Note:
After I had posted the first two chapters of this story, my old buddy Aardvark took my general story direction, and contributed this chapter. For future chapters, we may take turns, or work together. We'll see.
Jana Riley had a nose for a good picture. She wasn't the only photographer present by any means. But the others were congregating out front. Jana had researched her subject well enough to know that Diamond Dayle hated people as much as she loved her public. That's why she would sneak in at the rear. And there was only one place to park a Bentley. And that was where Jana was heading.
The Bentley in question was a Bentley Silver Cloud. Diamond Dayle had bought it for one reason alone. As a child, she had been an addict of the British TV puppet show Thunderbirds. And, of all the characters, she wanted to be Lady Penelope. That was why Diamond Dayle normally lounged in the back of the large vehicle, and why the man normally behind the wheel was dressed in a gray morning suit complete with peaked cap.
Today, however, things were different. Diamond Dayle had not achieved stardom by underestimating her public. And, she knew what her public wanted. They wanted a woman who was wealthy and successful, but was still feisty and independent. In short, they were overjoyed that Diamond Dayle owned such an expensive automobile. But, they expected her to drive it herself.
At the rear of the Car Show, the large, muscular security guard watched as the car purred gently to a halt. Diamond Dayle adjusted her long hair in the mirror, and then picked up a small silver hip ask from the seat next to her. The guard watched as she put it to her mouth and then took a long healthy gulp.
The guard adjusted his jacket self-consciously, and then, acting the part of the perfect host, he opened the rear door for Diamond Dayle and held it ajar for the singer to climb out. He stood there, all six foot four and two hundred and twenty two pounds of him, waiting for the singer to emerge. Seconds later, Diamond Dayle's trademark cowboy boots appeared, followed by a pair of tight blue Levi denims, and a checked cotton shirt which stretched tight over the singer's shapely chest. Diamond Dayle stood still for a moment in the doorway and straightened her outfit. The guard wondered if she did it on purpose to make him hold the door open for just that little longer. "Maybe we can get this thing over quickly and painlessly," he heard her say to herself. Then, without smiling, or acknowledging the guard, she moved away.
Jana, watching from the sidelines, knew that this was her moment to act. If she wanted some informal shots of Diamond Dayle, not posed photographs like the others would get, there would be no better opportunity. Holding her camera out-of sight behind her back, she moved towards the country and western singer.
As soon as Diamond Dayle saw her, a horrified stare came over her face, as if she had just found a speck of dirt on her recently cleaned checked shirt. Then, remembering that this was one of her public, her features broke into a rather forced and rather brittle smile.
Click, wssshhh, click wssshhh, click wssshhh, click wssshhh, click wssshhh, click wssshhh.... the camera rattled as Jana whipped her camera out front and took photo after photo, letting the film wind on automatically between each shot. She grinned to herself as the expression on the face of Diamond Dayle caught in her viewfinder turned from surprise to anger.
"Get her out of here, and get that film," Diamond Dayle screamed a second later."
"I don't think that's legal or very wise," the guard started.
"You're not paid to think," Diamond Dayle snapped angrily. Just get the film or I'll have you fired."
The guard stared at Diamond Dayle, stunned for a moment, perhaps on the verge of refusing and facing the consequences. Then, he changed his mind and looked back at Jana. But, before he could act, Jana Riley twisted around and headed back for the Show Room.
* * *
Unknown to either party, the scene was being watched from afar.
"So, that is the famous Diamond Dayle," Lupe Martinez said pocketing her small field glasses. "You chose well, Baroness, very well indeed. I think this so-called singer is going to be great fun to tame."
"Ah, fraulein," the Baroness said icily. I'm not sure that you appreciate the situation. Our deal is that you are to have the car and I am to have the singer. I know someone who will pay very well to have the buxom Miss Diamond Dayle at his beck and call. Of course if I make more money than you will on the deal, I will split the extra with you, fifty-fifty. That is only fair. But, in the meantime, the singer is mine. Do you understand? No funny business. You can have that nosy reporter to play with.... And her friend."
Next to her Lupe Martinez smiled. "Oh, I understand perfectly, Baroness, she said. "Perfectly."
