ROBBERY AT THE SWANK BOUTIQUE
By Brian Sands
From Sunset Beach, Damsels in the Dark, another site lost in the bandwidth war
Chapter Six: Saturday Night & Sunday Morning
Wrapped in a huge white towel, Simone stood on the threshold between the bathroom and the bedroom and faced Madame in Black, who was lazily inserting a new cigarette into the holder that she held fastidiously between thumb and forefinger.
Taking her courage in her hands, Simone blurted out, ‘Please don’t be so rough with me. I’ll do what you tell me. Maybe I can do something for you too.’
‘Like what, for instance?’ asked Madame suspiciously.
‘I - I can ...’ the right words failed Simone for a moment, then with a touch of inspiration she said, ‘Maybe I can make breakfast for you and Dougie. I can do a good scrambled eggs ...’
Madame gave a harsh laugh, then became thoughtful. ‘I’ll consider it, my Dear. It’s pleasing that you’re willing to be our, ahh, slave during your sojourn with us. I’m a continental breakfast person myself, but Dougie does like his eggs. Hen’s eggs, duck’s eggs diamante. Hmm. I think we can do a deal with you.’
Simone relaxed visibly. The first step in her plan had been taken.
‘However,’ said Madame, ‘for tonight we’ll eat what Dougie provides. Then we’ll put you to bed, very securely.’
Simone shuddered. Her thoughts revolted at the expectation of more ropes and, even worse, the tight suffocating gags she had been forced to suffer. But she was at their mercy. In an attempt to shrug off the paralysis of fear, she asked hesitantly, ‘P-please, am I allowed to wear something tonight?’
‘I don’t see why not, since you ask so nicely ... Oh here’s Dougie with din-dins. I’ll sort out something for you later.’
Douglas had prepared a light evening meal of a very United Kingdom nature, spotted dick served up with small portions of haggis, to spice up the meal he said. Simone ate sparingly. It was not her idea of a round meal, but she was being fed at long intervals and she had to keep her strength up if she was going to make an escape attempt. Simone made sure that she drank plenty of water. The agonising hours in that chair bound and gagged had left her dehydrated and weak. Physical weakness in fact would be her greatest enemy.
The meal was short. Stifling a faint burp, Madame said, ‘Hurry up, dear. As soon as you take that slip off, you can use the bathroom.’
Simone obeyed without a word, eager to get herself freshened up under the shower. She returned quickly to the bedroom where Madame stood waiting. Douglas was not there. He had left, ostensibly to wash up the plates and cutlery and put them away, but Simone suspected it had been also at Madame’s bidding.
‘Drop the towel, Dearie. There are only two women here. Ahh ...’ Madame hissed softly through here teeth. ‘Here. Put this on.’
Simone took the garment that was offered. It was another expensive French fashion slip in the purest silk, black this time with lace at the bodice and at the hem. Simone wriggled into it, thankful to have some covering, but she was so tired from her ordeal that she needed Madame’s help. The material clung to her, moulding around her waist and over her breasts. But the hem scarcely covered the tops of her thighs, a lot higher than the slip she had worn earlier.
‘You might have been hoping for a nightdress,’ said Madame, ‘and there are some superb ones in the collection. But I think this is more suitable.’
‘It -it feels nice,’ replied Simone a trifle lamely.
‘I thought you might like it. You know, Simone cherie, I think you’re a little vain. And with good reason. You have a lovely figure. But now we have more serious business to attend to ... Dougie!’
‘Yers?’ Douglas appeared at the door, book in hand.
‘I need you to help with Mam’selle. Bring the cord. You can get started.’
As Douglas approached, Simone turned her back and presented her arms behind her.
‘No,’ said Madame quickly, ‘your hands are to be bound in front.’
Simone watched, puzzled, as Douglas with great deliberation and several pauses to observe his growing handiwork, bound her wrists in front of her. He ended by cinching the cords between her wrists and making them fast.
