Sooz Kink-My Bondage Adventures
The 13th Hostage
By Peter Walsh
Part Two
‘Little Chelsea’ consisted of small, exclusive stores, overpriced eateries and tiny art galleries with viewings by appointment only. I had an appointment for one gallery in particular. Traffic and parking was a nightmare in the city that I suffered on a daily basis, I had endured enough nightmares lately so I opted for bus and pavement. My shaded eyes scanned the neatly ordered streets and avenues for ‘The Westdene Gallery’. I moved like I had a definite purpose for the simple reason that I had one. My boot heels smacking across the pavement as I walked at a brisk pace. On this fine morning events had taken a personal turn for the worst.
* * * * * *
I had regained consciousness at home. Sunlight streamed in through the gap in the curtains hurting my eyes. Resting on one elbow I had blinked about me. I was lying on my bed in three-day-old clothes. I knew I had to get up. There was pain behind my eyes and my mouth was cotton dry. I had wished that people would stop chloroforming me. I had swung my legs off the bed and put my weight on them. I was far from steady as I had half staggered to the vanity mirror. I had groaned at my reflection. Tangled hair, red-rimmed eyes and the pallor of a frozen chicken. I had shed my outfit and dumped it en-masse in the laundry basket and stumbled to the bathroom. A shower, some aspirin and two very strong black coffees had given me a much need boost. Then I had heard an unfamiliar ring tone of a cell phone coming from the bedroom. I had rushed to the source of the sound. I had then seen the little phone on the bed on which I had been lying. I had picked it up.
‘Yes?’
‘So you have rejoined the land of the free and living? Good!’ It had been the voice of the woman who had held me prisoner. A chill of fear had run through my whole being. ‘Now straight to business, you are to take this phone to The Westdene Gallery in Little Chelsea and present it to a lady called Marion Brooke, you have an appointment for eleven-thirty, that gives you two hours. Now are these instructions clear?’
‘Yes’. I had issued a straight reply to a straight question.
‘As you know I hold twelve hostages, none of whom mean anything to you, so to ensure your continued co-operation I have brought the number of hostages back up to thirteen’.
Bad news was about to further cloud my horizon. I had steeled myself for what was coming next.
‘Gita Wells, a lovely young woman, charming, successful and very like you to behold. She currently has taken your place amongst my hostages. Gita is sitting in your chair; bound with your ropes but in the interests of hygiene is wearing a different gag. I’ll just show you a picture’.
The tiny screen of the phone display had suddenly been filled with an image of my best friend Gita Wells. It had been a head and shoulder shot. Gita’s hair was awry; her brown eyes were terrified over the crossed strips of duct tape, which gagged her. The image had then vanished.
‘I kidnapped Gita on my return journey from depositing you safely at home. Needless to say, one wrong move from you and she dies’.
‘Gita has nothing to do with this, I have nothing to do with this, let her go, leave us alone!’
‘You are both useful tools, now just do as you are told!’
What can I say? She was calling the shots.
‘I will’. My voice had been just a notch above a whisper.
‘I shall be watching you Sooz Kink’. That had been the end of the conversation.
On legs that shook, I had wobbled to my lounge and found my phone. With trembling fingers I had dialled the law firm Gita worked for. I had been told that she was not yet in the office. It was all the confirmation I needed, Gita had indeed been kidnapped.
I had almost immediately gone to the back of my bedroom closet and located the small locked box hidden there. Inside that box was something that I kept for only the gravest emergencies. It contained a dainty but dangerous little .32 Beretta Tomcat. My fingers had fumbled with the combination of the lock. The box had opened and I had looked at a vacant space. The gun had vanished.
I was one frightened girl and yet another comfort factor had vanished. Gita was in danger. I had sat down on the bed and allowed myself some much-needed tears. After about five minutes I had composed myself, I had a strange assignment and a friend to save. I had to get ready.