* * *
Several miles away, Belinda Carver lay crushed in the rear of Ramon's automobile. She lay on her side. Her bound wrists pressed into the rear seat. Her knees were pulled up and wedged between the back of the driver's seat and her own body.
I have to free myself and warn Jana, she said to herself time and time again as she fought against her tight bonds and her squeezed position.
In truth, she had made little progress. The dirty blanket covering her was bad enough. Every time she struggled, dust and grime from it got into her eyes and clung to her skin and hair. Even the thick cloth gag, tied through her teeth, seemed to do nothing to prevent the dirt from working its way into the back of her throat. But, the ropes were even worse. Belinda was sure that like any heroine in any TV show she could work herself free. But the hard scratchy cord seemed to have no give at all. What was worse, the way her hands were tied behind her forced her to thrust out her chest. And however hard she tried, Belinda could do nothing to stop her breasts from straining against her the tight material of her white cotton shirt. Belinda felt sure that, any minute, the buttons down the front of her shirt would pop open. And the only thing she had on under it was a bra.
How could she escape? Belinda felt behind her. If only she could find a hard edge, perhaps she could fray the rope around her wrists. Nothing. Perhaps further down, she thought. She reached lower and her fingers came into contact with a hard bit of metal. If only she could get her wrists that far down. She tried to wriggle downwards, but she could do no better than an inch or two. Perhaps that would be enough. No, although her fingers could now reach the metal, her wrists were still inches short. If only. If only. Desperately, she strained her arms downwards. No, there wasn't enough width. To get her arms any lower she would have to arch her back. But with her knees pressed against her chest there just wasn't space. She tried again. The effort pushed her breasts out farther. But, with her knees up, there was no where for them to go. She tried again. To her horror, the strain forced open the top button of her shirt.
Belinda stopped struggling. The vile-tasting scarf pulled so painfully through her mouth was soaked with saliva. Her squashed chest was heaving upwards with exertion. Her short tight skirt was bunched around the tops of her thighs. She had to re-think this. If she turned on to her back, then she might have more success.
Belinda began to turn. The trouble was, her short tight skirt appeared to have no intention of turning with her. She heard a tearing sound. Now, not only was her blouse threatening to explode, but her skirt might go with it. Still, at least she had unwedged her legs. Biting into the gag, she pushed herself along the car floor. Success at last. As soon as her wrists came into contact with the metal, she began sawing.
It did her no good. Even before she had begun to fray the first strand holding her wrists, the car came to a halt and, seconds later, Belinda felt the dirty blanket lifted from her. The dark man, whom the baroness had called Ramon, stared down at her for a moment, his beady eyes fixed on her long pantyhose-clad legs. Reaching towards her, he yanked her unceremoniously to her feet. She winced as the muscles in her legs expanded and the rope bit into her nylon-covered ankles. She felt a waft of cold air on the tops of her breasts. She looked down to find that not one but two of her shirt buttons had come undone and the top of her white bra was now visible. Ramon had noticed too, and his eyes fixed on her thrust-out chest with undisguised lust. For a moment Belinda was convinced that he was about to tear the rest of the shirt open. But he merely chuckled and then picked her up again and hefted her over his shoulder.
Belinda found herself in an empty garage workshop. The smell of oil was all-pervasive. Greasy rags lay about on the floor. And, wonder upon wonders, Belinda saw the broken blade of a sharp knife lying next to one. Such was the benefit of being held upside down. Ramon carried Brenda straight across to a workbench from where he grabbed a coil of dirty rope. Then, he moved back to a wooden pillar and stood Belinda against it.
Belinda winced as stood upright and, in consequence, the tight ankle rope bit into her flesh. When Ramon was happy that Belinda was propped against the post, he wound the coil of rope around her just below the level of her breasts, lashing her effectively to the post, and trapping her arms between her body and the wood. He stared at her for a minute, apparently deep in thought, and Belinda was pleased that her skirt had fallen back over her thighs. Then, he appeared to come to a conclusion.
He stooped and his hands went towards Belinda's feet. At first, the reporter had it in mind to kick him in the face. But, all in all, with her feet joined, it hardly seemed a viable proposition. So, instead, she stood there meekly while Ramon plucked off her shoes.
