Silenced On Air F/M, FM+/M+F+ - Final Chapter Added!!

[Boundngagged75]

Part 1:
The public access television studio was a small, modest space with low ceilings and plain, off-white walls. The floor was a patchwork of scuffed linoleum tiles, slightly uneven in places. A few old, mismatched rugs were scattered around to reduce echo. The lighting was harsh and basic, with exposed fixtures that cast strong shadows. A couple of heavy, outdated cameras were mounted on wheeled tripods, their cables snaking across the floor and taped down in places.

At the center of the room was a simple set: a battered wooden desk with a peeling laminate surface and a couple of worn-out chairs. The backdrop was a faded curtain in a generic burgundy color, hanging loosely from a metal rod. In one corner, there was a green screen that had seen better days, with a few wrinkles and frayed edges.

Next to the desk, there was a well-worn, slightly lumpy sofa upholstered in a faded, patterned fabric that was once vibrant but now looked muted from years of use. The cushions were a bit saggy, and there was a small tear on one armrest, hastily stitched up with mismatched thread. A couple of throw pillows, one with a frayed edge and the other slightly overstuffed, were propped up on either end.

The sofa sat at an angle, close enough to the desk for easy conversation during interviews but far enough to avoid being in the direct glare of the studio lights. The area in front of the sofa was covered by an old, thin coffee table, probably a thrift store find. It held a few scattered magazines and a ceramic mug with a local station’s logo, often used by the guests during on-air chats.

The sofa added a homey touch to the set, making it feel more like a casual living room than a professional studio. Despite its shabby appearance, it was a comfortable spot where guests often relax and chatted informally with the host, adding to the studio’s welcoming, grassroots vibe.

A control room, visible through a glass window, was crammed with outdated equipment. The switchboard looked like it’s from the '80s, with buttons and sliders that had lost their labels over time. A couple of small, grainy monitors showed the live feed and different camera angles. There was a faint hum from the ventilation system, which struggled to keep the room cool.

Despite the wear and tear, the studio had a cozy, DIY charm, with a few personal touches—like a shelf lined with VHS tapes and a corkboard pinned with old flyers and Polaroids. The staff, though small in number, were passionate and resourceful, making the best of what they had.

Mr. Katz, an older man with a gentle demeanor, sat on the worn sofa, his posture stiff and uneasy. He was dressed in a grey suit that had seen better days, the fabric slightly wrinkled, and the fit a bit loose around his thin frame. His once-dark hair was now a soft silver, combed neatly to the side. His hands were folded in his lap, but what caught the eye was the coarse rope binding his wrists together, the knot tied firmly but not cruelly.

He glanced around the set with a mixture of confusion and resignation, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the situation pressed down on him. The room’s familiar, cozy atmosphere felt strange now, almost surreal, with him trapped in this odd scenario. The faded patterns of the sofa’s upholstery contrast with the severity of the ropes around his wrists, a jarring juxtaposition in the otherwise homely space.

Lana, the studio’s assistant, now occupied the chair at the desk where Mr. Katz usually held court. In this peculiar segment, she had taken on the role of the kidnapper, her usual warm smile replaced with a playful yet assertive expression. She’s dressed in her usual attire—a simple blouse and slacks—but the way she sat, leaning slightly forward with her hands resting confidently on the desk, exudes an air of control.

The camera captured this unusual scene: the seasoned host, Mr. Katz, subdued and bound, while Lana, usually the one working behind the scenes, now commanded the show. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she looks directly into the camera, fully embracing the absurdity of the situation. She shook her long wild blonde hair behind her shoulders. The old studio, with its tired décor and dated equipment, had become the stage for this unexpected role reversal, adding a strange new layer to its long history of quirky broadcasts.

I walked onto the set, the atmosphere thickened with a strange mix of tension and humor. I approach Mr. Katz with a neatly folded bandana in hand, his eyes widening in mock surprise as he realized what was about to happen. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, I gently slipped the gag over his mouth, pulled under his nose and over his chin, tightly around his mouth and tied it securely at the back of his head. The fabric muffled his protests, turning his voice into soft, unintelligible murmurs.

