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Linda's Great Escape, Part I

MTJpub

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The Nylon Dungeon: Linda's Great Escape, Part I

By Daumantas

Linda knew that if this were going to work, she would have to be careful.

She slipped her hands slowly into the lining of the top of her skirt, taking care to feign sleep in case the security camera should flash on her. Once she had freed herself, she would only have a short window of opportunity. She hoped it would be enough.

Fortunately, they had cuffed her hands behind her back and not above her head, allowing her to conceal the keys in the top of her skirt. She was lying on a stiff military-issue cot, her ankles shackled, but she had more freedom of movement than she would have if they had left her in an arms-up position for the night; and more importantly, she had access to her skirt lining and had been able to conceal the keys there. Also, although she had been left with only a black bra for a top, they had left on the black skirt, over her tan pantyhose; her gamble had paid off. She had not been happy to find herself incarcerated with another girl for the night - her plan would have worked better if she were alone - but Linda knew that a spare set of keys were normally stashed in one of the cabinets in a far corner of the room, in case an owner should care to remove one of the girls on a whim, which would allow her to release the other girl. The girl, named Melissa, was exhausted from a fierce tickling session that night and was sound asleep.

Linda had gotten the keys during her own session, when her sexual services had been requested of her by a Dungeon member the captives referred to behind his back as "the Weasel." He was a thoroughly unpleasant and somewhat disgusting computer geek who had struck it rich through development of computer game software. Even with his riches, he was so hopelessly nerdy he could seldom get decent service in a restaurant, let alone a date, and even further from finding a girl who would willingly allow him to indulge his nylon-foot-tickling fetish; but with his discovery of the Nylon Dungeon, he had a bevy of beautiful, nylon-clad women at his beck and call.

Linda had pretended to enjoy having sex with the Weasel last night, faking an especially intense orgasm, in order to distract him. It was vile, but it had served the purpose: he never noticed her slipping his keys out of his pocket and into the lining on the waistband of her skirt. Now she would use those keys to escape. She had a plan, based on hours of mental calculation and study of the rooms. She would get out of this awful place.

Slowly, taking care not to drop the precious keys, Linda pulled them out from her waistband and gently felt them with her fingers until she determined which was the handcuff key. Ever so gently, she positioned the key in her fingers, then moved her hands a few inches at a time until she was able to reach the lock. Barely moving, a tiny bit at a time, she slid the key into the lock and turned it. With a click, the cuff on her left wrist opened. Taking care not to make her movements too obvious, she used the key to remove the cuff from her right wrist as well.

Now it was time to put the next part of her cleverly, carefully orchestrated plan into fruition. She leapt up, changing in an instant from agonizingly slow to exceedingly fast motion. She unlocked her legs as swiftly as she could. She then sprinted over to the cabinet, and found the extra set of keys to free Melissa. Finally, she sprinted into the bathroom, and took the detachable towel bar from the towel rack. It wasn't very strong for what she had in mind, but it would have to do.

Melissa gasped momentarily as she felt Linda's motions at her wrists. Linda immediately shushed her.

Waking up, Melissa whispered, "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Linda whispered back. "We're getting the hell out of here!"

"Are you nuts? Do you know what they'll do to us if they catch us?"

"So what?" whispered Linda, as she unlocked Melissa's ankles. "We've gotta try! Or do you want to stay here?"

"Of course I don't want to stay here!"

"Well, then come on! Give me a hand with the vent!"

Linda and her now-freed cellmate sprinted to the ventilation vent along the wall. It was not large, but it did look big enough for a person to slide through it. The ventilation was covered on the inside with a sheet of soundproofing material to prevent sounds from traveling out of the rooms, but otherwise did not appear terribly strong.

Linda shoved the towel bar into the grille work of the vent, and began pulling. Her instincts were right - the vent wasn't very strong at all. These guys weren't so smart - they didn't even have enough sense not to make the vents tight. As the grille cracked loose from the wall, Linda and Melissa caught it and set it down.

