My life was
now a combination of
comfort and
confusion. Perhaps two months had
passed since I had been stolen away from my old life with all its small
highs
and lows. Despite all the lavish
attention from Alison and Paul I knew I was still something that had
been
bought and paid for. I was in fact
their property.
I thought a lot about my old
life and if anybody had
missed me? I had no living parents, no
real friends and an ex-husband who didn’t care. ‘Susan
Reed; the forty-one year old office manager has not been
seen since such a date’. Doubtless I was now listed as a ‘Missing
person’ and
the authorities would be appealing to the public for information
regarding my possible
whereabouts. Thousands of people
vanished each year, never to be seen again.
I would soon become another statistic.
After the bank repossessed my modest home and my job was given
to
somebody else, I would cease to exist in the everyday world.
Apart from my young benefactors only five
people knew of my fate and one of those was poor Hazel who had been
held
prisoner with me.
I was still a
prisoner but with
each new day I was
granted some small new freedom. My
prison was a large country house in one of the midland counties.
Alison told me that we were virtually alone
for two miles in any direction and the house was accessible only by a
narrow
and winding private road. The house had
been built only recently; the outside was quaint and rustic looking but
within
was totally in keeping with modern trends.
My room was at the top of the house and had a quite charming
view of the
English countryside. There were green fields, well ordered patches of
woodland,
hills rolling away gently in the distance and a few scattered farm
buildings. The room in which I spent
countless hours was spacious, light, airy and decorated in the best
possible
taste. TV, DVD, Hi-Fi were all there
along with an exercise bike that saw a great deal of use.
Everything I needed seemed to be contained
within that room except company.
Allison and Paul both worked long hours during the week so I
could count
on twelve hours of solitude for every five days out of seven.
Weekends were different and far better,
Alison would make a real fuss of me but Paul was slightly more distant.
Alison and Paul were sister and
brother and they were
alone in the world. A freak yet
terrible accident had robbed them of everyone they had ever cared
about.
They both had considerable wealth, some
inherited and the rest by their own enterprise. Alison
had her own Interior Design Company and Paul was a
successful Architect. I knew they liked
me and despite the strange situation I felt my affections growing for
them,
particularly for Alison. She was a beautiful girl with short dark hair,
dark
eyes, lovely skin and her slim and tidy frame had all the right curves.
Alison
was twenty-six, Paul was twenty-eight.
Paul shared his sister’s good looks.
They were both well educated and had impeccable manners. Each
evening we dined together.
I would always dress for dinner trading the
jeans and sweatshirt I wore during the day for a black silk dress,
black
stockings and high-heels. Paul was an excellent cook and they boasted a
fine
wine cellar. Alison, Paul and I would
talk of current events and things we liked.
I thought it would be somehow rude to talk of my situation but
no matter
how pleasant things seemed I was still their prisoner.
However, the subject was never
discussed. I was locked in my room both
night and day. Some evenings they did
take me for walks in the large garden at the back of the house. At
weekends
Allison and I would spend quality time together and the rules of the
weekdays
were relaxed. Before I had been
abducted I had been known as Sue but now something made
me insist
on being called Susan. Occasionally
Alison and Paul might call me ‘Auntie Susan’, I found this to my liking
and
wished that they would use it more often.
There had
only been the need to
tie me up and gag me
on two occasions so far. It was a very
different scenario from when Jason and Robert had held me prisoner and
the
brief time I had spent as a ‘Guest’ of
the fearsome blonde woman and her hefty, bearded partner.
Allison had taken the responsibility of
making me secure, Paul declined to be involved.
Once a month
a gardener called
Mister Peters would
come to tend to the lawn, flowerbeds and shrubs at the back of the
house. My room overlooked this area.
‘I really
don’t want to tie you
up’. Alison had told me.
‘But we have to still be careful, I hope you
understand?’
‘I do’.
I
replied softly and in truth I did. I
had been kidnapped and was being held prisoner but somehow I did not
hold my
young benefactors responsible.
‘I can give
you a sedative and
put you to bed for the
day?’ Alison offered by way of an
alternative.