I had painted up my face to disguise the recent traumas and tied back my long hair. I had decided against any black attire that day and that included underwear and pantyhose. I opted for a smart beige suit with a knee length skirt, a white top and some light brown knee-high boots. The boots were a favourite; the three-inch heels took me up to a height of nearly six feet. I had checked myself over in the full-length hall mirror and decided that I looked quite good after all. I had taken a deep breath, ‘C’mon Sooz’. I had then departed for the dangers ahead.
* * * * * *
The Westdene Gallery resided between an Indonesian restaurant and a store selling West African artefacts. The gallery looked exclusive. I moved closer and looked over a couple of paintings on display in the window. What can I say? I had a simplistic taste in art. I liked pictures of sunrises or sunsets, vases of flowers or bowls of fruit. What was on display in the window probably had some artistic merit but it was lost on me. It all looked like the work of a hyperactive kindergarten class.
I then stepped back and looked the gallery over. I wanted a good look at where I might end up a prisoner. Call me paranoid but something told me I would probably not be safe at home that evening. The gallery probably had some discreet corner to stash me in. Still I lived in hope that the inevitable might not happen. I took a deep breath and walked towards the entrance.
The inside of the gallery was well lit and pristine. I was in a world of pictures, which gave off a riot of colour. A pretty Asian girl with a spiky hairstyle, wearing a chic navy suit sat behind a desk. She looked up and smiled at me with practiced perfection.
‘May I help you?’
I took off my shades. ‘Sooz Kink for Marion Brooke’.
The girl cast her eyes down to an appointment book on the desk and nodded. ‘One moment, please’. She rose from behind her desk and vanished into a small forest of frames mounted on easels to her rear.
I stood and waited, tapping the toe of one of my boots on the floor. I made an effort to seem curious about the wall-to-wall art about me but it was a poor performance. I had other things on my mind, a captive friend and my own safety.
The Asian girl returned with a tall, slender and very striking looking woman dressed in a white linen trouser suit with matching shoes, which bore a conservative heel. This had to be Marion Brooke. She had shoulder length blonde hair, regal features, perfect skin and grey eyes. She was probably in her late 30’s and gave us younger girls a class act to follow.
‘Nice to meet you Ms Kink’. She had the clear neutral tone of somebody who was a graduate of the private school system. She shook hands with me; her grip was firm and dry. ‘Is there anything that you are particularly interested in?’ She gestured to the pictures surrounding us.
‘Not really’. I told her. ‘I’m under instructions to deliver something to you’.
‘Ah!’ Marion Brooke smiled and nodded her head slowly. It was as if she knew what was coming next.
I reached inside my shoulder bag, pulled out the cell phone and handed it to her. When it was in her hands it began to ring. It’s tone seemed unusually loud and shrill and I wanted it to stop.
‘You’ll have to excuse me for a moment’. Marion Brooke told me. She then turned to the Asian girl.
‘Lynda, will you take care of things?’ The girl nodded.
Marion Brooke then vanished to the back of the gallery. The girl called Lynda stepped past me and went to the front entrance. She promptly locked the door and pulled down a black blind over it. She then went back to the desk and opened a drawer.
A second later I found myself looking down the business end of a mini Glock fitted with a stubby silencer.
‘I will trust you to be still and not to say anything Ms Kink’. Lynda told me. Her tone of voice and her body language told me that she would shoot me in an instant if I disobeyed her command.
What can I say? At least things were consistent; they kept getting worse.
* * * * * *
Fortunately I did not have to wait long before Marion Brooke returned to the scene. She held the phone in her right hand.
‘So they have taken twelve of mine’. She was strangely smiling. ‘It is just as well that I have returned the compliment’.
Lynda still had the Glock aimed at me with a frighteningly steady hand.
‘So Ms Kink, as briefly as possible please explain your involvement in this scenario?’ Marion Brooke asked me.
I took a deep breath. I was scared but what did I have to fear? I was an innocent party trapped in the middle of something that did not concern me.
‘I work as an investigator for a law firm. A couple of nights ago I was kidnapped from work. Somebody drugged me and I was kept tied up with twelve other people I didn’t know. This masked woman then asked me if I would deliver something for her. So here I am’.
