Francie_Pants
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- May 6, 2008
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Hey, this is something I wrote this morning, while my internet was down. Let me know how you like it, and if you like it enough for it to be continued in Part II.
I stepped out on the porch and took a deep breath of the night air. I'd been in that stuffy building, for too long, and I was ready to go home. Locking the door behind me, I made my way to my car, and got inside. I noticed that my doors were unlocked, but thought nothing of it, because I have a tendency to do absentminded things like that. As I fumbled through my purse, looking for my keys, though, I realized it wasn't my absentmindedness, after all. A hand clamped across my face, from behind, and I felt what felt like the barrel of a gun poking into my side. From behind me a voice spoke.
"Slide across to the passenger seat, Ms. Pasternak," the voice was deep, and almost a whisper, close to my ear.
With the hand across my mouth, I couldn't question this person's identity or intention, but I wasn't going to argue with the gun, so I slowly lifted my right leg and swung my right foot over to the floor on the passenger side. Then I lifted myself across the center console, and scooted into position in the passenger seat. I brought my other leg across the console, almost getting the heel of my pump caught on the shifter, but managed to lift it up, and over. The voice behind me indicated that he slid across the backseat, in unison with my movement to the passenger seat.
"Put your hands behind the seat," the voice sent chills down my spine. Reluctantly, I reached my arms around the seat. It must have been awkward for him, but he managed to put a pair of handcuffs on my wrists, while still holding his other hand over my mouth.
After a moment of fumbling, I saw him pull a roll of duct tape in front of my face. I began shaking my head, and trying to protest into his hand. With his palm over my lips, his fingers grabbed the duct tape and held it, while he pulled with the other hand, making enough of a strip to pull across my lips, which he ripped off and did. After smearing it onto my face, he tore off two more strips to reinforce it, putting them strategically across it, so that my lips were completely sealed together.
As if that wasn't bad enough, the next thing I knew, he was putting a folded cloth over my eyes, and tying it behind my head, so that now I not only couldn't speak, but I couldn't see anything.
At this point, I was becoming quite frantic. I clenched my hands into fists, and tried to pull them out of the cuffs. It didn't work. They were locked on tight. I made a bunched of muffled noises that were intended to be protests and questioning, as I listened to him climb out of the backseat, into the front seat, and rummage through my purse Finding my keys, he cranked up the car, and I soon felt us in motion. My heart sank, as the realization of what was happening started to sink in.
For what was probably only about twenty minutes, but felt like an hour, he drove in silence, making occasional turns, but I couldn't tell where we were going, because of the blindfold. The silence was maddening enough. Throughout the trip, I fidgeted, behind the seat, with the handcuffs, but I knew it was no use. I wasn't just going to miraculously pull free from them.
Upon arrival, I heard voices outside the car, before the doors opened, and one man held me still, while another got into the backseat, and unlocked my wrist cuffs. One of them may have been the man driving, but being blindfolded, I couldn't really tell this way from that. Once my wrists had been uncuffed, I was pulled quickly and forcefully from the car. Strong hands crossed my wrists in front of me and hold them, while another tied rope around them. It felt like thin rope, the kind that knots very tightly and requires great concentration to untie.
After winding the rope around my wrists in various directions,several times, to make sure they were secure, I could feel him tying the knots on the bottom of my wrists, putting the knots out of reach of my teeth. Whoever these people were, they had thought this through.
Apparently enough of the rope was left, beyond the knots, for someone to use like a leash, pulling me forward, so strong and suddenly, that I nearly toppled over. Then I was walking; walking blindly. We entered a building. By now, I was aware of atleast three men. Suddenly, one of the men grabbed me around the waist from behind, and lifted me up. Another guided my arms up in the air, and I felt something come between my wrists, then they both let go. I didn't come down though. I was hanging from a hook or something, by the ropes binding my wrists. I pulled and twisted, but it was very uncomfortable to hang like that, and painful to struggle too much.
Thoughts had been going through my mind, all this time. Worrisome thoughts. I wondered who these people were, and what they wanted with me. The guy in the car knew my name, so it wasn't a case of mistaken identity. I had all of these questions that needed answering; questions I would be asking, were I not so effectively muted.
I felt my pumps dangling on the ends of my toes, and flexed the toes, pulling them back into contact with my heels, then rubbing them against my legs to work them back into place. This apparently got their attention, because within the next few seconds, I felt one at either side of me, lifting my legs, and pulling them out to either side.
