Tai Anne Roper

by Nicole Sutter

Kunta Kintare had brought her down to this dungeon still slung over her strong shoulders. Deeper and deeper into the bedrock underneath the Brickyard, until the smooth concrete and flourescent lights gave way to stone slabs and flickering torches.

They entered a large stonework antechamber. Tai looked around as Kunta locked the massive wooden door. The place was heavy with ancient forms of torture. Pillories, stocks, an iron maiden or two, rusty iron cages and even a stretching rack.

Kunta set her down and ripped off Tai's red latex like she was peeling a banana, until she was both naked and unbound. She allowed Tai to rid herself of the bothersome Mr. Wigglesworth, but not the ballgag.

She gave Tai a burlap pototo sack that was open at one end and had places cut for her arms and neck to go. It fit like a very short and very scratchy minidress, barely covering the chubbed cheeks of her bottom. It was also tight and uncomfortable. Tai had the feeling that burlap and bare nipples were never supposed to meet.

Even tho her hands and legs were free, Tai had no illusions of freedom. Kunta was too strong and too determined to let her get away from her.

Still, Tai moaned into her gag when the heavy shackles and irons were dragged out. Kunta took off her jacket, revealing her tight sweater, her shoulder holstered pistol and her shiny, tan leather pants. She loomed over Tai like an unstoppable force of nature, daring her to make a move on her.

Tai closed her eyes and accepted the chains. She no choice. Not this time.

Kunta gently loaded Tai's body down with heavy iron. Leg and wrist shackles that were a good inch thick and slightly rusty, secured with locks that looked like they were made back in the Gold Rush. The chains connecting them were so heavy, they could barely be shifted about.

Kunta added an iron collar that was heavy on her shoulders. And a thick iron bar that went behind her back, held in the crook of her elbows as her hands were shackled in front of her.

Kunta opened a cell door and helped Tai into a small room of stone with no windows. She sat Tai down into a corner and wedged the iron bar she held behind her back into two iron U-joints which were then padlocked and secured.

Another ancient padlock secured her leg shackles to the floor.

Kunta smiled and sat on Tai's lap, straddling her hips. She removed the ballgag and kissed her deeply. Tai cried as she sucked on Kunta's tongue.

"This is punishment, little one," Kunta whispered to her. "Here you are meant to suffer and cry and wonder of your fate." Kunta smiled. "But do not worry too much, you are far too precious to far too many people to remain down here for very long."

She kissed her again, then got up and left the room, taking the flickering torch with her. She locked the heavy door, Tai hearing at least four sets of locks and bolts being thrown.

Then the door to the anteroom was locked. And Tai Anne Roper felt the full weight of her imprisonment weigh down on her like a force as heavy as her chains.

She wept in the darkness, a chained, imprisoned girl.

***

Paige Torne studied her face in the mirror.

She now possessed what could charitably be called, 'one helluva shiner'. A black eye. A blue and black eye if you wanted to get technical about it. It was also puffy and red and hurt like hell.

She placed a piece of raw steak over it and winced. Keeping the cold meat over it, she walked out of her quarters and thru the hallways to the breakroom where the others were being treated by Sifu Chun.

Chun was the stereotypical wizened, wise old fart. He was also a licensed MD, and saw to the various injuries that occurred in the day to day operations of the Brickyard. Today he was earning his pay.

Paige watched him set another knee in a soft cast. He was halfway through a line of twelve of her people that had been triaged from worst to least injured.

"You should hire better bouncers," Chun said to her. "Or hire me some nurses!"

"Thanks for the advice, Sifu," Paige said dryly. Or maybe she should just fire all these clowns and hire Iwana Binder.

She noticed Crowe T. Grackel who had already been treated. "What the hell happened to you? Did you try to take on Hurricane Iwana too?"

"I tried to stop that fuckin', nuthin' cunt Tai Anne Roper!" Grackel growled back. He was a sight, with an icepack jammed in his crotch and a black and blue face livid with deep cuts where his eyeglasses had been smashed into his face. "I hear Kunta finally nailed her ass."

Paige nodded. "I have her in the dungeon."

"I want her."

"Sorry, I already promised Taffy."

"Then give me ten minutes alone with her," Grackel hissed. "Dammit, Paige, that's all I fuckin' want! I deserve that much!"

Paige frowned. "I think you're losing your perspective, Crowe. Besides I already have suitable punishment arraigned."

"Fine, I'll wait til the next photo shoot."