"Don't go away," he quipped. And Belinda watched him carry her shoes over to a workbench. He tossed the shoes casually into a pile of odds and ends, and then rooted around for something. When he came back over to her, Belinda saw a small claw hammer and a couple of nails in his hands.
"Up you go," he said, as much to himself as to Belinda, and, moving behind her, he grasped the rope, which tied the young reporter to the post, and dragged it upwards.
The rope moved upwards, where it came into contact with the base of Belinda's breasts. Or to be more precise, it came into contact with the two strips of molding which constituted the base of Belinda's bra. Unfortunately for Belinda, Ramon continued pulling upwards, forcing her up on to tiptoe. She heard the thug banging the nails into the post so that they held the rope in place.
Ramon came back around the front of Belinda, and then stood back to admire his handiwork. Belinda slumped down. But even that was not enough to let her get her pantyhose-covered heels back on to the soiled floor of the garage workshop.
Ramon eyed his captive up and down. "Later," he said in his strong Spanish accent, "when the Señora has finished with you, you and I shall have some fun. "And, but the way," he added, "enjoy the comfort while it lasts. The Señora is an expert at tying up young women. Soon you will look back at those ropes and that gag you are wearing with fondness.'
Belinda shuddered. Already her hands were growing numb from the tight cords. And to be left to stand on tied ankles was even worse.
Ramon reached into his inside jacket pocket. As he did so, Belinda saw that he had a large revolver, cradled under his left arm in a highly polished leather holster. The Mexican fished inside his coat for a minute. Then he produced a packet of cigarettes. Seconds later he had lit one with a small gold cigarette lighter.
"You stay there while I go and collect your friend," he announced. "And this is just to remind you of what is to come. He reached up and undid yet another one of Belinda's shirt buttons, the one that held her blouse closed across her breasts. Then he gave an appreciative whistle and left.
As soon as he had gone, Belinda began to struggle furiously with the ropes, which tied her. There had to be a way to get free. There just had to be. But Belinda wasn't sure how. Some investigative reporter she was. She was supposed to be getting the story. And now here she was tied up and gagged, leaving Jana to fall into the hands of these monsters as well. She wondered what the baroness and her car-thieving cohorts had in mind for them. One thing was sure, she doubted if they could afford to let them go in a hurry.
With that thought in mind, Belinda began once again to pull at the rope around her wrists.
* * *
Jana Riley's red hair swirled behind her like a curtain of silk as she swerved into the main hall of the exposition and darted through the first door she came to. As she turned, the knee-length hemline of her jersey wool dress spun outwards, offering a not unappreciative set of spectators a quick view of her long pantyhose clad legs. For a large man, her pursuer had moved very fast, and, as soon as she was out of sight, Jana bent forward and struggled to get her breath back. When her chest had stopped heaving, she straightened and then went back out into the main hall. Nothing very much was likely to happen to her or her camera once she was surrounded by so many people.
She needn't have worried. The man was no longer anywhere to be seen. But the loud applause from the assembled company told her that Diamond Dayle had already made her entrance.
"Are you looking for your friend, Belinda, fraulein?" a voice said behind her suddenly.
Jana turned to see the tall blonde baroness standing behind her. That's strange, she thought idly, if the baroness is there, where could Belinda be?
"We have had such fun, fraulein, she and I, tracking down this mysterious ring of troublemakers, led by this Lupe Martinez," the baroness continued. "Your friend is so, how do you say it, tenacious. Even though she found nothing, she is off on some other adventure. She asks me to tell you to meet her out back. I think you get there by going through that door."
Jana watched as the baroness pointed towards the rear door of the Show Room. "Thank you, baroness," she said as cordially as she could manage in the circumstances, and made for the door. She's probably after some other hot story, she said to herself.
As the baroness watched her move, an almost imperceptible smirk of success turned up the right corner of her perfectly-formed mouth. Then suddenly the redhead turned back.
"You're not going to find your friend?" the baroness asked suddenly.
In truth, Jana had intended to do exactly as the baroness had suggested. But then she had had second thoughts. If Belinda wanted to swan around playing nosy reporter, she could do it on her own time. Right now, they had the next issue to think about. Trivial, the Car Show might be, but the readers liked trivia, and they had copy to prepare.
