ROBBERY AT THE SWANK BOUTIQUE
By Brian Sands
Detail from Wildside, an Australian drama series, actress and episode unknown.
Chapter Four: Deshabille
As Douglas lifted her from the narrow confines of the chest, Simone felt a wave of relief sweep over her. She almost fainted.
‘Put her down here, Dougie,’ she heard Madame say. ‘The girl’s distraught! Get that tape off her mouth quickly, but be careful. Here, hold her hair down. I’ll strip the tape.’
Simone felt the cold side of a pair of scissors as they were inserted beneath the tape along the line of her right jaw. There was a lessening of tension as the tape was cut through, then the same was done on the other side. They left the seal over her mouth while Madame peeled the layered tape from her long glossy hair. Only a couple of strands were snagged to bring tears to Simone’s eyes. Finally, Madame gently but firmly worked the tape from the young woman’s mouth. When at last it came away, Douglas held a mug of water to Simone’s lips. She drank slowly and gratefully.
When she at last raised her head and gave a wan smile the two kidnappers relaxed.
‘Dougie, take the rest of the bindings off Mam’selle Simone while I run a bath. You’re going to receive some TLC, then I’m afraid we’ll have to truss you up again.’
‘Nooo,’ Simone whispered under her breath.
But they could not do anything to her that was worse than what they had already done. Could they?
When the Woman in Black returned from the adjoining bathroom, Douglas was cutting away the cords from Simone’s arms, having unravelled the cloth strips and windings of dress material in which the young woman had almost been mummified. Simone’s arms hung limp and useless at her sides. She began to shiver as circulation returned to her limbs.
‘There y’are Love, feel better?’ asked Douglas solicitously.
‘She’s getting some colour back in her cheeks,’ observed Madame. ‘You’re a mess, Sweetheart. Can you stand?’
‘I- I’ll try,’ Simone stammered through chattering teeth. Long delayed shock was starting to set in.
Simone managed to get to her feet where she stood swaying, her hands gripping the back of a heavy wooden chair. The Lady walked up to her and gently brushed a strand of hair from the younger woman’s eyes.
‘Dougie, please be a good henchman and make yourself scarce for awhile. Go clean the car, or your cosh or something. This is a woman thing.’
‘Right you are, Madame. Ring when you need me.’ The man padded off, discreetly closing the door behind him.
‘Now let’s have a proper look at you,’ Simone’s captor continued. ‘First of all, strip those clothes off. They’re quite the worse for wear, if you don’t mind me saying.’
Throughout the ordeal Simone had been wearing the business suit in which she had begun the previous day, a Friday that seemed ages ago. The satin jacket and skirt were streaked with grime picked up from the various floors on which she had been forced to lie, and the thin silk top was creased and sweat stained. Although she felt intimidated by the woman, and very vulnerable, it was good to slip off the jacket, skirt and top.
Madame shook her head. ‘The bra, pantyhose, and panties too, dear. Don’t worry, I’ll get you something to cover your modesty once you’ve had your bath.’
She walked to Simone and took the armload of flimsy but badly grimed and creased garments from the young woman’s hands. As she drew back, she allowed Simone’s silk top to brush palpably across one of the girl’s firm breasts. Simone gave a little shiver and raised one hand in an ineffective gesture to cover herself.
‘Put your hand down my dear. Turn round a couple of times for me. Hmm. Not bad! I’m allowing you half an hour so make the most of it,’ said Madame in a faintly bemused voice. ‘You’ll find a light touch of make-up will help you feel better too, though I must say that you have a naturally fresh complexion. And a wonderful body too! Now hurry up!’ She handed a large towel to Simone. ‘Remember, only thirty minutes.’
The hot water felt glorious and when Simone emerged from the bathroom fresh and glowing, wrapped in the large towel, Madame’s eyes lit up. ‘You are very beautiful my dear. Dougie’s going to enjoy tying you up again. So will I for that matter.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d consider keeping me locked up without any ropes?’
‘No chance of that, I’m afraid. We’ve already taken a small risk by allowing you to freshen up. But when we get into the country late tomorrow we may relax our rules. As it is, if you screamed really loud, someone in another apartment might hear you. Now, I’ve chosen this for you to wear. It’s from your boutique’s own French collection, one of the most expensive items.’ The Lady held up a full slip of glistening white silk with a lace bodice. ‘The central heating in here will keep you comfortable.’
Simone instantly fell in love with the simple garment as she drew it on over her head. The folds of the shimmering material fell to about four inches above her knees, caressing her thighs with every movement. The lace was understated and exquisitely fine. It began just below her bosom from a diaphanous panel that formed most of the bodice and moulded itself around the upper curves of her breasts, leaving them partly exposed. Simone stretched luxuriously. She had never felt more feminine than at that moment, her body pampered by the touch of silk though with the uncomfortable knowledge that she was a prisoner who would soon be bound once more and very probably gagged. But she was a prisoner that her captors were caring for, and this thought gave her a little more confidence to face the traumas that might lie ahead.