‘No, tie me
up to my favorite
chair and put me in a
spot where I catch the light’. I had
told her. ‘Don’t hold back Alison, it’s
important you tie up and gag me in a proper and secure fashion like
that awful
blonde woman you bought me from did’. I
could not quite believe what I was saying, was this me talking?
Alison was
slightly bemused by
my insistence on
dressing up for the occasion. It somehow
seemed the thing to do; recently I had spent too much time dressed just
for
comfort. Alison and Paul always
complimented me when I made an effort with my attire and also I had a
fabulous
new wardrobe to play with. While Alison
went off to get the ropes to secure me with I did something with my
hair and
selected an outfit. I noticed that
Alison had neglected to lock the door.
Was this a test? I found myself
giving the matter the little thought and concentrated on making myself
smart
and attractive. I chose a white silk
blouse, a black skirt, black stockings (tights were not allowed in my
new
fashion regime) and black high-heeled shoes.
I wore my hair down.
‘Well, Auntie
Susan!
You’ll make a very smart prisoner!’
Alison smiled upon her return.
She was holding several lengths of white cotton rope, nothing
for a gag
but there were plenty of materials in my room that could be utilized
accordingly. ‘Shall we get started? Mister Peters will be
here in half an hour’.
Alison had
tied me to my
favorite chair in a favorite
spot in the room. She sang softly to herself as she secured me, her
brow
slightly creased with concentration. I
sat with what I thought the correct posture of a captive should
be.
The tasking of binding me took perhaps
fifteen minutes. Alison tied the final
knot that was on the three turns of rope tightly pressing my black
nylon clad
ankles together. My wrists were crossed
and bound to the horizontal spar at the chairs back, Alison had used
quite a
bit of rope and the knots were out of reach.
Several turns of the pristine rope were about both my chest
(comfortably
below my breasts) and my middle holding me firmly to the chair.
My stocking sheathed knees had a tight
binding just below them and a taut length of rope led from my bound
ankles up
to my bound wrists under the chair.
‘There!
Not
too uncomfortable?’ Alison raised her
dark eyes to me with concern; she was seemingly ready to take remedial
action
if I complained.
‘Not at
all’.
I told her. ‘Just right, now put
the gag on’.
‘I’m worried that you might not
be able to
breathe’. Alison said.
‘It’ll be
fine, just make sure
that I can’t make any
noise’. I assured her.
Alison
invaded the drawers and
from a pair found a
pristine white sock with a Nike logo, a white silk scarf and a diamond
patterned black one. Alison draped the
scarves over one arm and approached me while rolling up the sock into a
tight
ball. I opened my mouth and she deftly
stuffed the sock in. My mouth was full
of mass of cotton mixed with Lycra. Alison
then pressed the folded white scarf between my lips and
then knotted the ends tightly over my hair behind my head.
The black scarf was formed into a long and
wide rectangle and was soon securely fastened over my mouth, covering
the lower
part of my face from just under my nose to below my chin.
Alison pushed
my head down
gently and I felt her make
a couple of minor adjustments to my gag.
She then lifted up my chin and gently tapped my silk swathed
cheeks. The gagging package was
complete.
Alison then
heard a noise and
went to the window and
looked down. I saw her smile and then
turn back to me.
‘I finished
just in time, Mister
Peters has just
arrived,' she told me.
I then heard the buzzing sound of a
lawnmower.
‘Now will you
be alright?’ Alison asked me.
I
nodded.
My
sock packed mouth bulging behind the layers of trapping silk.
‘Well then, I
shall love you and
leave you’. And she did just that, locking
the door
behind her.
I settled down in my comfortable
chair and felt
relaxed and warm inside. I was also a
little excited. Here I was with
potential freedom so near and yet so far.
During his labors Mister Peters might look up at the house and
never in
his wildest dreams would he think that beyond one of the windows was a
captive,
bound and gagged woman. I thought it
was all fairly wonderful.
It was a
beautiful late summers
evening when Alison
took me on a walk away from the house.
It was after dinner and the sun was starting its languid descent
and the
sky glowed a rich orange. I walked with
Alison’s arm through mine and she told me about her problems at work,
how
stressed she was feeling and how she was not getting the support she
needed
from her employees. We walked down the
narrow private road that snaked away from the house down to the main
one. Hedgerows alive with small bounties
of wild
summer fruits lined our route, tiny insects floated on the warm air and
the
sound of the evening birdsong was a sweet music to hear.