"There isn't going to be another photo shoot, Crowe," Paige looked at him. "At least not one involving you. I don't want you within fifty feet of Roper. Got it?"

Grackel looked at her incrediously. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? I am a senior member of your crew! I am an important man in the day to day running of your operations! I deserve my revenge!"

"Take it down a notch, Crowe."

"Bullshit!" Crowe shouted, loud enough for everybody in the room to look at him. "That piece of... nothing, dissed me! I want her to fuckin' suffer for that."

"Tai Anne Roper is just a girl doing her job," Paige replied. "This isn't about you being dissed. Now try to get that through your head."

Paige turned away from him and strode off before he could reply. She found Taffy Chu sipping coffee in the corner.

"Where's Jessica?"

"Tucked away safe and bound," Taffy replied. "She wants to talk with you. I think she wants to see Tai. So do I by the way."

Paige nodded. "Tai belongs to you. I... lost my prespective with her. Got to the point where I wanted to keep her. Make her mine."

"I know that feeling," Taffy said. She reached up and gently removed the piece of steak Paige was holding over her eye. "Ouch! That hurts to look at."

Paige grinned ruefully. "When you get ahold of the lil' minx, watch her feet."

"Ha! I will," Taffy said. "Actually I was gonna let her stew in the dungeon for awhile. Thought I'd go and check out my store and grab a few things. I already talked to Kenny, he says it was a slow day today. Nobody came by asking any questions."

"Just the same, take this." Paige handed her a digital photo taken off the surveillance cams. "That's Tai's friend, Iwana Binder of the LAPD. If you spot her, run like hell."

"The whole reason you captured Tai was because you didn't want a loose cannon rolling about the deck," Taffy said. "It would seem this Iwana babe is loose artillery personified. Don't you want her?"

"If I could hire Jet Li and King Kong to take her down, I would. Now I just wanna leave bad enough alone," Paige said. "Also, take Kunta with you. Just in case."

"Yes, Ma'am." Taffy grinned and gently kissed Paige's knuckle.

***

A little after 6pm, Iwana Binder found a parking space on Union Street on Russian Hill. It was quiet. A few couples walking the sidewalks and a few neighborhood eateries open for the dinner hour.

Iwana walked to Leavenworth. She looked around. Her sistahgrrl had gotten into a fight here less that 24 hours ago. That was enough to stir her blood. She considered what else she knew.

Tai was a prisoner of The Brickyard. She knew precious little else. Right now she had to trust the word of a stranger, this Jeb Stuart, who was supposedly a friend of Tai's.

All she really wanted to do was take a flamethrower to The Brickyard. Clean house and find her sistahgrrl. But somehow she knew --she trusted-- this Jeb guy to be on the up and up.

Iwana turned in a circle, looking for a clue. That's when she spotted a lighted sign down the street. FASHION X-TREMEZ - LEATHER LATEX BONDAGE FETISH. She remembered that cop Sweet telling her about the glossy black latex dress she had seen Tai in at The Brickyard.

"Gotcha," she whispered.

Fashion X-tremez was a two story Victorian clapboard house converted into a business. It was also open til 8pm on Sundays.

Iwana went through the front door to the tune of a tinkling bell. The clerk was busy trying to sell a leather hood to a young couple, so Iwana wandered the store, impressed with the wide selection of goods.

"Can I help you?" The young clerk had finally tracked her down.

"Just lookin'."

"Aren't we all?" He smirked. "My name is Kenny, and if I can be of any assistance, just let me know."

"Maybe you can help me," Iwana said. "Ah was here a few days ago and talked with a young Asian girl, kinda short but a real hottie. Can't quite remember her name..."

"That'd be Taffy Chu!" he said brightly. "She owns this place. I frankly don't know when she'll be in. Maybe tomorrow some time. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Like Ah said, just lookin'." Iwana smiled and pretended interest in a selection of floggers. She hung around for a few more minutes before going back out to the street.

Down the block a ways was a crowded little coffeeshop that had also once been a Victorian style residence. Iwana went over to it and slipped the waiter a five spot to get a table by a window. She ordered a sandwich and a coffee.

She would wait here and keep an eye on things. For awhile anyway.

***

Picking up somebody at a major airport had never been on Jeb Stuart's 'Top Ten Ways to Kill a Sunday Afternoon', especially now in post 9/11 America when it was a major league pain in the ass.

Cops and National Guardsman roamed the Main Terminal building, and of course Drew's flight from Miami was late. Jeb decided to make the best of a bad situation and went to Cinnabons for a gooey cinnammin roll and a large coffee.