"All right," said Linda, "you first."

"Not me," Melissa said, still nervous, "you go first. I'll follow you."

There was no time to argue - every millisecond counted. "All right, then give me a boost," Linda said. Melissa boosted her upward, and Linda slid into the vent.



******



Meanwhile, in the surveillance room for that cellblock, the morning shift was coming on duty.

"Morning, guys," said John, one of the black-shirted security guards. He brought a white bakery box with him, tied with white string. He set the box on a table.

"Morning, John," chorused Frank and Steve, at their respective stations, where they sat before screens that showed each room in their assigned area, flashing by every 15 seconds or so. John would be relieving Steve; Frank still had two hours to go before his shift ended.

"I brought some donuts from the bakery," John said, indicating the white box.

"Bless you, you thoughtful bastard," Frank said, chuckling. "I'm starving."

"Any activity?" John said, walking over to the coffee pot.

"Not much," said Steve. "22A had to go take a piss."

Frank, meanwhile, got up from his seat and went over to the table with the white box. He opened it and fumbled through the donuts inside.

"Any blueberry donuts?"

"Nope, sorry Frank."

Frank looked crestfallen. "None?"

"No."

Frank stared at the box for a moment. "This early in the morning, and they didn't have any blueberry donuts?"

"Frank, I asked them specifically. Trust me, if the bakery had blueberry donuts, they were hiding them damn good."

Frank again looked through the selection. "What did you get crullers for? Who likes crullers?"

"Frank, if you don't like what I got, you can get the donuts tomorrow."

Frank, with an air of disappointment, took a German chocolate donut. "A lot of people like blueberry donuts, you know."

John simply shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Frank, biting into his donut, sat down at his station and refocused on the screen. The images flickered past into the various cells...and into Linda's cell - just in time to show Linda, boosted by Melissa, disappearing into the ventilation duct.

"HOLY SHIT!" Frank howled, his mouth half full of donut. He swallowed the rest - then hit a red button which set off flashing red lights, and barked into a microphone which was directed into the other security areas: "Emergency! Security breach in cell 26C! Repeat - security breach in cell 26C!"

**********



Linda, climbing into the duct, made a discovery she had not considered as part of her plan - the duct narrowed as it drew away from the opening, becoming a tight fit even for her lithe, thin body. Turning around to help Melissa up was out of the question.

"It gets narrower up here! I can't turn around!" she called back.

"Just go!" Melissa shouted. "Don't wait for me! I'll try to follow as best I can! Just run for it and get help!"

Linda scrambled into the duct and began clawing her way in the direction she felt air coming from. Melissa, meanwhile, frantically scurried about the room, looking for something mobile she could use to stand on to reach the vent. Finding nothing, she realized she would have to simply leap up into it. She crouched down, threw herself upward - then, hanging on with all her might to the sides and grunting with the effort, she pulled herself into the vent.

But she was unable to get as good a purchase on the duct as Linda had, and her arms flailed as she felt herself sliding backward. Scrambling for something to hold onto, and at the same time trying to pull herself forward into the tiny opening, she managed to wedge her left arm underneath herself. She could not move her arm any further, and it was just enough to plug all the room left in the opening. She could not move forward into the hole, nor could she back out again.

"Oh God," she wailed, "I'm stuck!!!"

Linda hesitated for a minute, then said, "Hang on, I'll..."

"NO!" Melissa shouted. "Keep going! Save yourself!"

Linda knew she was right - she would have to abandon Melissa. She continued scrambling down the vent, following the direction of the air.


************


Nigel Wulf walked, but did not run, at a brisk pace in the direction of 26C, accompanied by Steve, John and Frank. "No need to hurry, gentlemen, they won't get far."


"Sir, I'm...really sorry about this," Frank muttered.