Lana, still seated at the desk, watched with a grin. She leaned forward, her tone dripping with playful mockery. "Finally, Mr. Katz," she teased, her voice light but with a hint of triumph, "I get to silence you. No more long-winded speeches for a change!"

“Mmmph! Mmmpphh!” Mr. Katz squirmed slightly on the sofa, his eyes narrowing in exaggerated defiance. He tries to respond, but the gag reduced his words to a series of muffled sounds—part protest, part laughter. He shook his head in mock frustration, but it was clear from the sparkle in his eyes that he was in on the joke. The whole scene was absurd, a playful twist in the small, quirky world of the studio. The old cameras captured it all: Lana’s mischievous grin, my satisfied expression as I stepped back, and Mr. Katz’s good-natured struggle, making for a segment that was as bizarre as it was entertaining.

I stepped back for a moment, observing Mr. Katz with a mix of concern and curiosity. His muffled sounds had a playful tone, but I wanted to make sure he was comfortable. "Is the gag okay, Mr. Katz?" I asked, my voice gentle, but with a hint of amusement.

Mr. Katz paused his playful squirming and met my gaze, nodding slightly as he offered a muffled, but affirmative, "Mmmph-hmm." His eyes crinkled at the corners, signaling his approval and his enjoyment of the playful scene.

Lana, not missing a beat, smirked and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I think it could be a little tighter," she quipped with mock seriousness, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge me to take it a step further.

Mr. Katz’s eyes widened in exaggerated alarm, and he shook his head quickly, his muffled voice rising in playful protest. “Mmm… Mmpphh!” The exchange added another layer of humor to the situation, with Lana fully embracing her role in this offbeat power dynamic. The studio, usually a place of routine broadcasts, had become a stage for this lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek drama, where even the simplest actions were infused with a sense of fun and camaraderie.

With Mr. Katz bound and gagged on the sofa, the crew scrambled into position, a few chuckles exchanged among them as they adjusted the cameras and sound equipment. The usual pre-broadcast buzz had an added layer of excitement, the absurdity of the situation giving the studio a lively, almost giddy energy. The red light on the main camera blinked to life, signaling the start of the live broadcast.

Lana, now fully in character as the new "host," sat up straighter in the chair behind the desk, her expression a blend of mischief and mock authority. She glanced at Mr. Katz, who was fidgeting on the sofa, his muffled grunts filling the space between her words.


"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to a very special edition of our show!" Lana began, her voice smooth and commanding. "As you can see, there’s been a little change in the program." She gestured towards Mr. Katz, who responded with a muffled, "Mmmph!" as he wiggled slightly, his protests barely audible through the gag.

"Mr. Katz here is a little tied up… and gagged… and has been... temporarily relieved of his duties," she continued, her tone dripping with faux seriousness. "You see, I've taken him hostage—" Mr. Katz let out another muffled groan, this one longer and more emphatic, though still playfully theatrical, "—and, from now on, I’m in charge!"

Lana paused, giving the audience a moment to take in the scene. Mr. Katz, never one to miss a beat, offered another series of muffled sounds, his eyes wide as if in mock alarm, adding to the comedy of the moment. “Mmmpph! Mmmpphh!”

"So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show," Lana said with a grin, her eyes twinkling with delight. "Because tonight, things are going to be a little... different." Mr. Katz’s final muffled protest is more resigned, a low hum that blended into the background as Lana took the reins of the broadcast.

The crew, now fully in sync with the bit, kept the cameras rolling, capturing every moment of this offbeat takeover. The live audience from the comfort of their homes, no doubt perplexed and amused, watched as the usual order of things was turned on its head, with Lana confidently steering the show into uncharted territory.