He was still licking his fingers when American Airlines Flight 177 --non-stop Miami to SF-- arrived at Gate 43.

And there she was. A tall, good looking woman of 36. Brown hair in a short bob cut and deep brown eyes. She wore a trenchcoat over a turtleneck pullover and grey slacks and Nike sneakers. She had her two pieces of carry-on luggage with her. An old Brit army 'kit bag' over one shoulder and one of those little suitcases on wheels that followed her around like an obedient pet.

Drew Thrasher. Senior International Correspondent for the BBC.

Drew spotted Jeb and grinned. She ran over to him and gave him a quick hug. "Jeb!"

"Good to see you too," Jeb returned the hug and took the kit bag off her shoulder, slinging it onto his. "Damn! Got your brick collection with you, I see."

"Sorry," Drew answered. "But I simply refuse to wait for my luggage to be vomited up at another airport carrousel. So I travel light. A practise that came in handy at Kabul International last month..."

"I can imagine." Together they walked down the concourse. "How was Afganistan?"

Drew shook her head. "Cold. Inhospitable. Rocks and filth and death galore. Why anybody would want to fight over that God forsaken piece of real estate is beyond me."

Jeb nodded. He remembered it well.

"So what's the latest on McClintock?" Drew asked.

"He's hiding out on his yacht, anchored out in the north bay near Angel Island. I can't get a wire in... yet."

"And 'Jessica the Rabbit'?"

"Looks more and more like she disappeared herself. But she had help doing it. I think she was running from Daddy. But your buddy Weskler is hot on her trail now." Jeb sighed.
"My friend Tai Anne Roper was on to something when she came across this 'Brickyard' down in the SoMa..."

"The where?"

"Excuse me. Its in The City, South of Market Street. Like I told you, its a huge BDSM fetish club. But for some reason I can't find out who owns it, or who's even connected to it."

"Is Ms. Roper still missing?"

"Yes," Jeb growled. "But I just met up with a friend of hers from LA. A ladycop named Iwana Binder. She might be what we need to 'stir the soup' over there. We're supposed to meet her back in The City in a couple of hours."

"I have a few leads I want to check out as well," Drew said. "It's a shame this Roper girl disappeared on you. I was looking forward to talking with her."

"Maybe you still can."

The came out of the Terminal to find Jeb's gray Nissan Pathfinder parked right at the curb where he had left it. Two soldiers were guarding it with M-16s at the ready.

"Thank you, Sergeant," Jeb said. The two soldiers saluted and went back to their duties. Jeb opened the rear door and tucked away Drew's luggage. Walking to the passenger side, Drew noticed an offical looking sign on the dash: U.S. SECRET SERVICE - FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY.

"Got that promotion, eh?" Drew said with a smile.

"Stick it in the glovebox with the others, willya?" Jeb asked as he started up the SUV. Drew opened the glovebox and flipped thru a dozen other little signs, everything from SFPD to a Nat'l Center for Disease Control-HAZMAT Unit.

"I bet this saves on parking tickets," Drew commented.

"Never leave home without 'em!"

***

Jeb drove north on the 101. Traffic was snarled all to hell, but it would be even if it wasn't the rush hour. The 101 was down to six lanes because of the BART extension being built to connect SFIA to The City.

Drew flipped thru his CD collection which seemed to run from Palestrina to The Pogues. She finally chose Joe Ely's new CD. As the bittersweet Tex-Mex melody filled the interior of the SUV, Drew leaned back.

"I hope this guestroom you were telling me about has a soft bed," Drew said. "I'm about to drop dead!"

A split second later the sideglass next to Drew's face spiderwebbed as over a dozen rounds of silencered automatic weapons fire exploded into it. If not for the bullet resistant Lexan, her head would've been decorating the interior of the vehicle. She yelped and ducked down none the less.

Jeb swerved to the far lane as more bullets hammered into the side of the Pathfinder, being stopped by the Kevlar side panels. A glance to the right saw a black Chevy Suburban with a young punk driving and another one hunkered down in the rear seat. There was no muzzleflash or sound of gunshots as he opened up on them again, peppering the side of the SUV.

Jeb slammed on the brakes and then accelerated as he swerved hard right across two lanes. Suddenly the Suburban was in front of them. Jeb dropped back some more and got an 18-wheeler semi-rig hauling steel pipe between him and the shooters.