"Sorry doesn't cut it, mister," Nigel snapped. "Donuts, for crying out loud. I want you two clowns to get down to the gym today and run laps for 10 miles. Maybe then you'll work off some of those goddamned donuts."

"Yes, sir," John and Frank said in unison.

Nigel unlocked the door to 26C, and the four men entered - to be greeted by the extraordinary sight of Melissa's nude-stocking-clad legs and bare feet dangling from the ventilation duct. Melissa was sobbing with despair. "Well, well, what do we have here," Nigel said, as the others stifled an impulse to laugh.

Nigel walked over to the duct. "All right, sweetie, show's over," he shouted. "You're not going anywhere. Get out of there now."

"I can't," Melissa wailed through her sobs. "I'm stuck."

The four men exchanged looks; then Nigel nodded to Frank, who walked over to Melissa, took hold of her legs, and gave a quick tug. Melissa yelped in pain.

"She's not lying, sir, she really is stuck," Frank said.

Nigel considered the situation for a moment.

"We can't do anything that would injure her," he said. "The owners wouldn't like that."

"We're gonna have to get somebody from maintenance to disassemble that thing to get her out of there," Steve said.

"Should we put in a call, sir?" John asked.

Nigel thought for a moment - then a cruel smile twisted across his face. "No," he said. "Let's not. She wanted to go up there so badly, let's leave her up there for awhile." He smirked. "I've got a better idea. Go get a wooden block and a pair of stocks from the nearest supply room."

Within minutes, the three men had returned with the supplies. Instantly realizing what the cruel master tickler had in mind, they were already smiling viciously as they set the block up immediately below Melissa's dangling feet, then attached the stocks.

Melissa, too, understood what they had in mind. "Nooo, God, no, please, don't," she begged. "I swear...I'll never try anything like this again...please, oh God, please don't do this...."

As Nigel picked up Melissa's feet and placed them in the stocks, then closed them over her ankles and padlocked them, Melissa's pleas turned more and more incoherent. "No, oh God, no, please, no," she moaned.

"Frank, would you hand me a paintbrush from the cabinet please?"

Indeed he would. Frank selected a fine-bristled black brush from the cabinet and duly handed it to Nigel. "Poor girl," Nigel said aloud. "You might have had a few hours peace before your next tickling, if you didn't try this."

As the brush began slowly stroking her nylon-clad soles, Melissa exploded with laughter. Her sobs turned almost instantaneously to screams.

Nigel worked the brush with skill, swirling it slowly across her insteps, dancing it across her toes, turning to brief, vigorous flurries as he touched her arches. The nylon-clad soles flexed uselessly in the stocks. Nigel added his fingers to the torture, sliding expertly into the area beneath her toes and stroking under and between them. Every touch of his fingers, every sweep of each individual bristle of the brush, was pure agony for Melissa, striking her Tickling Serum-sensitized feet with all the intensity of a shock from an electric outlet.

Melissa's screaming, tortured laughter, her breathless pleas for mercy, her gasps and moans and cries, echoed through the aluminum-sided panels of the ventilation system like a voice echoing off a mountainside. The metallic walls seemed almost to amplify the sound, making it all the more hideous.

Linda, frantically trying to scramble for freedom, was suddenly overwhelmed by the sound of the echoing laughter ringing through the walls of the ventilation system through which she was crawling. She knew it was Melissa. She knew that this could only mean that they had caught her. And that meant they now knew Linda was missing, too.

The shrieking, echoing, amplified laughter brought Linda to a momentary halt. Her lip quivered and she began to sob as her intense fear of being tickled began once again to overwhelm her. Of all the places she could imagine herself being imprisoned, she could think of nothing she could fear worse than being tickled. All those awful memories...that stepbrother...the way he had gazed at her cruelly when her stepfather and his mother introduced them, making her immediately fearful...the night the new couple was off being romantic, when that rat bastard had chased her, screaming, through the house, before finally catching up with her, pinning her face down on the sofa, and tickling her sides and feet unmercifully. She had nearly been sick that night, so unrelenting was the tickling. It had left her traumatized. Now, she was sick again, with fear.