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 2:
In the small, dimly lit control room, I stand beside Tom, an older man with a grizzled appearance and a calm, steady demeanor. Tom had a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair, cropped short, and a matching beard that was neatly trimmed. His eyes, though slightly tired from years of working behind the scenes, still sparkled with the humor of the situation unfolding on the monitors in front of him. He dressed in a faded flannel shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and a pair of worn jeans, looking every bit the seasoned veteran of the studio.

Next to Tom was Eleanor, the young intern who had been with the studio for only a few months. Eleanor was fresh-faced and wide-eyed, her short brown hair tucked behind her ears as she leaned forward, captivated by the screens. She was wearing a casual outfit—a simple graphic tee under a denim jacket, paired with black jeans and sneakers. There was an eager energy about her, and she was clearly thrilled to be a part of this quirky broadcast.

The three of us watched the segment unfold with amusement, the control room filled with the soft hum of the equipment and the occasional burst of laughter from the monitors as Lana and Mr. Katz continued their banter.

Eleanor glanced up at me, her face alight with a grin. "This is hilarious! I can’t believe Mr. Katz agreed to this," she said, her voice full of excitement.

Tom chuckled, nodding as he adjusted a few settings on the soundboard. "I’ve been here a long time, and I gotta say, this might be one of the funniest things we’ve ever aired," he added, his tone full of appreciation for the lighthearted moment. "Lana’s really got a knack for this."

I smiled, enjoying the camaraderie and the shared amusement. "Yeah, it’s definitely a good one," I replied, glancing back at the monitors where Mr. Katz’s muffled protests continue to play out.
After a moment, I took a step back from the controls. "I’m going to step outside for a break," I said, stretching slightly. "Need to get some fresh air before the next segment kicks off."

Tom gave me a nod, his eyes still on the screen. "Sounds good. We’ve got it covered here," he replied, his voice reassuring.

Eleanor turned her attention back to the monitors, still smiling. "Enjoy the break! You don’t want to miss the rest of this, though," she added with a playful tone.

I gave a quick nod and a smile before heading toward the door, leaving the control room’s cozy, buzzing atmosphere behind as me I made my way outside for a moment of quiet before the broadcast continued.



As the show continued, the dynamic between Lana and Mr. Katz became the focal point, their playful banter adding a humorous twist to the unusual situation. Lana, now fully comfortable in her role as the "host," leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs and glancing over at Mr. Katz, who was still bound and gagged on the sofa.

"Well, Mr. Katz," she began, her voice dripping with mock concern, "I can see you’re just bursting with things to say. Do you want me to remove the gag?" She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow as she waited for his response.

Mr. Katz immediately began nodding vigorously, his eyes wide with exaggerated eagerness, and he emitted a series of muffled, pleading sounds. "Mmmph! Mmmph!" His tone was one of playful desperation, clearly enjoying the act.

Lana smirked, pretending to consider it for a moment. "Hmm, on second thought," she said with a mischievous grin, "I think I better not. After all, the audience might enjoy the show more this way!" Mr. Katz’s muffled groan in response was a mix of mock frustration and amusement, his shoulders slumping in exaggerated defeat.

Lana continued, her tone now more lighthearted and playful. "Besides, I think the ratings have never been so high! Who knew all we needed was to tie up the old host to get people tuning in?" She chuckled, and the crew couldn’t help but stifle their own laughter as they worked the cameras and soundboard.

“Mmm.. Mmmpph! Mmpphh!” Mr. Katz’s muffled protests continued, but there was a clear twinkle in his eyes as he played along. His feigned attempts to speak through the gag only added to the comedy, each sound he made drawing a more amused expression from Lana.

"See?" Lana said, turning back to the camera with a grin. "Even Mr. Katz agrees—this is the best show we’ve ever had!" Mr. Katz shook his head vigorously, but his muffled sounds suggested he was having just as much fun as Lana was.