Then more bullets hit Jeb's Pathfinder, sounding like they had driven into a sudden hailstorm. A Lexus sedan behind them, another punk firing a silencered machinepistol at them. The back glass spiderwebbed. Drew heard bullets thumping into the rims.

"They're going for the tires," She said with rising concern.

"Don't worry," Jeb replied. "They're solid rubber with steel frames."

"Do I look worried?" Drew replied as more sideglass popped and cracked, but refused to break. "Good thing this vehicle is bulletproof."

"Bullet-resistant," Jeb corrected.

"What's the difference?"

"I hope we don't find out," Jeb replied. He cut back across two lanes and ducked into the median strip. Traffic was still snarled but the median was clear.

Jeb punched it and keyed the thumbprint lock on the glovebox between the two bucket seats. He opened it up and removed a silencered .45 Hk-23 SOCOM pistol. The loaded 18-wheeler was traveling next to them, and the Suburban was in the next lane over.

Jeb keyed a button that trolleyed down what was left of the passenger-side door glass just as the Pathfinder cleared the 18-wheeler. The punks in the Suburban still hadn't spotted him as he activated the laser sight and put a two round 'double-tap' into the punk in the back seat.

The punk convulsed, the machine pistol going off in his hands, ripping thru the front seats and killing the driver. The Suburban swerved right across two lanes of horn-blaring traffic before impacting some parked construction equiptment and exploding in a huge fireball.

More bullets slapped into the rear of the Pathfinder. Jeb was going 90 plus in the median and the Lexus was right behind him.

There were also a Nissan econobox parked in the same median lane they were traveling. Directly ahead, about 300 yards. The emergency flashers blinking.

"Fuck me," Jeb said.

"Gimme," Drew said. Jeb handed off the pistol to her. He keyed the button to trolley down the back glass and ducked as bullets hummed past his head, slapping into the windshield and dashboard.

Drew aimed and fired three rounds where she supposed the driver's head would be. Jeb swerved back into the flow of traffic as the Lexus piled into the parked Nissan, ripping through it before flipping end-over-end and ending up scattered all over the median strip itself.

"Whew!" Drew turned around in her seat, the cool evening air feeling good on her face. There were no sign of police, in fact traffic was now moving pretty good. No one seemed to have noticed the running firefight had even occurred.

Jeb was already on his cellphone.

"Hello, honey?" He said. "Ran into a little trouble coming back from the airport. Looks like I won't make dinner." He paused. "No, you and the kids go ahead and eat without me. I should be along in a few hours." Another pause. "I love you too. G'bye."

He clicked off. He had just told his wife to collect the kids and get out of town to their safehouse in the Sierra Nevadas. He quick called another number.

"Dino? Hey, Jeb here. Oh, fine. Lissen, I need a favor. I picked up a big crack in my windshield. Also might need some bodywork." He laughed. "Yeah, Sunday drivers. Look, is it okay if I drop the chariot off at your place and pick up a loaner?" He grinned. "Hey thanks, I owe ya."

He clicked off again. Okay, problem solved. Dino had a garage in China Basin not far from Pac Bell Park. They could switch out vehicles there, hopefully before the CHP took an interest in an SUV that looked like it had been driven by Bonnie and Clyde.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Drew shouted. She had been rifling around in the back seat.

"What is it?" Jeb asked.

"My kit bag is all shot to hell 'n back!" Drew raged. "Lookit this! I carried this with me for six months in Afganistan without a scratch, and now..."

Jeb flicked on the blinker as he changed lanes to get around a slowpoke. "Welcome to San Francisco, Ms. Thrasher!"

***

"This is it." Taffy Chu said as the black Ford Expedition stopped on Leavenworth in front of Fashion X-tremez. She opened the door to get out, but Kunta Kintare stopped her.

"Wait up, I will find a parking place and we'll walk together."

Taffy rolled her eyes. "Com'n! I just talked with Kenny and it's all clear. Besides, you'll be lucky to find a parking spot in three blocks!"

Taffy hopped to the pavement and slammed the door behind her. Kunta took off and Taffy hurried up the steps of her business.

"Well there she is!" Kenny said by way of a greeting as the door ding-a-linged. "I told you I had a hot date tonight and had to leave early!"

Taffy pulled off her PVC coat and looked at her watch. "So? Its only seven for chrissakes! Who is it tonight anyway, that fireman you're so hot for?"

"Ah huh," Kenny grinned as he shrugged on his leather jacket. "He said he'd show me a new technique for CPR..."

"Well, don't forget your raincoat," Taffy said, tossing a handful of rubbers at him. He laughed and blew her a kiss as he went out the door.