This was indeed an English heaven.
Apart from it
being a treat I
knew this small outing
was also a test. Before we had left the
house I had suggested that Alison might care to tie my hands and gag me
before
leaving on the walk. She had said that
it would spoil the atmosphere and that she wanted to talk to me about
certain
things.
Rabbits with
their flashing
white tails scampered
across our path as we walked. They were
running away, would I?
‘Do you still
feel like a
prisoner?’ Alison asked me.
‘A little I
suppose.
You and Paul are very sweet to me and I’m very comfortable but
it’s the
tiny things I miss’.
‘Such as?’
‘Well, just
being able to come
and go for one and also
to be able to help around the house’.
‘I
see?’
Alison’s tone of voice signaled to me that I had given her
something to
think about.
We walked
slowly to the end of
the private road and
then back again to the house. Alison
had done most of the talking I just enjoyed this small period of
parole.
If it had been a test of trust I think I had
passed it. That night my door was not
locked.
In the week
that followed the
routine changed
considerably. I was no longer locked in
my room during the daytime; I had the complete run of the house, the
garden and
the surrounding countryside. This
change was a little hard to comprehend at first, so I extended my area
of
operations slowly and surely, gaining confidence with each move.
I would make
breakfast for
Alison and Paul before they
left for work. It was always a slightly
hurried affair but I think they were both touched by my efforts.
After they sped away for the day in their
matching Mercedes 4X4’s I would do the housework or the laundry and try
to
think up an imaginative menu if they were home for dinner that
evening.
There were seven phones in the house but I
let them all be. Who did I want to
call? In fact who did I have in the
world to call? On my second day of
liberation I was startled when the phone in the lounge began to
ring.
I was very nervous about picking it up, who
could it be?
‘Hello?’
I
answered softly; the handset trembled in my fingers.
‘Auntie
Susan, it’s Alison. How are things?’
‘Fine, I
think?
It seems a little strange’.
‘I’m sure it
does.
I’ll be back around six-thirty, see you then’.
‘Yes, of
course. Bye’. I marked up another small achievement.
I refused to
watch daytime TV so
in the afternoons I
would done my comfortable Nike trainers, take a bottle of water and go
for
walks in the local countryside. There
was a network of footpaths in the surrounding fields and hedgerows and
I
quickly grew familiar with them and I found several lovely spots where
I could
pick wild flowers. Alison was very
pleased by my progress.
Strangely I
did miss the
trappings of being a
prisoner. The locked doors and the
confined solitude, the ropes about my wrists and ankles, the soft
materials
gagging my mouth and being at someone’s mercy.
I had been kidnapped and sold to others. What
of now? What was my
position in life? There were so many
pleasurable distractions that I put these thoughts to the back of
mind.
I was now here just to please Alison and her
brother.
Three weeks
into the new routine
Alison rang another
change. We were in her large bedroom
discussing what would be the best outfit for Alison’s working lunch
with some
very important prospective clients the following day.
‘Do you drive
Auntie Susan?’
‘I do’.
I
replied.
‘What sort of
cars do you like?’
‘The ones I
can afford’. My taste in cars out of necessity had been
limited to the purely
functional.
‘Paul and I
want to get you a
car’.
‘You
mustn’t!’
I told her.
‘Why
not?
Would you drive off and not come back?’
‘No’.
I
said at once and this seemed to touch her.
‘It’s just that I’m spoilt enough’.
‘We’re
getting you a car and
that’s it. I’m taking Thursday off and
we’ll go out and
get you one’.
I waited
nervously for Thursday. It was a day out, mixing with
others.
Something I had not done for a seemingly
long time. My world had been the house
and the surrounding countryside. Alison
took charge of the day and I was most grateful that she would be there
with
me. Paul left after breakfast. He would be gone for two
days with important
meetings in London. Alison and I would
be left to our own devices.
Alison went
about quite a
transformation that
morning. She ditched her impeccable
suits and very expensive shoes and opted for a blue denim jacket over a
red
T-shirt, a denim mini skirt and some knee-high boots in soft gold
suede.