The studio, usually a place of routine broadcasts, was now the stage for this spontaneous, offbeat comedy, with Lana and Mr. Katz delivering a performance that was as entertaining as it was unexpected. The playful back-and-forth between them, underscored by the absurdity of the situation, kept the audience at home hooked, and Lana, reveling in the moment, expertly guided the show through this bizarre yet hilarious segment.


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 3:
As I made my way toward the back studio exit, the familiar sounds of the broadcast gradually faded, replaced by the quieter hum of the building. Just as I reached the door, I noticed Russell, the janitor, coming around the corner.

Russell was a tall, lanky man, with long, thinning hair that hung down to his shoulders in uneven strands. His frame was almost skeletal, his clothes—a faded blue work shirt and loose, well-worn pants—hung off him in a way that made him seem even more slender. His face was lined with years of work, but there was a certain warmth in his eyes, a quiet contentment that came from familiarity with the studio’s routine.

As I approach, Russell was in the process of pulling on a pair of yellow rubber gloves, snapping them into place with a practiced motion. He looked up and gave me a small nod, his expression neutral but friendly.

"Hey, Russell," I greeted him with a quick smile as I slowed my pace slightly.

"Hey there," Russell replied in his usual low, unhurried voice. He gave me a brief, knowing glance, his eyes suggesting he was well aware of the unusual scene unfolding in the studio, though he was too reserved to comment on it.

I nodded back, the moment of connection brief but familiar. "Heading out for a quick break," I mentioned casually as I pushed open the exit door.

Russell gave another small nod, his attention already turned back to his work as he prepared to tackle the next task. "See you around," he said simply, his voice trailing off as I stepped outside.
As the door closed behind me, the cool air hit my face, a refreshing contrast to the warmth and energy inside. The brief encounter with Russell lingered in my mind for just a moment before I let it go, taking a deep breath and enjoying the quiet before returning to the buzz of the studio.

As I stepped outside, the cool evening air was a welcome change from the stuffy warmth of the studio. I took a deep breath, letting the fresh air clear my mind. The sky was beginning to darken, and the quiet hum of distant traffic filled the space around me. It was peaceful, a moment of calm before I had to return to the bustling energy inside.

But then, a faint noise caught my attention—something out of place in the stillness. It came from behind the dumpster near the edge of the parking lot, a muffled sound that made me stop and listen more closely. It was the kind of sound that instantly set me on edge, stirring a sense of unease.

Curiosity and concern drove me forward, and I slowly approached the dumpster, my footsteps quiet on the pavement. As I rounded the corner, my eyes widened at the scene unfolding before me.

Five teenagers were huddled around Russell, who was clearly in distress. His long, thinning hair was disheveled, and his wiry frame seemed even more fragile as he struggled against his captors. His hands, still with the yellow rubber gloves fitting snug around them, were bound tightly by a band of shiny duct tape, the silver material gleaming in the dim light. One of the teenagers, a tall boy with a scruffy appearance, had his leather-gloved hand clamped firmly over Russell’s mouth, stifling any attempt to call for help. Russell’s eyes were wide with fear, and he let out a muffled whimper beneath the palm of the hand pressed firmly to his lips.

To be continued…

[Rasle]

Really love this! Playful banter between captor and captive.

Hopefully Eleanor the intern gets inspired and sneakily follows you outside.

[Boundngagged75]

Really love this! Playful banter between captor and captive.

Hopefully Eleanor the intern gets inspired and sneakily follows you outside.

Thank you so much!
It’s been enjoyable to write, thus far. So I’m happy you’ve enjoyed reading it.
Don’t worry, there’s a lot more to come… and more to come with Eleanor the intern

[Boundngagged75]

Part 4:
The group was composed of four boys and one girl. The boys were all dressed in various shades of dark, worn clothing—hoodies, ripped jeans, and scuffed sneakers. They had an air of defiance about them, their expressions ranging from cold indifference to cruel amusement as they kept Russell restrained and quiet. The one holding Russell’s mouth was the tallest, a boy named Tony, with a shock of messy brown hair and a smirk that suggested he was enjoying the power he held over the older man.