‘So you were held by a masked woman?’ Marion Brooke seemed amused by this. ‘How were the other hostages?’
‘We were all tied to chairs, gagged and all the girls had their shoes taken. We were all doped later, I think the hostages were to be moved to another location’.
‘Any idea where you might have been held?’
‘None’.
‘I see’. Marion Brooke looked at the phone in her hand and then at me. I felt the need to tell her something else.
‘Whoever kidnapped me has also abducted my friend, that’s why I’m here. Otherwise I would have gone to the police’.
‘Unfortunate’. Marion Brooke sighed but I knew there was zero sympathy in her for my predicament. She then turned to speak to Lynda holding the gun.
‘Lynda, we’ll take Ms Kink downstairs and put her with the others. After she’s secured we’ll lock this place down’.
I held up my hands.
‘Look I’m just the messenger, I’m here for my friend’.
‘I’m sure you are Ms Kink but your involvement on the fringes is involvement enough and I have to remove you from the scene’.
I took a few steps back, ready to turn and try and get out of the place.
‘You have a choice Ms Kink, you can submit to being made a prisoner or you can die?’
Lynda was aiming her gun at a spot right between my eyes.
I made my choice. I sighed, shrugged and held up my hands in mock surrender.
* * * * * *
Lynda pressed the gun hard against my spine as I followed Marion Brooke through a door at the back of the gallery. As she unlocked the door, Marion Brooke asked me a strange question.
‘How were you tied by the masked woman Ms Kink?’
The pressure of the gun in my back was a sufficient prompt to answer all questions.
‘I was tied to a chair, hands behind me, ankles fastened to the chair legs’.
‘And the gag?’
Was this important?
‘Hankies in my mouth held in place with a tied scarf’.
‘Well, expect a variation on those themes’. Marion Brooke opened the door and started down some steps, Lynda prodded me forward.
‘I don’t suppose it’s worth me asking what the reasons are behind these serial kidnappings?’ I ventured to ask.
‘National Security’. Marion Brooke said over her shoulder. ‘I’m afraid that is all you can know’.
We went down a set of steps to another door. I heard the sound of another door being unlocked. I followed Marion Brooke into a large basement; which was well lit and had white painted walls. Empty picture frames were stacked up while layers of bubble wrap tightly protected others. There was also an assortment of boxes in rank and file in the middle of the floor. With Lynda’s gun still in my back I was guided round behind a rampart of boxes and I gave a small gasp when I saw what was lined up against the far wall.
Twelve chairs in a row on which were seated twelve prisoners. My eyes did a quick scan of the captives. They were all secured to the chairs with a combination of cable ties, rope and duct tape. They were almost all certainly gagged but I could not confirm this fact as the head of each hostage was shrouded in an opaque, black, stocking-like hood. I was able to determine eight female captives and four male. They were all obviously conscious but seemed to be unaware of our presence. I noticed that the female captives all still had their shoes. Stupidly I felt relieved-I was already down one expensive pair of shoes.
‘They’re not drugged’. Marion Brooke turned and advised me. ‘However they are effectively rendered deaf, dumb and blind’.
‘Now it’s my turn I suppose?’
‘You suppose correctly’.
Lynda pulled the bag off my shoulder and cast it aside. I then parted company with my suit jacket. With my arms then spread out to the sides I was quickly and efficiently searched. Marion Brooke even got me to take off my boots, after a brief examination I was permitted to zip them back on.
Marion Brooke dragged over a wooden chair with arms and a straight back. It was placed in front of me and she gestured for me to take a seat. I sat down with a small sigh. Lynda came forward holding several lengths of rope and about a dozen strong white cable ties.
‘Sit up straight, shoulders back, arms on the rests, knees together, good! Shall we begin?’ Marion Brooke pulled me back in the chair. Without further ceremony my two captors started to tie me up. At least I would be conscious for this particular session of Sooz Kink in bondage.
‘You have a fascinating last name?’ Marion Brooke was behind me. ‘Kink; It can mean eccentric, curly or even mad, maybe perverse?’
