater.’

Mignon’s mouth felt dry with fear, not only from the gag that had lain heavily in her mouth for the last two hours.

‘Wh- what are you going to do with us? Really?’

‘Really? Right now?’ Alice asked archly. ‘It’s really very simple, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You will be drugged. And, when you regain consciousness, you will find yourself trussed so tight that you won’t be able to move. You will be in total darkness, your ears plugged so that you will hear nothing except for the sound of your own heart beating and the whimpers through your gags. You will be crated up and your heads will be sealed in tight leather hoods. Complete sensory deprivation.’

Mignon shivered and her legs almost gave way under her. She had never experienced more than blindfolding and bondage of the kind they had gone through over the last three days, and complete immobilisation and the smothering of all her senses was a terrifying thought.

Alice laughed unsympathetically. ‘You will of course be en route to one of our buyers. More than one I think, because you should go each to separate masters. So ... Joan Darling?’

Joan reached into her bag and placed the air pistol into Alice’s hand.

‘Wait,’ cried Meg suddenly, ‘This wasn’t what we planned ...’

Meg’s voice trailed away as the pistol made a faint hiss. Joan caught her as she sagged to the floor.

‘You’re next, sweetie,’ said Alice with relish.

Mignon faced the muzzle of the pistol bravely.

‘By the way,’ said Alice. ‘This is a different drug. You were maybe expecting to experience your tying-up the way it was before? No ... This will render you quite unconscious. And I have just told you what you are going to wake up to.’

‘No! You can’t! Please ...’ cried Mignon.

The pistol hissed again. Mignon felt a sharp sting in her shoulder. Then everything went blank.

*

Slowly the effect of the drug began to wear off.

Where am I? Mignon asked herself muzzily. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts and, as memory came back, she broke out into a cold sweat. Trussed tight, in darkness, crated up?

There was a soft carpet against her shoulder. She was lying on her side. Puzzled, Mignon tried to move her arms and was not surprised when nothing happened. I’m still bound and gagged, but where? And where’s Meg?

Mignon’s head was clearing fast now. The drug from the air pistol had been gentle on her body. As her senses came into sharper focus, Mignon realised that she was dressed. She seemed to be wearing slacks and a light silky top of some kind, and she remembered that among the clothes she packed for the weekend adventure was a pair of light silky-feeling polyester track-suit pants and a purple cotton and silk top with long sleeves and a scoop neck. Maybe she was wearing them now.

She tried to move once more, and again very little happened. But now she discovered that her wrists were tied behind her with what felt like Joan’s ubiquitous thin cotton cord, and her ankles were bound together also, with the same sort of cord it seemed.

Mignon explored with her tongue. She was lightly gagged. She felt a pad of silk between her jaws, held there by what was probably another silk scarf. And, when she closed her mouth, she felt the knot of the scarf between her teeth, holding the pad in place. A third scarf covered her eyes, but it was a loose blindfold and she caught a soft warm light entering where the silk stretched across the bridge of her nose.

The young woman rolled onto her back and from there to her other side, and came up against a warm body. From the familiar scent of her fellow-prisoner, it could only be Meg. Meg responded to the movement.

‘C’n y’ re’g m’ h’ns ‘f rll urver?’ said Meg indistinctly through her own gag.

‘Mm, ‘ll try,’ answered Mignon.

As her fingers worked on the knots at Meg’s wrists, Mignon thought how nice it was to be able to speak more understandably, with her mouth muffled only by a silk pad. Mignon felt the cords fall from Meg’s wrists and then her friend’s fingers were working on her own bonds. She sat up, brought her arms in front of her and pulled the gag and blindfold down from her face in one movement, the silks nestling around her throat.

Mignon looked around her and was struck dumb. She was sitting on a carpeted floor beside her friend. They were back in the tasteful comfort of Meg’s apartment. On the coffee table stood a tray with four freshly poured drinks arranged neatly on it, the ice still floating on their surface. On the floor in two equally neat piles were all their clothes that Mignon had believed were burned.

*

‘That was ingenious, the way you got us free,’ said Meg over her brandy and dry. ‘I keep thinking, "Mignon Marceau, author of Dangerous Inheritance and other stories ... " ’

‘Potboilers!’

Mignon took a sip of her gin and tonic.

‘Potboilers or not, what I’m asking is where did you get the idea? It’s not in any of your adventure stories.’

Mignon coloured prettily, ‘You know Dangerous Inheritance was adapted first into a bande dessinee before they made it into Where There’s A Will. I’m a fan of that artist.’

‘The bande dessinee one?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sandy something?’

‘Yes. Well, he’s written a suite of short stories, and an adventure novel. And the heroine in his novel gets herself free by using a knife blade that she’s hidden in the lining of her belt. So, you see, I wasn’t really being original.’

‘But would you have thought of it when you saw the blade that Joan left in the bathroom, if you had not read that story?’

‘I honestly don’t know. But I had read the story. He also has tips on escapology,’ Mignon said as an afterthought. ‘You know,’ she went on, ‘Alice and Joan played their parts so well that I truly believed it was real. I was very frightened. But it was exciting at the same time, especially when we spent the night together trussed up tightly.’

‘We ... they, tested your resourcefulness to the full.’

‘You know, I wondered about it from time to time, between gags so to speak,’ said Mignon. ‘Or so not to speak... Things developed smoothly, but a little too predictably. And once in that room when I was tied to the post, I had a strange feeling that three people and not two were watching me.’

‘Hmmm. The fertile imagination of an adventure writer.’ Meg chuckled enigmatically.

‘I wonder ...?’

Mignon looked appraisingly at Meg. Then she took another sip of her drink and gazed at it critically as a new thought came suddenly into her mind. ‘They can’t have been gone long. These drinks were fresh when we got ourselves untied. I wonder ...’

‘Whether they’ll be back?’ There was a faint lilt of relief in Meg’s tone that Mignon, absorbed in the new problem, did not notice.

‘Mm hmm.’

‘You can bet on it... When is your birthday coming up?’

‘You know that’s not for a long time yet,’ replied Mignon with a smile at Meg’s non sequitur.

‘Anyway, there’s plenty of things we can do until we meet them again,’ said Meg. ‘So ... let’s see, what will it be, Kitten ...?’

End

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