Another boy, Curtis, shorter and stockier with a buzz cut, stood nearby with his arms crossed, watching the scene with a bored expression. His face was round and freckled, but there was a hardness in his eyes that made him seem older than he was. Next to him, Jack, a lanky kid with a mop of dirty-blond hair kept glancing around nervously, as if expecting to be caught at any moment. The fourth boy, Luke, who had a wiry build and a sharp, angular face, was fiddling with a piece of duct tape in his hands, his eyes fixed on Russell with an unsettling intensity.

The girl, Sonia, stood slightly apart from the boys, her presence commanding despite her small stature. She had jet-black hair that fell in sharp angles around her pale face, contrasting with her dark eyeliner and black leather jacket. Her eyes, framed by heavy lashes, were sharp and calculating, watching me carefully as I approached. Unlike the others, there was a quiet authority about her, as if she was the one who was really in charge of the situation.

Sonia noticed me first, her gaze locking onto mine with a mix of defiance and curiosity. The other boys turned to follow her line of sight, their expressions shifting from amusement to something more guarded as they realized they’d been caught.

Tony tightened his grip on Russell’s mouth, and I saw Russell’s eyes widen further, his muffled protests growing more frantic. The tension in the air was palpable as I took in the scene, the gravity of the situation settling heavily in my chest.

I stepped closer, my voice steady despite the unease gnawing at my gut. "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, trying to keep my tone authoritative without escalating the situation.

Tony, still clamping his hand over Russell’s mouth, sneered at me. "We thought the old janitor might have some cash on him," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "But it turns out, he’s just as broke as he looks." His eyes raked over me, and a cold grin spreads across his face. "But you… you look like you might have a lot more."

My heart raced as the implications of his words sunk in. "There’s no money here," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and measured. "This is just a TV studio. We don’t keep cash lying around."

But my words seemed to have the opposite effect. The boys exchanged quick, excited glances, and I could practically see the gears turning in their heads. The idea of being in a television studio sparked something in them—a thrill, a new angle to exploit.

Luke spotted a broken handle from Russell’s mop lying nearby. He picked it up with a twisted grin, brandishing it like a weapon. "Guess that means we’ve got hostages now," he said, waving the splintered wood in the air.



Russell whimpered beneath Tony’s hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes darting frantically between me and the teenagers. Before I could say anything more, Sonia stepped forward with a slow, deliberate movement. Her dark eyes locked onto mine, filled with a calm, calculated menace that the others lack. From her pocket, she pulled out a roll of duct tape, the same kind binding Russell’s hands.

Sonia tore off a long strip of tape, the sound slicing through the tense silence. Without a word, she stepped in front of Russell, who tried to shake his head in protest, but Sonia was unfazed. She grabbed his chin with surprising force, tilting his head back slightly before wrapping the duct tape around his mouth in tight, even layers, sealing his muffled cries beneath the thick silver band. Russell’s eyes closed in resignation as she smooths the tape down with a final, firm press. “Mmm.. Mmmpph!” was all he could manage, his whimpers muffled by the tape wrapped around his head.

Her task done, Sonia turned her attention to me. “Looks like we’re going to have to keep you quiet too," she said , her voice eerily calm. She tore off another strip of tape, her movements precise and methodical.

The other boys watched with a mix of excitement and nervous energy, their earlier bravado shifting into something more dangerous now that Sonia was taking charge. My mind raced, trying to find a way out, but the cold reality of the situation is quickly closing in. Sonia stepped closer, the tape ready in her hand, her expression unreadable as she prepared to silence me as well.


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 5:
Back in the studio, the lighthearted atmosphere continues as Lana played up her role as the "new host," clearly relishing the chance to be in charge. She turned her attention back to Mr. Katz, who was still bound and gagged on the sofa, his eyes following her every move with a mix of mock exasperation and amusement.