Lynda looped and tightened a cable tie about my right wrist securing it to the arm of the chair; she repeated the process on my left wrist. My arms just above the elbows got similar treatment.
‘Though I much prefer; Out of the ordinary in an attractive way’. I felt Marion Brooke’s fingers playing with my tied backed hair. ‘You are certainly attractive and just a little bit out of the ordinary’.
Lynda dropped to one knee and fastened not one but two cable ties about my booted ankles. I felt another one through my pantyhose as it was zipped tight at my knees just above the tops of my boots.
‘So your friend has been taken? Is she a good friend?’
‘Yes’. I replied. I wondered where Gita was at that moment. At least we were sharing the hostage experience if not together.
Lynda the straightened and added a cable tie to each of my upper arms, locking me further into the chair.
‘Friends are important. Lynda and I are friends’.
Lynda looked up and gave a wry smile to the woman who stood behind me. She then got busy with the ropes.
I cast a glance sideways at the seated, bound and hooded hostages to my left. They were a subdued bunch compared to the ones I had shared the earlier captivity with. Not much struggling and gagged talk from them.
‘Who are they?’ I bobbed my head at them as Lynda handed a length of rope to Marion Brooke.
‘The opposition’. I was told. Marion Brooke ran the rope about my chest four times in a way that the bindings were snug above and below my breasts. She tied the rope off behind the chair. In the meantime Lynda was wrapping a further length of rope about my middle, this too was made tightly secure.
Lynda then dropped to one knee and with more rope made my legs fast to the chairs front rung. Marion Brooke then utilised some shorter lengths of rope to further bind my wrists and arms to the chair. It would take a lot to get Sooz Kink out of this particular chair.
‘Lynda, get the duct tape, a clean rag, the ear plugs and another hood’.
Lynda smiled, nodded, turned away and vanished from view.
Marion Brooke continued to play with my hair. ‘I’m sorry, you will uncomfortable but I regret that it is a necessary evil. You will be my prisoner until the current situation clarifies itself’.
Lynda then returned with the requested items. She handed a sizeable square of white rag to Marion Brooke. Hands appeared in front of my face, they were folding the rag into a compact wad, compact enough to fit in my mouth.
‘Open up please’. Marion Brooke requested me.
I sighed, raised my eyes to the ceiling and obeyed. The wad of cloth was adroitly crammed into my mouth. Cool, perfumed and perfectly manicured fingers then closed my mouth and covered my lips.
I heard a tearing sound and saw Lynda getting busy with a roll of duct tape. Marion Brooke’s fingers left my mouth and Lynda stretched a generous length of duct tape across it sealing the wadded cloth inside. The tape was pressed down and smoothed over the lower part of my face. Lynda added two further lengths of the tape to the first. I was all taped up and quiet.
‘Sorry for the gag Ms Kink but twelve others in the room are enjoying an identical discomfort if that is of any solace to you’. Marion Brooke told me.
Lynda moved my head to one side and after brushing away a few stray strands of hair inserted a soft plug into my left ear. My right ear was plugged a few seconds later and then it was vision only for me. The silence almost roared in my ears
Marion Brooke stepped round to the front of the chair in which I was a prisoner. She said something to Lynda and in my new deaf state I regretted that I could not lip-read. Lynda nodded and handed her the black stocking hood before departing the scene.
Marion Brooke got the hood ready and advanced on me. Smiling she mouthed the words Good night and then popped the hood down over my head. The soft black nylon shrouded my head and my world went black. The hood was made snug about my neck.
Despite being rendered blind, deaf and mute I sensed my captor leaving and I was alone in the company of twelve similarly afflicted hostages.
I tried to get comfortable in the chair as much as the rope and cable ties would allow. The cloth wad taped in my mouth started to get damp with my saliva, the earplugs hurt a bit and I knew it would get hot under the hood. What can I say? Different day, same old hostage shit. I willed myself to be calm and settled down for what would probably be a long wait.
Thirteen was definitely an unlucky number for me.