‘Comfy?’ asked Madame.
Simone nodded. If I’m kept tied like this, she thought, I should be able to pull out any gag they put on me.
But Madame seemed to anticipate her thoughts.
‘You think you’ll get out of these bonds, don’t you? We have a little disappointment for you. Dougie, hand me some of those pieces of cloth. I’ll apply the gag on milady myself.’
Simone had to stand straight and still. She felt once again utterly helpless as Madame efficiently set about the task of gagging her. It was as effective as the gag she had worn all day, and just as frightening.
At Madame’s ironically polite request, Simone opened her mouth and accepted a thick bunch of silk. When that had been stuffed in behind the young woman’s teeth to Madame’s satisfaction, another silk scarf was applied. This scarf had a knot in it. The knot was pressed firmly between her teeth and she was told to bite down on it and work it deeper into her mouth behind her teeth, compacting the gag that already entrammelled her tongue. The short ends of the rolled cloth protruded from the corners of her mouth.
Ignoring the faint retching sounds, Madame took up the leather half-mask and strapped it over Simone’s head and face. Simone tried to pull away and received a light cuff across one breast for her attempt. With tears in her eyes, she stood still again while Madame pulled the restraining straps tight.
‘There,’ said Madame a little breathlessly. ‘You shan’t be able to cry out with your mouth held open and plugged up. But you should be able to sleep a little, when you’ve adjusted to the discomfort of course.’
‘Glggg?’
‘Mad-arm, maybe she needs a little more muffling?’
‘Good idea, Dougie. We’ll use my Hermes scarf.’
Lady in Black took the long flimsy scarf from around her neck, folded it to half its length, and with a couple of movements folded it again lengthwise to produce a broad band of eight layers. This was drawn across Simone’s lower face and knotted very tightly into a half bow at the back of her neck. The knot was wedged between the two transverse leather straps of the mask so that the silk tightly wrapped Simone’s face from over her chin to under her nose, covering the mask in a non-slip bandage.
‘Let’s try the gag test.’ Suiting her actions to her words, Madame placed both hands over Simone’s breasts, found the young woman’s nipples, and pinched them sharply through the lace.
‘Glgggggg.’
‘Yers. Ve’ good Mod-arm.’
‘Quite so, Dougie. Now to finish up and turn in ourselves ... Come Dear, beddy-byes.’
Simone was conducted to the bed that she had often looked at longingly during those moments when she could see. The bedspread was flung wide and she climbed onto the covers without assistance though hampered by having her hands tied in front of her. She lay down on her side, but Madame immediately took her by the shoulders and rolled her onto her back. Simone’s arms were then raised above her head and an additional piece of cord was fastened from her wrists to the decorative ironwork of the headboard. While Madame was doing this, Dougie roped Simone’s ankles together and lashed the end of the rope to the foot of the bed.
Her two captors stood back and gloated over their prisoner. Simone lay stretched securely on the bed. It was not as painful as a rack might have been, but there was very little freedom of movement. Perhaps with an effort she might be able to turn onto one side or the other, but this seemed unlikely with her arms raised so rigidly above her.
Simone looked down the length of her body to the bindings at her feet and saw what the air conditioning had at that moment apprised her of. Through a combination of her arms being raised and legs stretched to the foot of the bed, the lustrous black silk of the slip had ridden up so that the translucent lace of the hem now barely covered them. In fact, a trace of dark curly hair peeped from beneath the lace. She turned to her captors and saw Dougie staring intently while Madame stood to one side, an amused look on her face. Simone blushed crimson.
Then, ‘Enough voyeurism, Dougie! Cover our little friend so she won’t freeze overnight.’
As Douglas reached across Simone and took the thick motel style bedspread in his hands, the young woman could see the bulge in his trousers. The man succeeded in taking a closer look before the bedspread was pulled across her. Tenderly, he tucked her in, arranging the covering over her feet and gently at her chin.