Jana smiled at the baroness. "In a while," she said. "I think Belinda's quite capable of looking after herself."
Once again, the baroness smirked.
* * *
"What on earth is that stupid woman doing?" Lupe Martinez asked contemptuously. "Why must she always play games? First, she has me get some stupid wig. Then she wants to lure that photographer in here. Why doesn't she just do what we would do at home and grab them?"
Beside her, her brother Ramon said nothing. Lupe's comments were rhetorical anyway. But even if they hadn't been, his mind was elsewhere, focusing on memories of the meddling reporter, and her chest as it heaved in its flimsy covering against the ropes which bound her to the pillar.
* * *
Jana Riley watched as the tall baroness moved away and then disappeared into the crowd. For a moment, Jana thought that she saw a moue of disappointment on the blonde woman's face. But, then she decided that it was a trick of the light. In any case, why would the baroness be so keen that she went to look for Belinda? Feeling slightly annoyed that Belinda was not there waiting for her, Jana lifted her camera and scanned the crowd through the viewfinder. Suddenly, in the distance she saw the security guard heading her way. And with him was a second man. If possible this one was even bigger than the first. "Shit," Jana muttered to herself, as the two men hove into view.
Jana was five foot ten, six foot in her current heels, and had red hair. Not really good qualifications for hiding in a crowd. But what choice had she? She stooped and then, twisting on her toes, attempted to conceal herself in the crowd. For a moment, it worked. But then the two security guards changed direction and came back towards her.
* * *
Belinda Carver, always fancying herself an intrepid and fearless investigative reporter, currently wished for a number of things. For a start, she wished that she had worn a knee-length skirt that morning, rather than her current mini. What was more, she wished that her chest were not forced out quite so much against her flimsy shirt material. But most of all she wished that the thin tight cord which bound her wrists so tightly would fray.
She had been rubbing her wrists against the smooth wooden post now for nearly an hour. Once in that time, she had thought that she felt a strand of rope begin to part. But, she was wrong. So she went on rubbing. And all the time Lupe Martinez' words were in her mind. You a good lookin' bitch, too. Sure like to get a look at what you got under that blouse. Then, there was another problem. The way that she was tied meant that only her toes were on the ground. Belinda had once been to a ballet lesson when she was twelve. All she had learned was how excruciating it was to stand for any length of time on tiptoe. But now she was being asked to do exactly that. Already her feet were beginning to feel the strain and the muscles in her calves were on fire. If she didn't get free soon, her current position would soon turn to torture. And she didn't fancy letting the rope beneath her breasts take her weight.
* * *
Miraculously, Jana made it across the Car Room floor to the doors at the back of the hall. What alternative did she have? She would have to find Belinda and then they could get out of the place. She may not have taken many photographs, but the look on Diamond Dayle's face in some of the ones she had would be worth a hundred publicity stills. She looked over her shoulder to check that she was not being followed and then, opening the door at the rear of the Show Room, slipped through and shut it behind her.
"Grab her," a female voice said, in a Spanish accent.
Startled, Jana opened her mouth to scream, but a large hand immediately clamped across it. A second hand found its way across her body, holding her tight and trapping her arms.
"Now, Miss Riley," the woman crooned. "I do hope you're not going to give us any trouble while we tie you up. If you do we will have to tie you tighter than necessary, I'm afraid."
The woman smiled, apparently pleased at the prospect. Then her hand shot out to the front of Jana's dress. She stuck out a single finger and let that rest on the neckline of Jana's woolen dress. Then, she moved the finger downwards, letting it slide over the silky material until it came to rest between Jana's breasts. It toyed there for a moment before hooking itself around the front of Jana's bra, which it gripped through the black wool material. "And, of course, Señorita," the woman continued, "if we have to fight to bind you, you will probably lose your dress and bra in the process."
Jana looked down at her heaving breasts, pushed upwards by the large male arm beneath them. The hand across her mouth was beginning to hurt.
"Now open wide," the woman said.
A flash of horror flew through Jana's mind as she realized that they were going to gag her. As soon as she looked back up at the dark-haired woman, the horror doubled.