I thought she looked very cute.
Alison insisted that I dressed in a similar
fashion and despite initial misgivings I obliged. I
thought I was a little too old to wear such an outfit, Alison
told me not to be silly. We set out on
our odyssey in an excited fashion with Alison at the wheel of her huge
Mercedes.
When we
turned left out of our
private road neither of
us really noticed the black van parked on the other side of the main
road. Deep in our happy chatter neither of
us
really noticed that it was following us at a discreet distance.
Thrilled to be on a girl’s day out we had no
idea we were driving into a trap until it was too late.
It happened all so quickly.
The van suddenly sped up behind
us and then violently
overtook us. It cut right in front of
us. Alison gasped as she slammed on the
breaks. Two masked figures jumped out
of the van and rushed towards us. In
our shocked state Alison and I had no time to react.
The doors to the Mercedes were wrenched open and we were roughly
dragged out. Alison struggled in the
grip of the figure that held her and they swiftly covered her nose and
mouth
with a folded white cloth. My arm was
twisted painfully up my back as I was dragged towards the waiting van,
its side
door open. I saw Alison go limp in her
attackers arms and she was promptly hoisted over a strong shoulder and
carried
to the van. She was dumped on the floor
of the vans main compartment as cloth damp with a sweet smelling liquid
suddenly smothered my face. I could do
nothing but inhale the strange narcotic vapors and in seconds
everything went
black and purple.
There can’t
have been many big
abandoned office
buildings about but our kidnappers had managed to find one to hold us
in. To be kidnapped once is unfortunate
but to
be kidnapped twice is living dangerously.
My second ordeal was slightly different from the first if just
as
uncomfortable with the inevitable ropes and gags involved.
Alison had been the intended victim and was
being held for ransom. I had just been
unfortunate enough to be with her at the wrong time.
I knew that leaving the house had been a bad idea.
Alison was the prize and I was excess
baggage. The two kidnappers (one male,
one female by their voices) had openly discussed as to how to utilize
my
presence to their advantage.
‘Lucky we had
enough rope and
gags for two,' they had said.
They both
wore balaclava helmets
with holes cut for
the eyes and mouth and apart from the woman’s curves there was little
to
distinguish one from the other. They
knew all about Alison but nothing of me.
They could find no identification about my person for the simple
reason
that I had none in my new life.
They had
removed Alison’s gag
and asked. ‘Who is she?’
‘My Auntie
Susan,' she had told them.
‘I don’t
think so,' the female kidnapper had said.
‘In the paper it said you had no relatives left after the
accident?’
Being
reminded of the tragedy
plus the stress of the
current situation caused Alison to start crying. This
touched me and if I hadn’t been bound and gagged myself I would
have held her close and comforted her.
Alison was shown no sympathy as they gagged her again.
‘We could
continue to hold the
girl but let this one
deliver the ransom demand to the brother?’ the male kidnapper suggested
to his partner.
‘No.
That
makes
things complicated. I think we should
just hold on to both of them for now,' she had told him. Alison
and I
would remain as partners in discomfort.
They then left us.
It was
obvious that we were
being held as prisoners
several floors up. The office had been
open plan but every fixture and fitting had been torn out and the floor
was
bare concrete. Most of the windows were
broken and there was dust everywhere.
I stood
facing Alison. I stood tied to one pillar while she was
secured to one perhaps
ten feet away. Her eyes were still
moist with tears over the gag that covered half her face.
Our arms were pulled around the pillar with
the wrists crossed and bound. Tight
ropes were looped about our respective chests and middles further
securing us to
the unforgiving concrete. Our lower
limbs were bound at the thighs and ankles and like the rest of our
bodies
fastened to the pillar. I was grateful
for the suede boots Alison had suggested I wear they at least provided
a
measure of cushion against the tight ropes about my ankles.
Alison and I
had been gagged
effectively and
painfully. Our mouths had been packed
with rolls of medical gauze and then covered with strips of a
transparent but
very strong plaster. Wide bands of a
dark cloth had then been fastened about our mouths and then tied off
behind the
back of the pillar trapping our heads tightly in place.
