MIA CHANTAL IN JEOPARDY
by Brian Sands
Part One: The Old House
Mia worked in a magazine business which dealt in mystery romances, secret
confessions, and crime stories. She was a good writer and editor, and had a
generous gift of common sense which often saved the office in an emergency.
Although she sometimes felt that she was abetting the dissemination of what
used to be called pulp, she admitted that she enjoyed her work. Imaginative
fantasy was a stong point with her. So were her clients. One man in
particular fascinated Mia from the moment he entered her office suite.
Tall, with a commanding hawk-like visage, hair greying slightly at the
temples, he projected an old-world charm and courtesy that was rarely if
ever met with today. He also wore a subtle air of mystery like a second,
invisible coat. His name was Miles deVille.
DeVille had submitted several mystery stories and one Gothic novel which
Mia's company had published, but aside from this she knew litle about him.
People said that he lived in an ageing house on an isolated part of the
coast, much like some of the characters in his stories, she noted. So when
Miles deVille invited her to have dinner at his family home - sending a
card with his chauffeur requesting the pleasure of Mia Chantal's company,
etc. - she agreed at once, scarcely disguising her pleasure beneath the
business-as-usual mien she affected during working hours.
On the Friday evening of the dinner, Mia prepared herself for the occasion
with more than her usual care. She enjoyed the feel of smooth, silky
fabrics close to her body and she dressed in her best silks and satins: the
sheerest black bra with a touch of lace at the top, black silk panties, and
sheer black stockings without a suspender belt, clinging to her upper
thighs. Blue high-heeled shoes complemented the curves of her legs without
exagerrating them. For contrast Mia chose a simple but stunning
shirtwaister dress in blue silk. Its hem just covered her knees and the
deep V at the neck highlighted the shadow made between by her neat, well
formed breasts. Around her throat she arranged a long wispy scarf in blue
silk which matched the color of her dress. It fell behind to her waist and
fluttered caressingly over the V front. A soft black satin overcoat held in
place at her waist by a thin satin sash completed the outfit. Mia
pirouetted in front of the full length mirror, liking what she saw. She had
finished dressing just in time, for the chauffeur was at the door.
The drive along the coast road to the old house was uneventful. In the
moonless evening, Mia could see little, and the large halls, sumptuous
living room, and the fire roaring in the grate were welcome, banishing the
dark night outside. Dinner, served by a maid in an adjoining dining room,
was superb by her educated standards. Afterwards Miles and Mia relaxed in
easy chairs in front of the fire, after-dinner drinks in their hands. The
maid left for her home in the nearby village. The chauffeur was nowhere
around.
Mia was in a relaxed mood, bright and cheerful. They had not spoken much
during the meal itself. There seemed to be little need to do so while the
wonderful repast lay before them. But Mia often caught deVille's gaze
resting on her admiringly, so much so that she found herself blushing on
more than one occasion, which was unusual for her.
'Such a large house,' Mia began conversationally. 'Do you live here all by
yourself?'
'No,' Miles replied urbanely, ' I don't have much time because of my
writing, which I do in a small office in the city. A man comes every third
day to look after the grounds. The maid attends to most of the important
rooms. The chauffeur comes and goes when I need him. Right now Snedley, the
chauffeur, has the weekend off. I'll take you home myself,' he added, as if
to reassure Mia of his honorable intentions.
'This house is so like the setting for some of your stories,' Mia
exclaimed. She rose and paced about the large room, admiring the wall
hangings and looking with unfeigned interest at the assorted ancient
weapons in display against one broad wall. 'I've read a couple of your
novels, you know. This place has all the ingredients for them. Gothic
mysteries especially. Large halls, wall tapestries, fire-places.' She waved
an arm gracefully in the direction of the roaring logs. I wouldn't be
surprised if there was a dungeon too,' she added jokingly.
'As a matter of fact there is,' said Miles with a slow smile. 'When I
bought the place there was quite a collection of junk, such as those old
weapons of war. But there was enough equipment to allow for some
restoration.'