The woman was holding a small rubber ball in between her finger and thumb. Well, what Jana mentally described as small was only small when compared with a basketball. When compared with Jana's mouth, it was decidedly large.
Lupe Martinez reached out, and with the finger and thumb of her other hand, pinched Jana's nose. She held it just long enough to force Jana to fight for breath and then Ramon let go of her mouth.
Jana had intended to scream as soon as the crushing hand went from her lips. But, now, all she could do was take a desperate gulp of breath. As she opened her mouth to do so, Lupe Martinez pushed the rubber ball in.
Well not exactly in. The ball wedged between Jana's teeth even before it had reached its diameter.
"Not wide enough, I'm afraid, Señorita," Lupe said, sarcastically. She put two fingers on the ball and pushed... hard. It took nearly a minute before the ball nestled behind Jana's perfect teeth.
"There, that was not so hard, was it," Lupe said smiling. Jana did not share the joke. She was too busy fighting her gag reflex and the desperate feeling that she had to retch. She watched anxiously as Lupe tore a piece of gray duct tape from a roll and pressed it over her mouth, pushing her lips together as she did so. "Okay, Ramon," Lupe said when she had finished smoothing the tape down. "Let's get this one trussed up, ready to go."
Seconds later, Jana found herself face down on the ground, with the breath knocked out of her. With her mouth tightly gagged, she had to fight for air through her nose and while she did so, she felt Ramon cross her wrists and bind them with thin painful cord, which he wrapped around both ways. By the time she thought to kick out, with what could be no more than a protest kick, Ramon had grasped her shapely legs and begun to bind her ankles.
As soon as he had finished binding Jana's ankles, Ramon pulled her back to her feet.
"There," Lupe crooned. "That is much better. So much quieter. I think she will make such a good toy. Don't you think, Ramon?"
Jana cringed at the lascivious look on the dark woman's face, as she reached out and grabbed Jana's left breast. "Nice boobs, eh, Ramon? Not as big as her friend Belinda, but good nevertheless. Of course, these days, they make bras so well, you can never be quite sure. If I had the time I'd look now and see for myself." She chuckled. "Still there's plenty of time for that."
She laughed at the pained look on Jana's face and at the red blush that begun to appear above the scoop neckline of her black dress.
"Can't you wait, fraulein?" a voice said.
Jana looked up hopefully as the door opened. But as soon as she had taken in the meaning of the words, her hopes dashed. She watched helplessly as the baroness slipped the lock on the door.
"Ah, Fraulein Riley," she said, smoothly. "I'm so pleased you could join us after all." She inspected the bindings carefully. "Very efficient, Lupe," she said to the Mexican. "But, you know, I think Fraulein Riley will be able to rub that tape off her mouth and remove her gag. And I think we will need a blindfold as well. I'll just fix that."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny clasp knife. Opening it carefully, she leaned forward, and taking hold of the hem of Jana's dress, inserted the blade about twelve inches above the hemline. Seconds later, to Jana's embarrassment, she had cut away the bottom foot of the Jana's dress, leaving the poor photographer in a micro-mini. Then she divided the black material into two long strips. One of these she tied tightly across Jana's taped mouth. The other she tied across her eyes.
"There, Fraulein Riley," she said. "Now we are ready to go. I do hope you and Fraulein Carver are good friends because you are going to become very intimate indeed."
Jana felt herself lifted up and hefted over Ramon's shoulder. It had to be Ramon. No doubt the baroness was strong. But she could never have lifted Jana that easily. Jana felt the tattered hem of her dress ride up to the very tops of the backs of her legs and a hand on her pantyhose-clad thighs; the hand appeared to be enjoying itself.
"Diamond Dayle is due to leave in about an hour," she heard the baroness say. "That gives you time to take this one back to the garage and stow her with her friend."
"Sî, baroness," she heard Lupe Martinez reply. "But I can manage her myself. So I will leave Ramon here with you... Just in case."
* * *
Nearly there. Belinda rubbed desperately at the cord around her wrists as the first spasm of pain shot through the muscles in her calves and feet.
"Mmnnnnnggggnn, mmmmmmmmnnng" she groaned into her gag, as a second wave of pain hit her. Somehow, she had to get free-- and fast.