"Nice shoes, Ms. Pasternak, but you don't need them right now," the man on my right taunted, as he grabbed the heel of my pump, and pulled the shoe off. The man on the left did the same thing. They were holding my legs by the calves, so I couldn't exactly kick free, or try to stop them. I attempted to protest again, but my goofy sounding noises quickly reminded me of the gag.
"Such smooth nylon," the man on the left said, commenting on my tan stockings, then dragging a finger up and down in my arch, "Very smooth."
I'm very ticklish, so that was more than enough to make me tense up, and attempt a few more remarks through the tape. They both noticed my apparent displeasure at the soft teasing, and let me have it. With their forearms under my calves, and each with one hand gripped around one of my ankles, they turned their free hands loose on each of my soles, spidering and dragging fingers all over the nylon.
I couldn't help it. I tried not to laugh. I tried for several agonizing moments, but they didn't stop tickling. Not after 30 seconds. Not after a minute. They just kept going. I started laughing out loud, muffled by the tape, but still loud enough for them to get the picture, and get the picture they did. Fingers flittered wildly against my helpless feet for almost five minutes, while they held them there.
I tried to use the added leverage, given by them holding my legs up, to lift my wrists off of the hook, but every time I started to push up, another finger would drag across an arch, and I'd lose any composure I had been building up. Tears filled my eyes, and started soaking the blindfold, as they continued their torture on my helpless feet, forcing me to laugh to the point of barely being able to breathe, before they let my feet fall, and stepped away.
Hanging there, breathing as deeply through my nose as I could, I tried to compose myself and catch my breath, when I heard another person enter the room.
"Ok, the plane is ready." It was a new voice. One I hadn't heard....A plane?!? What did they need a plane for? When it started to sink in that my transfer was not over yet, I began to swing and writhe, trying to throw myself off of the hook. It was probably quite an amusing show to watch, because I never got close to being successful in my attempts.
They put my shoes back on, and lifted me off the hook. Pulling the rope, they led me out of the room, and after a few minutes, I walked up what I was sure was the steps into the plane. Then they forced me face down onto the floor, cut the ropes on my wrists, pulled them behind me, crossed and retied them. In an additional, and in my opinion,unecessary measure, they crossed my ankles, tying them together, then bent my legs at the knees, and finished by tying a rope between my wrists and my ankles, leaving me hogtied.
Moments later, I felt us start to move, and my fears of being in a plane were confirmed. We were going somewhere, but where? And, why?
.
I stepped out on the porch and took a deep breath of the night air. I'd been in that stuffy building, for too long, and I was ready to go home. Locking the door behind me, I made my way to my car, and got inside. I noticed that my doors were unlocked, but thought nothing of it, because I have a tendency to do absentminded things like that. As I fumbled through my purse, looking for my keys, though, I realized it wasn't my absentmindedness, after all. A hand clamped across my face, from behind, and I felt what felt like the barrel of a gun poking into my side. From behind me a voice spoke.
"Slide across to the passenger seat, Ms. Pasternak," the voice was deep, and almost a whisper, close to my ear.
With the hand across my mouth, I couldn't question this person's identity or intention, but I wasn't going to argue with the gun, so I slowly lifted my right leg and swung my right foot over to the floor on the passenger side. Then I lifted myself across the center console, and scooted into position in the passenger seat. I brought my other leg across the console, almost getting the heel of my pump caught on the shifter, but managed to lift it up, and over. The voice behind me indicated that he slid across the backseat, in unison with my movement to the passenger seat.
"Put your hands behind the seat," the voice sent chills down my spine. Reluctantly, I reached my arms around the seat. It must have been awkward for him, but he managed to put a pair of handcuffs on my wrists, while still holding his other hand over my mouth.
After a moment of fumbling, I saw him pull a roll of duct tape in front of my face. I began shaking my head, and trying to protest into his hand. With his palm over my lips, his fingers grabbed the duct tape and held it, while he pulled with the other hand, making enough of a strip to pull across my lips, which he ripped off and did. After smearing it onto my face, he tore off two more strips to reinforce it, putting them strategically across it, so that my lips were completely sealed together.
As if that wasn't bad enough, the next thing I knew, he was putting a folded cloth over my eyes, and tying it behind my head, so that now I not only couldn't speak, but I couldn't see anything.
At this point, I was becoming quite frantic. I clenched my hands into fists, and tried to pull them out of the cuffs. It didn't work. They were locked on tight. I made a bunched of muffled noises that were intended to be protests and questioning, as I listened to him climb out of the backseat, into the front seat, and rummage through my purse Finding my keys, he cranked up the car, and I soon felt us in motion. My heart sank, as the realization of what was happening started to sink in.