'You restored the dungeon?' Mia said archly.
'Yes. As a hobby. It helps give the mood for what I'm writing, as you so
astutely observed. Would you like to see it?'
'I don't know,' Mia replied thoughtfully. Then she added teasingly, the
words coming so spontaneously that they surprised her. 'Dungeons are for
prisoners aren't they? Like that young heiress in your latest novel.'
'In a figurative sense of course,' said Miles with an amused smile, 'you
can be my captive for the evening. If you like.'
It was a challenge that Mia could not easily resist. 'What would you do
with me?' But Miles only smiled enigmatically.
In the almost-silence, broken by the roaring of the strong fire, Mia paused
only momentarily before making a decision.
'All right,' she said. 'I'll take up your challenge. I would like to look
over your dungeon, as well as other parts of this wonderful house. So ...
make me a prisoner.' And she turned her back to Miles, put her arms behind
her, and crossed her wrists.'
'Are you sure you want this, for real?' Miles asked, rising from his
armchair. Mia did not notice him take a long silken cord from one of the
wall hangings with a smooth, practiced motion as he approached her from
behind. Its purpose had been only decorative.
'Sure,' the young woman replied confidently. 'If I'm going to be tied up,
it should be done properly.'
'As long as you really don't mind,' Miles continued, a hint of pleasure in
his voice. 'Because, I warn you, as soon as your hands are bound there is
no turning back. You won't have the luxury of changing your mind.'
Mia tossed her heavy, dark shoulder length hair in reply and added
teasingly, 'Take the helpless kidnap victim to your dungeon, just like in
your stories.'
Without a word, Miles deVille gathered Mia's wrists together and began to
wind the cord about them.
Mia smiled over her shoulder at him. 'I used to be pretty good at getting
out of ropes when I was a girl,' she warned.
'Then I wil have to make this very tight,' was all Miles said, as he
concentrated on his task.
The cord was thin, soft, very flexible, and very strong. First Miles wound
it from its center four times about Mia's wrists and tied a double knot,
non-slip. These windings were snug but a little loose. However, that did
not last for long, because next he cinched them between the woman's wrists,
turning the two ends of the cord three times in opposite directions. When
another double knot had been made, this time much tighter, Mia's wrists
were confined as though they were in rope handcuffs. Enough slack remained
between the two circlets of cord to allow Miles to cross Mia's wrists in
the way she had done at first, and to wind the ends once more in opposite
directions, but this time vertically. A double knot was again tied.
Finally, the remaining ends of the cord were turned about the captive's
wrists in a more conventional way, horizontally. Mia's captor had used
every part of the cord, and when the last knot was secured her wrists were
held in a sort of criss-cross so tightly that she found she could not move
them at all. Mia gave a sharp intake of breath when she realised how
helpless she had become.
Next her captor took from the breast pocket of his smoking jacket a large
black scarf of heavy silk. He folded it half over into a broad rectangle
and continued folding in the same line until he had a thick bandage a
little more than two inches wide. Standing behind Mia and a little to her
left, Miles reached the cloth over her head.
Mia's heart quickened. 'A blindfold too. Oh my gosh!'
'No,' came the flat reply.
With great care, Miles made the thick strip of silk cover Mia's lips and
mouth from just below her nose to the tip of her chin. He drew the ends of
the scarf around and over her cheeks and jaw and bound them very tightly at
the back of her neck just under her hair. Involuntarily, Mia strained at
the cords fastening her wrists, otherwise she moved neither her body or her
head. She had reached the point of no return.
The gag was knotted in a special manner. Instead of being wound once only,
the first knot was twice twisted before being snugged into place and
secured non-slip with the second knot. This meant that, instead of being
loosened inadvertently when the second loop was tied off, the knot was
drawn tighter instead. Because it was a crisp kind of silk, and brand-new
from the store, the scarf resisted slipping in any case. It was now so
tight that Mia's cheeks bulged above the material around her face, and her
lips were pressed back against her teeth. It was already uncomfortable but
she did not try to speak or work the gag loose.