* * *
Jana lay crushed on the floor of a large automobile, covered in a large dirty blanket, just as Belinda had been earlier. She too was working on the cord around her wrists.
* * *
At last. At last some of the cord frayed. Now a loose end dangled down behind her, Belinda tugged at her hands in anticipation, expecting them to pull free. But nothing happened. Damn. The rope had obviously been tied more complexly than she thought. It had already taken her an hour, and now Belinda would have to continue rubbing at the cord which tied her so tightly, if only the growing pain from her calves and feet would let her. Even then, if she succeeded, she would still have to get the ropes from around her body. Somehow, she would have to try and reach the knots; she doubted if she could pull the ropes up over her breasts.
So Belinda continued to saw at the ropes. But her renewed activity was halted suddenly by the sound of a car outside. She felt a sinking, bitter feeling in the pit of her stomach. You a good lookin' bitch, too. Sure like to get a look at what you got under that blouse. The memory of those words made her feel even worse. Biting the scarf that gagged her, Belinda stayed still, her weight on her screaming leg muscles. To her horror, Lupe Martinez came into the room.
But she was not alone. Even with her eyes and mouth covered, the woman with her was undeniably Jana. But what had they done to the poor photographer? The bottom of her dress had been torn off, so that it came down little lower than crotch level. Her hands were behind her and from the look of the strain on her shoulders, they were tied tightly. Her legs were free. But tears in the ankles of her pantyhose showed that they had recently been tied. Worse of all, her cheeks bulged horribly beneath the gagging scarf.
"Ah, Señorita Carver, how have we been?" Lupe Ramirez asked rhetorically.
Fine, thank you, Belinda thought. "Ien ank u, eery uch," she heard herself reply through the gagging scarf.
At once, Belinda knew she had made a mistake.
"So your gag is not quite effective," Lupe barked. "But, of course, I remember. I just used my scarf. I had no time for packing. How remiss of me."
She led Jana over to a chair and sat her down sharply. Then she pulled off the blindfold and used the piece of cloth to tie Jana's ankles. "There," she said. "That should keep you still while I see to Señorita Carver's gag."
Lupe went across to the workbench and then returned with a piece of grubby looking rag. Fishing behind the reporter's head, she unknotted the scarf and pulled the sodden cloth from Belinda's mouth. "Open wide, Señorita Carver," she demanded.
"You're not going to put that dirty piece of rag in my mouth," Belinda spluttered. "You can't."
A sadistic grin stretched across Lupe's face. Belinda felt a hand on her leg, just below her hemline. The hand went upwards, underneath her skirt. It slid along the nylon fabric covering her thigh. Then it stopped abruptly. "If you like, I can use your panties instead," Lupe hissed into her ear. "Although with a mouth as big as yours I will probably have to use not only your panties but those of your friend as well. Now what is it going to be? Are you going to open your mouth? Or am I going to strip you both naked?"
Belinda grimaced. Then she reluctantly parted her lips and teeth. Lupe Martinez laughed, and then carefully crammed the rag into Belinda's mouth, making sure she wedged the whole thing behind her teeth. When the last piece of cloth had disappeared, Lupe used the scarf to tie it in place, tightly cleaving the reporter's mouth.
Lupe laughed as she yanked the knot in the scarf that bit extra tight as she fastened it. Belinda then watched the Mexican as she went across to the workbench and gathered several pieces of rope. It took her only a few seconds to untie Jana's ankles and drag her to her feet. Tugging dramatically at the photographer's abbreviated hemline, she held out the piece of torn cloth against Jana's exposed thighs with a flourish. "Perhaps you can sew it back on," she said, chortling. A crude smile spread over her face and she threw the cloth on to the dirt floor.
Five minutes later, Jana was tied to the pillar next to Belinda's. Lupe began by lashing her to the pillar with rope around her torso, and above and below her breasts. She wound more rope went around the redheaded photographer's waist, before stopping to tie her ankles and thighs together. Then, she finished the job by weaving rope around her legs and the post.
"Don't go away, Señoritas," Lupe Martinez joked as she admired her handiwork. "I have great plans for both of you. I think that you are both really going to enjoy your sleeping arrangements."
And with that she left.