Clearing her mind as best she could, Linda struggled forward, the laughter of Melissa almost seeming to taunt her as she groped toward freedom.

Nigel and the others were by now taking turns tormenting Melissa's helpless feet. Her laughter cascaded fiercely through the ventilation ducts, and into the rooms adjoining the one where she and Linda had been held captive. Although the soundproofing kept noise from escaping the rooms, it did nothing about noise entering the rooms; and so the girls in nearby rooms could hear Melissa's tearful laughter and pleas for mercy...

Ann, her wrists shackled above her head, looked up at the ventilation duct from which the noise emerged. She quickly made an approximate guess as to the reason for the noise, and hoped only that it would not go on too long. She remembered her own foiled escape attempt of some months before. She winced, thinking of the result, and a cold chill ran down her spine...

Michelle, her hands cuffed behind her, leaned her head back against the pole. What could this be? Were they inflicting some yet new method of torture, that she hadn't yet learned of, on some poor innocent girl? Or was this some sort of trick - a voice piped through the ventilation system as a way of mocking the captives? Or was it simply that this hideous place was finally beginning to drive her over the brink of insanity? She hung her head, and began to weep...

In the bathroom nearest her cell, Gina shifted from one gray-stockinged foot to the other as she momentarily stopped applying her makeup, at the shock of the voice emerging from the ventilation system. But she hesitated only for a second. No doubt this, whatever it was, was horrifying; but hearing and seeing horrifying things was something that happened all the time in this place; as far as Gina was concerned, it was hard enough for her to handle the horrifying things that were thrown directly at her. Her fellow captives would have to handle their own suffering as best they could. She couldn't afford to waste any time; she had standing orders from her captor, Dan, to be ready at 9 a.m. sharp every morning to give him a warm-oil massage and a blow job, should he so desire it. More often than not, he didn't even show up, but it was unpredictable, and Gina knew enough not to try to second-guess it. If I'm even a second late, she thought, that'll be me that people will hear screaming through the vents. She steeled herself to ignore the noise, and went back to carefully applying her eyeliner....



Linda now was sobbing, trying desperately to find an opening, before she was discovered - or before the terror of Melissa's laughter finally broke her down. Suddenly, in the darkened vents, she saw - light! Could it be? She crawled toward the source. Sure enough - a vent led upward at an angle, toward sunlight. A way out! She crawled to the grille at the top.

As she began using the towel rack to pry away the grille, she heard the laughter beginning to finally die down behind her. Just a few more minutes...

Suddenly, a familiar odor struck her nostrils. Cinnamon!

"Oh, God, no, not now," she moaned. The Sleeping Agent, triggered by her action in prying at the grille, was blowing from a small valve near the top of the vent.

Linda felt the grille beginning to crack open. She pressed her face as hard as she could against the grille, trying to suck in fresh air to counteract the Sleeping Agent which was escaping into the vent. She felt herself weakening.

With a last loud crack, the grille finally broke open. Linda, weakened by the Sleeping Agent, grunted as she pushed the grille from the vent. She pulled herself through the opening and sucked in air.

Even though the Sleeping Agent she had ingested made her dizzy and made it difficult to stand, she climbed upward and looked around. She was in what appeared to be a meadow - the Nylon Dungeon, clearly, was underground. She sucked in the fresh air again, and despite her weakened state, laughed with joy.

"Oh God, I made it," she shrieked. "I'm free."

Linda took off running across the meadow, as fast as she could in her weakened state.

(Will Linda make her way to freedom? Will she be able to notify the authorities? Find out in the hair-raising second part of "Linda's Great Escape"!!!!!!!!!!!)
 
This is a classic! - I loved it back then and I love it now. Never knew there was a second part to this tale though. I shall read on... :)
 
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