'Your wrists are the key to it all,' Miles murmured softly into Mia's ear.
'There's no turning back. You are in my hands.' Mia nodded in her imposed
muteness. Silence was now the rule.
Miles gripped the young woman's arm firmly as he led her along the main
hallway towards the back of the large house. They stopped at a recess below
a staircase, and he produced a large key from somewhere below the stairs,
from a nail Mia thought, and wrestled with the lock of a door that was
hidden in the shadows.
Mia stood quietly behind him, her head slightly bowed. Even if she had the
opportunity to run she would not do so. With her hands tied behind her, and
in the near dark, she would have little chance of avoiding capture again.
And her curiosity was well and truly aroused. Mia felt a little
apprehensive, but not frightened. She instinctively liked and trusted her
captor, though she had known Miles for such a short time, and she was
enjoying the game. She even thought she liked the sense of helplessness
that being bound gave her, though the bindings were a little too real. Her
inability to move her arms more than a few inches, and the constriction of
the broad bandage of silk taut about her face, gave her a strange feeling.
The air she breathed was warm and tasted stale through the gag. She poked
the tip of her tongue between her teeth and touched the silk material that
clung slickly over her lips. 'Bound and gagged,' she mused in a daze. She
was no longer a bustling, self-assured office editor. She was a young woman
finding out for the first time how very feminine and dependent she could
become without losing her self-approval.
The door opened on hinges that squaled in a suitably gothic manner. Miles
turned to her and she felt his hands on her shoulders, kneading the nape of
her neck, stroking the back of her head with strong fingers. 'Tying someone
up is a very personal and close act,' Miles said softly to Mia. 'You do
understand, don't you?' Mia nodded.
As he spoke, Miles took Mia's own scarf from her neck - it was far more
flimsy a kind of silk that the heavy cloth covering her mouth - and gently
but firmly wound it across her eyes and around her head three times,
securing a tight double knot at the back of her head. 'You expected a
blind-fold at first, didn't you?' he chuckled. 'Now you've got one, for the
time being. It's to make you feel more helpless.'
Mia heard the sound of a light switch but could see nothing. She was led
down what seemed to be stone steps, which made her feel more than ever that
she was a captive in the nineteenth century, to be held incommunicado like
the poor woman in the Sherlock Holmes adventure of The Hound of the
Baskervilles. As she was led forward, now on a flat surface, Mia had a
sense of space around her. And when the blindfold was gently unwound and
whisked quickly off her face, her eyes widened in astonishment. The room
was so large that she could not see some of the further walls, which must
extend to the other side of the house that lay above. A few paces ahead of
her the floor was covered by a large white carpet. Around the walls from
floor to ceiling hung heavy red drapes, except for some sections of wall
which on closer inspection had large rings set into them, and chains. At
one end of the huge room Mia could make out what looked like an iron
sarcophagus and a rack, and nearby, set more to the centre of the room,
stood a large wooden chair. Halfway along one side was a wide bench that
supported an assortment of objects. Mia had difficulty guessing the use of
many of them, but they all gave her a crawly feeling along the back of her
neck. As if he sensed this, Miles again caressed and kneaded Mia's
shoulders and neck. His touch was reassuring.
Mia walked slowly around the large room looking at each exhibit in turn.
She felt strange and a little foolish, doing this while her arms were fixed
behind her and with the black silk bandage across her mouth, but she
noticed her captor watching in appreciation and this gave her spirits
another lift.