"Mr. Katz," Lana began, adopting a tone of exaggerated concern, "you’ve been awfully quiet over there. Are you sure you don’t want me to take off that gag?" She tilted her head and leaned closer, watching him with a mischievous grin.

Mr. Katz immediately started grunting into the gag, his eyes wide with hopeful enthusiasm. "Mmmph! Mmmph!" His tone was pleading, but Lana, pretended to misunderstand, tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm, what was that?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Did you say you want me to leave it on? Well, if you insist..."

Mr. Katz shook his head vigorously, his muffled protests growing more frantic. "Mmmph! Mmmmph!" His frustration was clear, though there was a playful edge to it, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make himself understood.

Lana suppressed a laugh, pretending to consider his muffled pleas. "Oh, you’re sure you don’t want it off?" she said, acting as if she was genuinely puzzled. "I mean, you’re so much quieter like this. It’s almost... peaceful."

“Mmmpph!! Mmmpphhh!!” Mr. Katz’s muffled groans grew louder, and he started wiggling in his seat, his eyebrows knitting together in exaggerated irritation. He was fully committed to the bit, playing up his role as the helpless, gagged host for maximum comedic effect.



In the control room, Tom and Eleanor were beside themselves with laughter, their eyes glued to the monitors. Tom wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, his face red with mirth. "This is gold," he chortled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I’ve never seen anything like it!"

Eleanor was laughing so hard she had nearly doubled over, clutching her sides. "I can’t breathe," she gasped, her voice shaky with giggles. "Lana’s killing it! And Mr. Katz—he’s really playing along!" She’s going to keep him there bound and gagged all night!”

But their laughter died abruptly as the door to the control room burst open, and the surreal comedy of the broadcast was shattered by a harsh reality. The teenage assailants, their expressions dark and serious, marched into the control room with Russell and I in tow, both of us gagged with duct tape. Russell’s eyes were wide with fear, and he stumbled slightly as Tony shoves him forward. My own steps were forced and unsteady as Sonia, still holding the roll of tape, directed me into the control room.

Tom and Eleanor froze, their laughter replaced by shock and horror as they took in the scene. The monitors flickered with the unexpected intrusion, the live feed now capturing the moment the bizarre, playful skit transformed into a tense, unsettling standoff. The teenagers’ rough appearance and the unmistakable fear in our eyes told them all they needed to know—this is no joke.

Lana, who had been grinning just a moment before, saw the change in the crew’s expressions and turned to see the newcomers. Her smile faded instantly, replaced by confusion and then dawning fear as the situation became clear. Mr. Katz’s muffled protests suddenly took on a new urgency, but this time there was nothing playful about them. The lighthearted atmosphere of the studio evaporated in an instant, replaced by a sense of dread as the reality of the situation crashed down on everyone present.

As the five teenagers survey their surroundings, the tension in the studio was palpable. Two of the boys—Curtis and Jack—along with Sonia, remained in the control room with Russell and I. The other two boys, Tony and Luke, made their way out onto the set, their eyes scanning the unfamiliar equipment and cameras.

Inside the studio, Mr. Katz watched the boys approach, his bound hands fidgeting in his lap. His eyes darted from the teenagers to Lana, who stood frozen by the desk, unsure of how to react. As Tony reached for one of the cameras, Mr. Katz took a deep breath and suddenly reached up, tugging at the gag with his bound hands. With some effort, he managed to slip it down from his mouth, his voice bursting out in a mix of authority and frustration.

"What the hell is going on here?" Mr. Katz demanded, his voice firm despite the earlier playful tone.

But before he could say anything more, Luke, who had wandered onto the set reacted swiftly, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. He strode over to Mr. Katz and, without hesitation, pulled the gag back into his mouth, pulling it in between his lips even tighter than before. Mr. Katz grunted in protest, his eyes blazing with indignation, but the boy just smirked, seeming pleased with himself as he tightened the gag securely in Mr. Katz’s mouth, giving it a playful tug to ensure it was snug.