For what was probably only about twenty minutes, but felt like an hour, he drove in silence, making occasional turns, but I couldn't tell where we were going, because of the blindfold. The silence was maddening enough. Throughout the trip, I fidgeted, behind the seat, with the handcuffs, but I knew it was no use. I wasn't just going to miraculously pull free from them.
Upon arrival, I heard voices outside the car, before the doors opened, and one man held me still, while another got into the backseat, and unlocked my wrist cuffs. One of them may have been the man driving, but being blindfolded, I couldn't really tell this way from that. Once my wrists had been uncuffed, I was pulled quickly and forcefully from the car. Strong hands crossed my wrists in front of me and hold them, while another tied rope around them. It felt like thin rope, the kind that knots very tightly and requires great concentration to untie.
After winding the rope around my wrists in various directions,several times, to make sure they were secure, I could feel him tying the knots on the bottom of my wrists, putting the knots out of reach of my teeth. Whoever these people were, they had thought this through.
Apparently enough of the rope was left, beyond the knots, for someone to use like a leash, pulling me forward, so strong and suddenly, that I nearly toppled over. Then I was walking; walking blindly. We entered a building. By now, I was aware of atleast three men. Suddenly, one of the men grabbed me around the waist from behind, and lifted me up. Another guided my arms up in the air, and I felt something come between my wrists, then they both let go. I didn't come down though. I was hanging from a hook or something, by the ropes binding my wrists. I pulled and twisted, but it was very uncomfortable to hang like that, and painful to struggle too much.
Thoughts had been going through my mind, all this time. Worrisome thoughts. I wondered who these people were, and what they wanted with me. The guy in the car knew my name, so it wasn't a case of mistaken identity. I had all of these questions that needed answering; questions I would be asking, were I not so effectively muted.
I felt my pumps dangling on the ends of my toes, and flexed the toes, pulling them back into contact with my heels, then rubbing them against my legs to work them back into place. This apparently got their attention, because within the next few seconds, I felt one at either side of me, lifting my legs, and pulling them out to either side.
"Nice shoes, Ms. Pasternak, but you don't need them right now," the man on my right taunted, as he grabbed the heel of my pump, and pulled the shoe off. The man on the left did the same thing. They were holding my legs by the calves, so I couldn't exactly kick free, or try to stop them. I attempted to protest again, but my goofy sounding noises quickly reminded me of the gag.
"Such smooth nylon," the man on the left said, commenting on my tan stockings, then dragging a finger up and down in my arch, "Very smooth."
I'm very ticklish, so that was more than enough to make me tense up, and attempt a few more remarks through the tape. They both noticed my apparent displeasure at the soft teasing, and let me have it. With their forearms under my calves, and each with one hand gripped around one of my ankles, they turned their free hands loose on each of my soles, spidering and dragging fingers all over the nylon.
I couldn't help it. I tried not to laugh. I tried for several agonizing moments, but they didn't stop tickling. Not after 30 seconds. Not after a minute. They just kept going. I started laughing out loud, muffled by the tape, but still loud enough for them to get the picture, and get the picture they did. Fingers flittered wildly against my helpless feet for almost five minutes, while they held them there.
I tried to use the added leverage, given by them holding my legs up, to lift my wrists off of the hook, but every time I started to push up, another finger would drag across an arch, and I'd lose any composure I had been building up. Tears filled my eyes, and started soaking the blindfold, as they continued their torture on my helpless feet, forcing me to laugh to the point of barely being able to breathe, before they let my feet fall, and stepped away.
Hanging there, breathing as deeply through my nose as I could, I tried to compose myself and catch my breath, when I heard another person enter the room.
"Ok, the plane is ready." It was a new voice. One I hadn't heard....A plane?!? What did they need a plane for? When it started to sink in that my transfer was not over yet, I began to swing and writhe, trying to throw myself off of the hook. It was probably quite an amusing show to watch, because I never got close to being successful in my attempts.
They put my shoes back on, and lifted me off the hook. Pulling the rope, they led me out of the room, and after a few minutes, I walked up what I was sure was the steps into the plane. Then they forced me face down onto the floor, cut the ropes on my wrists, pulled them behind me, crossed and retied them. In an additional, and in my opinion,unecessary measure, they crossed my ankles, tying them together, then bent my legs at the knees, and finished by tying a rope between my wrists and my ankles, leaving me hogtied.
Moments later, I felt us start to move, and my fears of being in a plane were confirmed. We were going somewhere, but where? And, why?
.
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