She came to the chair. It was heavy, padded, with a straight narrow back
and wide arm-rests. Her eyes widened as she noticed broad leather straps
attached to the chair at almost every point. On an impulse, she sat down in
it and wriggled herself as comfortably against the padded back as her arms
allowed. Miles walked across and stood a moment looking down at her
thoughtfully. Then he knelt, and Mia feld soft leather straps being
fastened around her ankles, holding them to the chair. One by one the
straps attached to the chair were buckled about her at different places,
illustrating the uses for which they had been intended. The straps on the
arm-rests were left untouched because her arms were already wedged behind
her between her back and the chair. In a very short time she was firmly
trussed below and above her knees, around her thighs, that is, across her
lap, and about her body at her waist and below and above her breasts. All
she could move was her head.
At that moment a red light set into the wall by the foot of the steps began
to flicker on and off. She had not noticed it before. 'The phone,' her
captor explained in answer to Mia's enquiring glance. 'I regret that I must
leave you awhile. But you seem comfortable enough. And I'll be back. You
can't go far,' he added jokingly as he retreated up the steps.
Miles did not switch off the light, and when he was gone Mia noticed with a
jolt that her own reflection filled a large mirror set against a section
of the wall opposite where she was seated. Her vulnerability in the flimsy
silk dress, her own large eyes staring back at her over the gag, the
obvious tightness of the straps which held her to the chair - all reflected
in the mirror - added to her bodily resistance against the bonds. She could
see where the straps were pressed tightly into her upper arms, bare in the
light dress.
Now that she was left on her own, panic began to stir in her breast, but
she attempted to fight it back. As an experiment she tested her bonds more
seriously but no amount of straining or wriggling had any effect. She was
all secure. Moreover, the tight scarf at her mouth was beginning to
distress her. Virtually the only sound she could make through the thick
cloth was a muffled glug that would not carry far. In an attempt to relieve
the gag's pressure, Mia worked her mouth open with a lot of difficulty and
succeeded in making the scarf slip partially from her face and lips and
into her mouth. There it stayed, between her teeth. She was unable to work
it over her chin, but the pressure had lessened and she could breathe more
easily. The gag did its job with efficiently, filling her mouth and
muffling her. She bit down on the material, which clung lacily to her
tongue.
When he returned, Miles smiled at the new appearance of Mia's gag. Bending
over her, he spoke softly, a touch of concern in his voice. 'Is that too
tight? Well, I think you've had enough of it for awhile, so let's get it
off.' He untied the knot at the back of Mia's neck and carefully drew the
scarf away from her mouth. Its tightly bound folds had left marks in the
girl's cheeks, and the corners of her mouth felt mildly chafed. Mia sighed
with relief and let her head rest back against the chair.
Tenderly Miles took her face in his large strong hands and massaged her
cheeks and jaw, brushing his lips several times across hers as he did so.
Mia responded almost sleepily, and within a few moments they were kissing
lovingly. The feeling of being so passionately caressed while bound and
helpless thrilled Mia deliciously.
'Thank you for taking off the gag,' she whispered between the warm kisses.
'It was starting to hurt.'
'You didn't mind it too much?' he asked solicitously.
'Mmmm.' Mia shook her head.
'Would you like me to untie you now?'
To her own surprise, Mia found herself replying quickly, 'No. Not yet at
least. I don't mind being tied. It feels funny, not at all like it was when
I was a schoolgirl. I'm so helpless. Perhaps that's one thing I like about
it. This is one night when I don't have to make decisions after a week of
ordering people about.'
'If you like the game,' Miles added, a serious gleam of intent in his eyes,
'how about going on with it for awhile? I have to go out for about an hour,
some sort of emergency at the building where I work in my day-job.'
'Will I have to be gagged again?"
'With your permission.'
Mia thought for a moment. The idea of having her mouth tied up once more
left her feeling hot and shaky, and she was about to refuse, when she
experienced again the overwhelming feeling of helplessness that had
overcome her when the gag was first applied. Instead, Mia attempted to
laugh off the confusion about her mixed feelings. She drew herself up and
looked into Miles's eyes with what she hoped he would interpret as
fearlessness. 'Well, I don't have any choice with my hands tied like this,
so you'd better go ahead and do it before I start screaming and attract the
crowds of people outside.'