Trying to move your head was virtually
impossible. All Alison and I could do
was stare at each other in our identical states of bondage. I
knew that it was Alison’s first experience
of being kidnapped, bound and gagged. I
sensed that she was quietly terrified but she was trying to be brave.
Our
kidnappers would free us
twice a day to use a
barely functioning toilet and to feed us cold and greasy burgers washed
down
with warm cans of Pepsi. Alison and I
were never free at the same time.
‘Your brother
has been rather
difficult to get hold
of,' the male kidnapper told
Alison. ‘When we did reach him he
thought it was a joke so we sent a picture of you to his phone.
Needless to say he is now very keen to get
you home safely’.
Alison’s
ransom was for one
million pounds. There had been no mention
of me in their
demands.
Four days
into our ordeal my
concern for Alison’s
health prompted me to do something.
These particular kidnappers had been the fourth set of captors I
had
endured in as many months. First there
had been the picture framers, Jason and Robert then the blonde woman
and the
man with the beard, Alison and Paul and now this masked pair. So
far I had not resisted or tried to escape
from any of the parties who had made me a prisoner.
Now it would be different.
I had heard
the two kidnappers
discussing their plans
for Alison. Paul has agreed to pay the
ransom. He was to drop off the money
for collection at a specified location and once the ransom was safely
in the
kidnappers hands Alison would be released.
However, Alison’s freedom was not to be bought that easily. The
kidnappers were careless with their
whispering and I heard their new plans of spiriting Alison away to the
continent and demanding a second even bigger ransom for her. They
planned to put her in a packing crate
and ship her to a Dutch port where others would take over the
responsibilities
of holding her prisoner. Alison’s life
was now in considerable danger. They
then talked of me, I was to be left bound to the pillar, and it did not
matter
if anyone found me or not. If left here
in my current bound state without being quickly discovered I knew I
would die. I definitely had to do
something.
I saw my
opportunity when the
female kidnapper guarded
us. She was growing bored, obviously
only interested in getting the ransom money and this could make her
careless. In the toilet cubicle there
was some broken glass on the floor and if I could get my hands on a
fragment I
might have a plan.
The way
Alison and I were gagged
it was incredibly
painful to try and move one's head, the tight band of cloth not only
tightly
covered our mouths but also held our heads fast to the pillar.
When the female kidnapper passed my line of
sight I made as much noise as I could through the gags in and about my
mouth. It swiftly had the desired
effect.
‘Stop that!’
she
said. ‘I can’t stand that
noise!’
I continued
with my gagged
protests.
‘If you want
to use the toilet,
you’ll have to wait!’
At the
mention of the word
toilet my choked noises
became even more frantic. It did not
take her long to give in to my muted requests.
‘Ok, Ok, but
just shut up with
those awful sounds!’
She removed
the cloth from about
my face but left the
other gags in place. I was swiftly
unbound and with her exerting a painful grip on my arm I was escorted
to the
cubicle on the far side of the office.
I did what I had to do and when she was not looking I managed to
pick up
a suitable piece of glass and hide it up the sleeve of my denim
jacket.
I meekly returned to the pillar where I was
again bound. In her haste she did not
check to see if there was anything up my sleeves. She
tied the cloth over my mouth and made it firm with an extra
tight knot behind the pillar.
‘Now, no more
noise!’
She jabbed a finger into my chest.
The glass
slid down from my
sleeve and into my hand
and I set to work. Holding the glass
sliver carefully between my first finger and thumb I began to saw away
at one
of the ropes binding my wrists behind the pillar. I
concentrated hard, if I dropped the glass it would all be for
nothing. It was much easier than I had
anticipated. It took me about ten
minutes to cut through the rope and then the rest of ropes loosened
accordingly.
With the
tight band of cloth not
just gagging my mouth
but also binding my head to the pillar I could not move my head to see
if our
captor was in our vicinity. I breathed
in deeply through my nose and risked all by bringing my newly liberated
arms
round to my front. I quickly brought
the glass up and cut away the cloth secured about my face.
I looked left and right, Alison and I were
alone.
I cut away
the ropes binding my
upper body to the
pillar and then began on those about my legs.
Suddenly I found myself staggering away from the pillar. I looked
up and saw the excitement in
Alison’s eyes over her gag. I peeled
off the plaster from my lips and spat out the rolled up gauze.