‘A pretty sight indeed! said Madame. ‘But there’s one more finishing touch.’
The broad strip of bedsheet was pulled over Simone’s head and face, sealing her in stifling darkness.
‘That’s as necessary now as it was this afternoon. Sleep - ahaa - tight, little one.’
Douglas and Madame left the room and Simone was alone with her thoughts, bound, gagged, hooded, and helpless once again.
*
The night passed in many ways like a replay of the daylight hours of Simone’s captivity. Instead of being trussed into a heavy chair with her arms behind her, the young woman was stretched firmly but not too painfully on the bed. But it was uncomfortable enough and her arms began to ache within a few minutes. Moreover, they felt cold from the air conditioning - though that had been turned down a little - while the rest of her body felt warm and snug. After the bath she felt fresh and clean, her body pampered by the feel of the new silk slip. And it was wonderful to be warm after shivering all day in the air conditioning. She could even manage to turn onto one side, although this comfort was offset by the additional weight on the shoulder that she had to rest upon.
The blindfold was as stifling as the hood had been, but it did allow her to breathe. All the same, Simone thought that she would never get used to the darkness, and every so often she strained in her cords and whimpered as another attack of claustrophobia overwhelmed her briefly.
She had to remind herself continually to keep the mouth packing away from the back of her throat. But the knotted gag between her jaws caused a new discomfort. It was slowly drying her mouth out by absorbing the drool it stimulated. And the combination of having her mouth filled with cloth, then held open by the knotted silk, muffled by the jaw-immobilising leather half-mask, all of it compacted by the silk bandage wrapped tightly about her face, made sure that only the faintest sound escaped.
Astonishingly, Simone slept for a good part of the night, although she became panicked each time she awoke to the horror of bonds, choking, helplessness and occluded. Her physical exhaustion contributed to the periods of sleep her body gave her. But there was a continual shift back and forth from the merciful unconsciousness of sleep to frantic and useless straining against her bonds every time she woke, that pushed her back towards exhaustion.
Simone felt curiously relaxed and detached when the increased murmur of motor vehicles told her that the build up of early morning traffic in the city must have begun. She rubbed her sealed face against an arm and sobbed with the realisation that she had not been experiencing a nightmare but that her bonds and gag were all too real.
She did not fall asleep again, however. Instead, Simone lay still and listened with every nerve for any sign of movement from her two captors. She tried to think of an escape plan, but she had to admit that that was dependent on her bonds becoming somehow easier to slip.
There were so many factors to allow for this to happen. One was a less rigid way of being tied. She tried to remember what she had seen in films. Simone had always paid attention whenever a heroine landed in the mess she was now in, bound and gagged by the villains. She experienced a vicarious thrill of excitement, imagining that it was herself captured and awaiting the right moment to free herself, or for the arrival of the hero to rescue her.
She thought of some possible escapes: cutting her wrist bonds on something, a knife or a handy piece of broken glass, or a metal wall fitting. Burning the ropes over a candle flame or melting them in acid had never seemed like a practical solution. It was too dangerous. Or there was the trick of getting to a phone and dialling or pushing the buttons for help, using her fingers or her nose or a pencil held in her mouth if the sort of gag allowed for it.
Simone quickly came to the conclusion that these things would be possible only in two circumstances. The first required that she not be anchored to something, though some heroines could reach a phone or a knife to cut their bonds by hopping across the floor in the chair to which they were tied. The other circumstance, and it was a clincher, required that she be able to see both what she was doing and what she was doing it with. If she were kept blindfolded or hooded she would have no idea what objects there were in the room that might offer a way out. What was more, she found that the experience of being hooded or blindfolded disoriented her in a very short time, and created a sort of apathy.