Miles took the flimsy scarf, which had been draped over Mia's shoulders
after its use as a blindfold, and carefully folded it into a short
rectangular pad. He wrapped it around the thick silk of her original gag
until he had a soft wad at the scarf's center. 'Open your mouth,' he
directed, and when Mia obeyed, apprehensively, he packed the wedge firmly
between her teeth and jaws. The ends of the scarf were tied around her
cheeks to the back of her neck as before, pressing into the corners of her
mouth, but this time her jaws were packed with the soft material. The thick
silk around which the wadding was wrapped prevented the filling from
slipping to the back of her throat.
'Mmmmmph.' Mia found immediately that the gag was tight enough to resist
any attempts to eject it. She closed her jaws around the wad, holding it
behind her teeth, and stared up at her captor defiantly. She was not going
to show any fear. All the same, when Miles left she hoped he would not be
long.
The time passed slowly. Mia struggled until she felt faint and exhausted
and wondered whether every captive woman bound by the man she liked felt
the same way. She even managed to nod off towards sleep, but sitting
trussed straight as a statue with a large wad of silk in her mouth worked
against it. She tried again to twist and turn her hands but with no effect.
It seemed that ages had gone past in the silence of the dungeon, where Mia
realised no sound from outside could penetrate, just as no sound she made
could pass beyond the thick stone walls.
And then she heard something. She lifted her head and listened attentively.
There it was again, a strange ... grating sort of noise. At first she
thought it was the main door to the dungeon being opened, and that Miles
was returning after his errand. It certainly felt that she had been bound
long enough for several trips back and forth between house and city to be
accomplished, and any number of office crises attended to. But it was not
the door. At least not that door at the head of the steps. The scratching
sound appeared to be coming from a far corner of the room, lost in shadows.
Mia craned her neck and tried to make out a darker shadow that seemed to
move slowly towards her. A figure detached itself from the gloom of the
corner. It had the build of a man. It was Miles, come by a different route!
Why hadn't she speculated before that a dungeon might have a secret passage
or two?
As Miles stepped into the circle of light surrounding Mia's restraining
chair, she lifted her head and mmmphed appealingly, and a little crossly.
Then her breath caught in her throat and a scream tried unsuccessfully to
escape the tightness in her chest and the gag in her mouth. It was not
Miles deVille. It was a tall, thin man, wearing a uniform jacket and cap.
It was Miles's chauffeur, Snedley. She recognised his narrow visage.
The shock of seeing someone else in the dungeon, anyone at all other than
her captor, threw Mia off balance. But quickly she collected her wits and
tried to think how she would explain away being bound and gagged. Did this
man know about his employer's interests? But he was a temporary employee,
like the maid. And Mia suspected that Miles DeVille was a very private man
who would keep any staff of his at a distance. After all, tying and gagging
one's women friends was a distinctly private affair in anyone's language.
Mia looked up at the interloper expectantly. The gag would probably be the
first thing to come off, and then she would have some hard explaining to do
in order to preserve Miles's reputation.
But the chauffeur did not move. He stood above her, legs apart, arms folded
over his chest, his face in shadow. Then Mia realised he was laughing
softly. It began with a faint lift of the shoulders and an inclining of the
head, but when it became audible Mia's heart turned cold. It was a nasty,
calculating laugh.
'Well, well,' the man sneered, 'this is better than I expected. You're
neatly laid out on a platter. I was wondering how it would turn out. There
are ways of seeing into most rooms in the place, you know, and I would have
sought you out anywhere, Mia Chantal, and spirited you away at the first
opportunity. This is all too easy. And that dumbo deVille won't be back for
a couple of hours yet. I've seen to that,' he smirked.
'What is this?' Mia thought frantically. 'What's he saying? Seek me out?
DeVille delayed? Is this some sort of plan?'