But a disturbing thought entered the young woman’s mind. It came scarcely unbidden. For, as the Lady made no further move, Simone began to suspect the worst.
‘Is- Is this all?’ asked Simone with a faint quaver as the expected additional garments failed to materialise.
‘As I just said,’ replied Madame in a sharper voice, ‘You will be warm here. You don’t need anything else.’
‘B- But ... underwear?’ Simone persisted aghast. She felt overwhelmed by a deep reserve. Though she had never considered herself prudish, her whole being refused to accept that it could really be happening. ‘I- I need a bra ...’ She looked down at her smooth flat midriff and the dark hint of areolae beneath the lace. ‘This bodice is nearly transparent!’
Madame laughed aloud at Simone’s discomfiture.
‘It’s such a shame not to have a little fun. You’re prettily endowed, and I’m sure Dougie won’t mind. Especially when you bounce around a little when your wrists are snug behind you again. And you’ll think twice about running away, if in the unlikely event you get partly free. All that bouncing around ...’
Simone was quiet a moment, then, ‘Well, at least let me have my panties back?’ she asked hopefully.
The Lady in Black laughed again, but this time there was a clear tone of annoyance as she added quickly, ‘No way, dear. More discouragement, see?’
There was a polite knock at the door. Madame called, ‘Enter,’ and in walked Douglas pushing before him a trolley with the makings of a continental breakfast on the top tray. The coffee smell seduced Simone’s taste buds and her mouth began to water.
‘It’s still rainin’ outside. Fair gives me the willies ...’ Douglas stopped in his tracks, a stunned expression on his face as his eyes fell on Simone, silken clad, her dark hair glowing around her shoulders,
‘Isn’t she gorgeous, Dougie? We haven’t really had time to stop and take a close look at our lovely prisoner until now.’ She turned to Simone, ‘One more favour to you, ‘cos we need it too, is breakfast. I imagine you’re famished.’
The meal was short and conducted in silence. Simone was allowed to use the bathroom once more. Then she was stood in the centre of the bedroom and watched apprehensively as Douglas unrolled and sorted out several large coils of cord, laying them on the bed neatly side by side. But it was Madame who chose a thin coil and approached the young woman.
‘We’d better get started dear. Turn around please and put your arms behind your back with your wrists side by side.’ Simone obeyed, but she was starting to shake, and when she felt the cord begin to snake around her wrists she could not stop herself from flinching. ‘Ah ah, none of that! ... That’s better. Keep nice and still. Dougie, we may require Mam’selle to wear only this oh so lovely undergarment for her stay with us. Would you like that?’
‘Yers,’ came the enigmatic reply.
Simone watched in a mood of weary detachment as Madame bound her wrists together. She did not take it all in at first, but she soon realised that her hands were being tied in a very neat and elaborate pattern. Thin cord was circled loosely three or four times around her wrists and a double knot tied off. Then the rest of the same length of cord was passed between her wrists a couple of times and made tight with another doubled knot. This had the effect of snugging the loose bindings close to her skin without actually biting into it, but it felt all the same that she would not be able to slip free, as though she was wearing handcuffs of rope. Simone could twist her wrists around within the snug loops and could move her hands about. She crossed and uncrossed them experimentally.
Madame chuckled. ‘Feel a bit flexible does it? That’s intended, but it won’t last.’
The woman retrieved another thin piece of cord from the bed and returned to Simone. ‘Cross your wrists again, Honey, like you did a moment ago.’
Simone obeyed. This time her wrists were looped by the cord vertically before it was drawn tight and double-knotted, then again horizontally in what would have been the more conventional sort of wrist tie if the preceding turns and knots had not been applied. The remaining ends of the cord were used to cinch between Simone’s crossed wrists. Now the young woman was unable to move her hands in any direction. When she tried to do so, her fingers fluttered uselessly.
Next Madame bound Simone’s arms just above her elbows and drew the cord tight, forcing her arms closer together as far as her crossed wrists allowed without excessive pain. Simone stood before her two captors, her arms a single helpless unit behind her back, tied now so securely that her breasts were lifted prettily, the outline of her nipples and areolae clearly visible beneath the lace of her full slip.
Madame stepped back and inspected Simone once again. ‘You’ll discover my dear that there’s an ... ah, ulterior purpose in such finery, which your present bonds so nicely highlights. I could have chosen other equally scrumptious clothes for you to wear, but that little nothing gives just the right ... ah, je ne sais quoi, if you know what I mean? A rather neat balance between, let us say, minimal practicality and maximal vulnerability. You won’t feel quite like escaping into the mud and slush of our country residence, if this rain keeps up.’