Her present situation ruled out all escape. She was anchored securely to the bed. She was unable to see. Breathing was difficult and took a lot of her attention. Her body had gone into shock a long time ago and this led to physical depletion. She felt dizzy and disoriented. All she could hope for was that some of those circumstances might change. She couldn’t be kept bound and gagged and blindfolded like this all the time. Could she? With a sinking heart, Simone knew that yes she could! She had already spent virtually twenty-four hours trussed and helpless, unable to speak or see. And from what she knew already of Madame’s character this was very unlikely to change, not in the short-term anyway.
But if she was bound less ferociously, if there was sometimes no blindfold, maybe something would change. What were their habits? What routines did Madame and Dougie follow?
A key rattled in the lock to the bedroom door, startling Simone to attention. The door did not bang this time so it was with a jolt that Simone felt hands on her forearms, testing the cords at her wrists. She moved her head weakly and moaned softly through the silks and leather that sealed her face. As if in reply, the hood was pulled off and she was blinking against the early morning light filtering through the window. At that moment a gust of spray struck the windowpane from outside. It was still raining. She had been vaguely aware of the storm in the night during her troubled sleep.
‘Rise and shine!’ exclaimed Madame ironically. She pulled down the covers as far as Simone’s waist and examined her prisoner. ‘Sleep well, Sweetie? No? Well I don’t blame you. We’ve kept you tied up from the beginning aside from those nice bathroom breaks we’ve allowed. And I’m sorry to inform you that today will be more of the same. Are you ready for the bathroom?’
Simone nodded eagerly.
As she helped her prisoner sit up and removed the scarf bandage, leather half-mask and covering gag from the girl’s mouth, Madame added with a chuckle, ‘I’ve been thinking it over and, just for fun, we will let you prepare breakfast for Dougie and me.’
When Simone emerged from the bathroom she felt more refreshed. But she was weak and could barely stand. Madame had to help her put on the black silk slip she had worn as a nightdress.
‘You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten,’ said Madame coldly, ‘But first you have to do breakfast for us. What would you like Dougie?’
‘Yers, I’ve have scrambled eggs an’ bacon.’
‘It will be a pleasure,’ said Simone, attempting to make every word sound sincere.
‘Dougie, her hands.’
Simone’s wrists were tied loosely in front of her with one of the pieces of cord. About a foot separated them. Dougie then knelt and hobbled her ankles with another cord so that she could take only short steps. The man came to his feet and Madame handed him the knotted silk scarf that Simone had held between her teeth all night. Dougie untied the knots, shook out the scarf and bunched it in his hand. The cloth was still damp as it was pushed into the young woman’s mouth.
For a wild moment Simone thought that she might have a chance to tear the gag from her mouth and scream for help through the window when they entered the kitchen. But it was not to be. While Dougie held her head steady, Madame finished the job of gagging their captive by once again strapping the padded mask tightly over her face. The soft leather pressed against her lips and made it impossible for her to eject the gag with her tongue. And when Simone’s hands strayed involuntarily to her face, Madame did nothing to prevent it.
The Woman in Black laughed at the look of consternation in the girl’s eyes as her fingers sought to pull the padded leather away. But she slapped her hand sharply when Simone attempted to raise her arms to the side of her head in search for the buckle that nestled at the back of her neck.
‘I see we’ll have to continue to keep a sharp eye on you my Dear,’ muttered the Lady in Black as she sealed a wide strip of tape over the buckle, clucking her tongue in exasperation.
She then slapped her prisoner unceremoniously on one of her buttocks and propelled her roughly out the door towards the kitchen at the other end of the apartment.
As Simone approached the kitchen bench she saw that the window shades were drawn. Commuters from the apartment block were thus denied the startling sight of a beautiful dark haired woman clad only in a short lacy slip, her face strapped up in a leather mask, her wrists loosely tethered together, awkwardly preparing breakfast.
‘Make the most of what little freedom you have, Dearie,’ said Madame through a mouthful of toast and jam, which did not hide the malicious tone in her voice. ‘This is the day we transport you to our country residence.’
Simone’s heart went cold and she almost fainted. She knew what that meant.
ã Brian Sands 2002