'How funny you look, with your saucer eyes above that gag. You don't get
it, do you? But I'll explain everything. Well, almost everything. As much
as you'll need to know. Yee-haa. I'm paying back a rich bastard and getting
me a stuck-up bitch.'
Mia quailed at the light of insanity in Snedley's eyes, and she tried
hopelessly to shriek through the gag, but she could utter nothing more than
a whimper.
'Time to get to work,' the chauffeur muttered. He bent over the young
woman, took her chin between thin steel-hard fingers, and inspected her
gag. 'This won't do. We have a long way to go and you might just be able to
make a noise when we're out of this place.'
With quick movements, the man untied the knot at the back of Mia's neck and
pulled the gag from her mouth. Mia tried to speak, but her mouth was so dry
that all she could utter was a faint cough. And before she was able to take
a breath deep enough to essay a cry all the flimsy scarf, pulled away from
the heavy silk scarf, was stuffed into her mouth. 'Don't try to push it out
with your tongue.' As a warning, Snedley cuffed her about the face just
hard enough to sting.
From one of his pockets the chauffeur produced a dispenser of white
two-inch tape of a medical kind and pulled from it a strip about eight
inches long. 'Put your lips together,' he ordered peremptorily. Mia obeyed
and closed her jaws around the wad, holding it behind her teeth. She was
now thoroughly cowed. The tape was strapped in place over her mouth,
pressed down and smoothed out so there were no wrinkles. Only the faint
outline of her lips showed through.
Mia's face was now covered from ear to ear. But instead of tearing the tape
off at this point her new, cruel captor continued to wind the sticky
adhesive cloth around the back of her neck and over her mouth again, and
again a third time. Her face was covered as neatly as the silk bandage had
done earlier, but far more tightly and with no possibility of her ever
getting it off without assistance. It was already like a second skin, and
she knew it would be agonising when the time came for it to be removed.
Afraid of choking, Mia made sure that she kept the wadding firmly to the
front of her mouth.
Her captor grinned down at her triumphantly. 'Ah hoo, just like in Play
Misty for Me. You're a feisty little woman too.'
Mia's silencing was not complete however. The large black silk scarf was
again tied very tightly in a wide bandage about her face covering mouth,
cheeks, jaws and the back of her neck. It pressed into her cheeks and
compacted more firmly the wadding inprisoned in her mouth. She realised it
would also make the tape stick even tighter, if that was at all possible.
Next Mia was taken from the chair and laid face down on the carpet. With
her face so tightly smothered and her wrists bound firmly behind her there
was very little she could do about struggling. Her arms were tied even more
tightly, fixed immoveably behind her with a long piece of sash cord that
bit agonisingly into the soft flesh just above her elbows. She was rolled
roughly onto her back and her legs bound just as tightly above and below
the knees, the sash cord cinched between. Her silk stockings were useless
in cushioning the ropes. Mia was hauled to her feet and placed briefly in
the padded chair again while her arms were bound to her body with more
cord. The tight wrappings around her body above and below her breasts
accentuated their curves and pushed them deeper into the open V of her
dress. The chauffeur pawed at her bosom, chuckling dementedly to himself.
'Comfortable?' he asked ironically. 'Off on our way then, Mia Chantal.'
The chauffeur bent under Mia and hoisted her roughly onto his back.
Terrified, scarcely able to breathe through the suffocating tape, she hung
over his shoulder, her head swinging like a rag doll as he retraced his
steps into the secret passage.
'I'm being kidnapped,' Mia thought hopelessly, ' and by a madman with some
sort of grudge against Miles.' Mia knew from all the newspapers and
television programs she had seen on the subject that kidnap victims did not
always survive their ordeals. 'And he knows me,' she thought. 'What IS
going on?'
They were suddenly in the open. Turning her head awkwardly, upside down,
Mia saw over her shoulder the car that she had arrived in at the beginning
of the evening, the open door of its trunk waiting to engulf her. Her
fearful shriek registered as another smothered whimper.
To be continued ...
Chapter Two