Simone was led to the wooden chair by Madame as Douglas made ready with a length of slightly thicker cord in his hands.
‘Sit down please my dear,’ said Madame, ‘This is where you’ll spent the morning, and probably most of the afternoon as well.’
As Simone was lowered into the chair, her arms were lifted carefully over the smooth wooden backrest. It fitted neatly just beneath her armpits. For this to happen in any way that was comfortable, however, the girl’s lower back had to be pressed hard up against the wooden slats. Douglas made sure it would remain that way by tightly winding a long piece of rope four times around Simone’s waist. He made the knot fast at the side so that it would be away from her fingers.
The man then knelt and bound Simone’s ankles firmly together side by side, cinching the rope between in the same way that her hands had been done but a lot tighter so that there was no freedom of movement for her legs. He repeated the binding and cinching, welding her legs together with rope higher up below her knees, then above them, and around her thighs over the slip, without cinching. Douglas took his time about it, letting his fingers, then a hand slide caressingly over the young woman’s calves and thighs. More rope was applied across Simone’s lap and around the seat of the chair. The lower part of her body was finished off when her ankles were lashed securely to one leg of the chair so that she had to sit with her legs to one side.
When Douglas came to his feet, he walked quickly behind the bound woman, his body slightly crouched in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the bulge in his trousers from her gaze. Madame chuckled softly. Simone tried to show no sign that she had seen. Her own troubles were enough to occupy her mind.
Between them, Madame and Douglas roped Simone’s upper body, passing the coils of one piece below Simone’s bosom and through the struts of the chair back, winding it three times and knotting it off to one side. They did the same three windings with another piece of rope just above the young prisoner’s breasts. But it did not end there. Douglas carefully cinched the ropes that bound Simone’s torso with another very long rope that passed across her shoulders.
Simone could still move her arms a little, for they had not been included in the body ties. Then this small freedom was taken from her as Madame passed a short piece of cord between the girl’s rigidly bound wrists and attached it to a rung beneath the chair. When the cord was tightened, Simone’s arms were stretched downwards so that she could not move them at all. To make doubly sure that their prisoner was inescapably trussed up, they looped ropes separately around her upper arms and her forearms above the wrist ties, passing them across her body and knotting them against her arms.
‘This is overdoing it somewhat,’ said Madame, ‘But we can be confident you won’t be wandering off today. If you behave, we might not tie you so stringently in future. But this first time is a good lesson. You will be freed when we are ready to free you, and not a moment earlier.’
Simone tried to move, but all she succeeded in doing was to strain against the cords. She was fixed rigidly to the chair, unable to budge at all except for her head which she could turn from side to side. She looked down at herself. The relatively short skirt of her silk slip had ridden up her thighs as far as it could go before meeting Dougie’s ropes.
‘See what I mean by vulnerability, Sweetie?’
Madame was standing in front of her, hand on hip, a pensive frown on her face. ‘I’m wondering how best to gag you,’ she said in reply to Simone’s unspoken look of what next?
‘I- I don’t mind not being gagged.’
‘Well you would say that, wouldn’t you? I have to remember that we are still in a built-up area and that a gag is necessary so the neighbours won’t hear. Do you want to negotiate something?’
Simone thought for a moment. ‘Well ... if I had to be gagged at all, could it be just with a handkerchief or a silk scarf. I promise I won’t try to call out.’
‘Such promises are worthless when they’re from a bound captive. I’d say that too if I was in your position, but I’d have no intention of keeping it if the right opportunity came along. And that’s okay. It just means that the abductor has to take these precautions. No offence meant. The other thing is that unless it’s tied very, very tightly a handkerchief or a scarf won’t do a good enough job of keeping you quiet. And I don’t want to subject you to pain as long as I can help it. You couldn’t stand a morning, let alone a whole day, with your jaws tied wide apart as they’d have to be tied with a single piece of material.’
Simone thought it wise not to remind Madame that she had been gagged for hours with layers of silk that fitted the description of being subject to pain. Instead she said, ‘Please don’t gag me the way I was last night. The first time it was almost choking me, and the second time I could hardly breath with that horrible tape around my mouth.’
‘Hmm. I can’t promise that we won’t use either of those methods again. But right now it’s probably good enough to keep any sound you might want to make to a safe level without being too rough on you. You’re trussed up very tight and there’s no way you’re getting out of those knots. And today one of us will always be here, in the adjoining room. Tomorrow will be different, and we have to take precautions tonight as well. But in the meantime I think I know just the thing.’
Madame turned and walked towards the bathroom.
Simone thought uneasily, What can she be getting, a terry towel, a face flannel? Whatever it was, Simone knew she was going to be gagged again and, judging by the thoroughness with which it had been done all the other times, she would not enjoy it any better.
Brian Sands 2002