‘We’re
leaving this place!’ I whispered to Alison.
I stepped
behind her pillar and
quickly freed her
wrists. The gag was next.
I cut through the appallingly tight band of
cloth about Alison’s face and then managed to tease a corner loose on
the
plaster and pull it off her lips, I reached inside her mouth and
plucked out
the sodden gauze. Alison’s liberation
from her gag was followed by her chest and waist bindings.
I dropped to one knee as I cut through the
ropes about her thighs and ankles.
Alison
virtually collapsed into
my arms. I held her as she wept into my
denim-clad
shoulder. I stroked her hair and
whispered words of comfort.
‘Hey!’
A
voice
suddenly echoed across the denuded space of the abandoned office.
The female kidnapper stood perhaps twenty
feet away. It was obvious from her
hesitation regarding further action that she was on her own and now
outnumbered. Alison swiftly left my
embrace and angrily advanced on our captor with her hands clenched into
fists
at her sides.
‘Come here
you bitch!‘ Alison rushed at the kidnapper who promptly
turned and fled. Alison chased after her
until I called at
her to come back. Alison did as she was
told and stamped back, her dark eyes full of anger.
I took her by
the hand. ‘Lets get out of here’.
We found the
stairway and
quickly descended it until
we came to a door, which took a combined effort to get it open.
We stepped out into the sunshine and an
abandoned yard, which was surrounded by a fence. We
looked about us and then at each other. We
had been in the same clothes for five
days and were badly in need of a shower.
Our hair was wild and needed attention; our faces were smudged
with old make-up
and dirt. We started to laugh.
‘How are you
at fence climbing
Auntie Susan?’ Alison asked me.
‘Olympic
standard.'
I told her.
‘Race you!’
she
said and rushed at the fence.
Somehow we
both managed to climb
the fence and drop
down the other side giggling as we did so.
We found ourselves on a road in the middle of a semi derelict
industrial
estate; about half the buildings were boarded up. A
white Ford van suddenly appeared to our right and Alison rushed
over and flagged it down. I followed
her.
The driver
was a young male with
cropped hair,
sporting an earring and wearing a Manchester United shirt.
He looked down at us both with
puzzlement. We both gave him our
sweetest smiles.
‘Excuse me,'
Alison said in her cut glass voice.
‘We’ve just escaped from kidnappers, would you please take us to
the
nearest police station’.
The youth
nodded and indicated
that we should get
in. Alison and I clambered up into the
front passenger seats. The young driver
asked no questions as he drove us swiftly away from the rank and file
of
neglected buildings. Alison asked him
the name of the town we were in. When
he told her she was a little surprised.
‘That’s about
a hundred miles
from home,' she whispered to me.
We were soon
in the center of a
busy and prosperous
town. The van came to a halt outside an
impressive modern structure that contained both the local Police
headquarters
and law courts.
‘Can you
write down your name
and telephone
number?’ Alison asked the young
driver. ‘My brother will send you a
large reward for helping us.' He found
a scrap of paper and a ballpoint pen, rapidly scribbled out the
requested
details and handed them to Alison.
Alison looked them over and smiled warmly at the youth.
‘Thank you.'
She said. He smiled back and
nodded slowly. Alison and I then
climbed down from the van, which then promptly drove off.
Alison
skipped up the steps
towards the entrance of
the Police station, I followed and then catching her by the arm stopped
her. She turned to me; her beautiful
face bore a quizzical look.
‘Alison.' I
told her. ‘We have to tell the police
what happened’.
‘Of
course!’
she said. Her brow creased in confusion. ‘We
were kidnapped, they were asking a ransom for me but we
escaped’.
‘No Alison.'
I
said. ‘You’ll have to tell them
everything’.
The world
suddenly seemed to
stop as Alison and I just
stood on the steps and stared at each other.
The police
promptly informed
Paul that his sister and
her friend were now safe. He was
driving back up from London to take us home.
Alison and I
were checked over
by a Police doctor;
apart from being slightly dehydrated and bruised we were in good
health.