Taffy was still totaling up the day's receipts when the front door dinged again.

"Can I... help you?" Taffy asked, trying to pull off a smile as Iwana Binder came through the door.

"Oh yeah," Iwana grinned. "You gonna help me, chinadoll." She locked the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed'. "Mah name is Iwana Binder, but Ah can tell from the look on yore face that you awready know that."

"No, I..."

"But yore gonna help me, by telling me everything you know about Tai Anne Roper."

"Who?"

"Oh, lemme refresh yore memory." Iwana reached over the counter and bodily picked up Taffy by the neck. She dragged her squirming and kicking into the next room to a rack of clothes that Iwana had looked over during her first go-round.

Iwana squeezed Taffy in a tight hug from behind as she took a dress off the rack.

"Now, see this lil' black dress here?" Iwana said. "Last night that dress was on the fine bod of mah sistahgrrl, Tai Anne Roper. Now it's hangin' up in yore lil store!" She slipped a muscled forearm around Taffy's neck and flexed.

"Ah know a lot about what happened," Iwana whispered in Taffy's ear. "Ah know Tai was here last night 'round eleven or so. Ah know she changed clothes here. Ah know you put her in a bodacious rubber dress and took her to The Brickyard on Folsom..."

Taffy tried to struggle but a simple increase of pressure by Iwana made her feel faint.

"So talk to me, chinadoll," Iwana said. "Start with Jessica McClintock and just let it flow."

Taffy sighed. "I can't help you. I don't know what you're going on about!"

"You gonna play tuff, chinadoll?" Iwana looked down at her. "Or is something else?"

"Please! Lemme go!" Taffy's eyes were wide and scared.

"Are you stalling? Waiting for whoever dropped you off in that big ass SUV to come through that door? Is that it?" Iwana hissed in Taffy's ear.

Taffy's eyes grew even wider when she saw the steel handcuffs appear in Iwana's hand.

***

A few minutes later, Kunta Kintare walked up the steps of Fashion X-tremez, frowning at the 'closed' sign. She tried the door. Locked.

Using her lockpick, she had it open in a New York second. She closed the door behind her, drawing her Desert Eagle .50 Magnum and sweeping the room with it.

"Taff?" she called out. She heard a humming sound from the room to the right. Keeping her back to the wall and her pistol aimed, she slipped past the beaded curtains.

There was Taffy. Hands cuffed high behind her and attached to a chain connected to a heavy wooden bondage frame. A spreader bar was locked to her ankles and a ballgag filled her mouth. She was looking wide-eyed at Kunta, shaking her head at her as she hummed nonsense and drooled. Kunta thought she looked pretty hot in her shiny black latex pants and top.

Kunta looked around the room. Except for a couple of female manniquins in leatherwear and hoods lurking in the corners, the place was empty.

Leaving Taffy secure, she swept the other rooms, finding the back door in the kitchen wide open. She locked it and hurried back to the bound Taffy.

Kunta holstered her piece and unbuckled the strap to the ballgag. "Okay, Taff," she said. "Who did this to you and where did they run off to?"

Before Taffy could answer, Kunta felt something cold and hard press into her left ear. She winced and slowly turned. Sure enough, one of the hooded and leathered manniquins was pointing a very large revolver at her head.

The rest was academic. While Taffy continued to pull at her cuffs and hum into her re-buckled ballgag, Kunta placed her hands on her dreadlocked head and allowed for the hooded woman to frisk her and relieve her of her pistol and any other goodies.

Kunta gritted her teeth as her navy coat was yanked off and her hands were cuffed behind her with heavy black leather and then drawn up by a chain to the same bondage frame, so that her booted feet barely touched the floor.

She hung there next to Taffy. She looked at the woman as she removed her hood, revealing her classic ebony features. Iwana Binder.

"Now," Iwana said. "Between the two of you gals, Ah oughta be able to find out ev'rythang Ah evah wanted to know about Tai Anne Roper. Question is, we doin' this the easy way, or the hard way?"

"I have nothing to say," Kunta hissed. "Fuck off."

That bought Kunta a huge rubber ballgag and harness that was strapped deep into her mouth.

Iwana Binder laughed as she moved along the long racks of various torture devices. She picked out a massive leather paddle and flexed it in her hands.

"Tell ya what, seein' how it's almost suppertime, who don't Ah fix you two gals up with mah specialty... Two big helpin's of hot, crossed buns!"

Main Menu

Back to Friends Page

Back to Stories Page