We were able to take showers and were given
a change of attire. We then made our
statements to the Police. Mine was far
longer than Alison’s. Paul arrived for
a happy reunion and took us home. The
Police said they would need to speak to both Alison and myself again in
the
very near future. Meanwhile safe in our
country retreat Alison and I read the newspaper headlines.
3 September
‘Women
escape
from
kidnap ordeal’.
9
September
‘Two
arrested
over
double kidnap’.
15
September
‘Kidnap
heroines
tell their story’.
However
it was another five
weeks before the headline
I was most interested in reading appeared in print.
12 October
‘Four
arrested
over
abduction and slavery ring’.
Three
men and one woman were
arrested
today regarding their involvement in the abduction of over a dozen
women. It is believed at this stage that
the women
were initially robbed before being sold on as slaves.
The arrests are the result of one of their victims coming out of
hiding. The forty-one year old former
victim has been granted anonymity and continues to assist the Police
with their
enquiries. It is understood that women
fitting a certain profile were almost abducted to order.
The Police have recovered from two of the
locations they searched items stolen from the victims such as credit
cards,
driving licenses and other personal documents.
The victims aged in range from thirty-five to forty-six years
old. The victims were both kept drugged
and bound
and gagged by their captors. The
suspects in custody consist of two men aged twenty-eight, a man aged
forty-seven and a woman aged fifty-two.
Bail has been refused. It is
hoped that by interviewing the suspects information will be obtained
regarding
the whereabouts of the missing women.
In
the months
that followed the two persons that had kidnapped Alison and I were
found guilty
of kidnapping and false imprisonment and were both sentenced to
fourteen years
in prison. They were both former
employees of Alison and Paul’s late parents.
Robert
and
Jason, the abducting picture framers were found guilty of abduction,
false
imprisonment, fraud and theft and both received sentences of sixteen
years. Jean Brown (the blonde woman)
and Ray Trowel (the bearded man) were found guilty of false
imprisonment, theft
and assault and were both jailed for fourteen years.
All
twelve of
the missing women including my former companion Hazel were located in
the UK and
Northern Europe. All were happy, safe
and well. While none would not testify
against those that had ‘Purchased them’ all were most keen to see
justice done
against those who had abducted and sold them.
None wanted to return to their old lives.
It
was the
same story for me. I had been kidnapped
and sold into slavery but refused to bring any charges against Alison
and
Paul. When questioned by the Police I
always referred to them as ‘My new family’, which was exactly what they
were.
One
year later.
Life
just
seemed to get better and better with every week that passed. I
looked after the house and worked three
days a week for Alison in her busy office.
Paul was spending a great deal of time working in America. He had
also found the time to fall in love
with a wonderful girl and was bringing her over soon to meet the other
women in
his life. I gave Alison gentle
encouragement regarding her getting a boyfriend and she did the same to
me. My new life was pleasantly hectic. However I did have a
monthly ritual that I
insisted was carried out.
Mister
Peters
came once a month to tend the garden. I
was still a secret to Mister Peters, we had never been introduced, and
in fact
he had never set eyes on me. My monthly
ritual demanded that nothing should change.
On the day I would wear something sexy and smart with some nice
shoes
and Alison would bind me to the chair in my room in a position almost
by the
window, which overlooked the garden as Mister Peters toiled.
I
was firmly
bound to the chair with the soft white ropes.
The pristine whiteness of the ropes was a pleasant contrast
against the
black nylon of my stockings with the tight turns about my ankles and
legs. Alison raided the wardrobe for the
sock and
two scarves that were always utilized as my gag.
‘Can’t
you
just sit and be silent Auntie Susan?’
Alison always asked. ‘Can’t you
just pretend to be gagged?’
‘No.' I told
her.
‘A gag is part of the ritual’.
Alison
would
shrug and then set to work. Timing was
important my gag had to be secure the moment Mister Peters
arrived.
With the sock stuffed in my mouth tightly
held in place by the folded scarves we would wait to hear the first
buzz of the
lawnmower. When the sound came Alison
would gently pat my gagged face, plant a kiss on the top of my head and
then
bid me goodbye for the day.
After
Alison
had left I would sit happy and contented, secure and silent. I
would think of Mister Peters hard at work,
still unaware of the captive woman close by, a helpless prisoner behind
one the
houses great windows.
Life
just
could not get any better.