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 6:
Meanwhile, in the control room, I tried to make my voice heard, my muffled attempts to communicate barely reaching above the background noise. "Mmmph! Mmmph!" I struggled to articulate something, anything, that might diffuse the situation, but the tape over my mouth reduced my words to incomprehensible sounds. “Mmmpph! Mmmpphh!” I continued.

Sonia, who had been keeping a close eye on me, grew visibly annoyed by my persistent muffled protests. She narrowed her eyes, her patience clearly wearing thin. "You had better not try anything," she said sharply, stepping forward with an air of authority. With a quick motion, she pinched the corner of the tape plastered over my lips and ripped it away from my mouth, the adhesive pulling at my skin painfully.

I gasped as the air hit my lips, relieved to finally be able to speak. Without missing a beat, I blurted out the crucial piece of information that I hoped would make them rethink their actions. "We’re on the air," I say urgently, my voice hoarse from being gagged. "This is a live broadcast. Everything you’re doing is being filmed and broadcast right now."

A stunned silence fell over the control room as my words sunk in. Sonia’s eyes widened slightly, the gravity of the situation beginning to register. The boys in the control room exchanged uncertain glances, the bravado from earlier slipping away as they realized the full implications of what they had done.




On the set, the boys who had been wandering around suddenly stopped in their tracks, turning to look directly into the camera lenses as the reality hit them too. Mr. Katz’s muffled protests from behind his tightened gag grew more urgent, his eyes shifting between the teenagers and the cameras.

Lana, who had been silently watching the situation unfold, finally spoke up, her voice shaky but clear. "You’re being broadcast live to the entire audience," she said, hoping to appeal to their fear of being caught. "You need to stop this now before it gets any worse."

Sonia’s expression hardened, the wheels in her mind clearly turning as she tried to decide what to do next. The control room, once filled with laughter and lighthearted energy, was now a tense standoff, every second feeling like an eternity as everyone waited to see what the teenagers would do.

Under Sonia’s watchful eye, I moved slowly, my heart pounding as I followed her orders. Tom sat stiffly in a chair, his hands already bound tightly behind his back with a length of cable I found in the control room. His face was pale, his usual jovial expression replaced with one of fear and disbelief.

"Sorry, Tom," I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if he could hear me or if it even matters at this point. With a steady hand, I take a red bandana and, with a glance at Sonia for approval, pulled it into Tom’s mouth. His lips parted in a grimace as I secured the gag, the fabric muffling any sounds he might try to make. He stared at me, eyes wide and pleading, but all I could do was tie the knot firmly at the back of his head.

Meanwhile, Sonia turned her attention to Eleanor, who sat trembling in her chair, her youthful face pale with fear. Sonia moved with the same cold precision as before, looping a coil of rope around Eleanor’s wrists, pulling them snugly together, and binding them together with a practiced efficiency. Eleanor bit her lip, her breath shaky as she watched Sonia work.

Sonia reached into her pocket and pulled out the roll of duct tape, followed by the unmistakable sound of a long strip being stretched off the roll. She tore off a piece and, with her fingertips, smoothed it down over Eleanor’s mouth, silencing her whimpers before they could fully form. Eleanor’s eyes fill with tears, but she didn’t dare move, too terrified to resist.

As I finished tying up Tom, I glanced over at Russell. The two boys who stayed behind in the control room kept a tight grip on him, his gaunt frame still struggling weakly against their hold. His eyes, wide and fearful, flickered between the teenagers and me, silently pleading for help that I was in no position to give.




Out on the set, the two boys who had wandered off earlier were now circling Mr. Katz like predators sizing up their prey. Mr. Katz, still bound and gagged on the sofa, struggled against his restraints with his hands now bound behind his back, his muffled protests filling the tense air. The boys ignored his attempts to communicate, their focus solely on the moment they were savoring.

Lana stood nearby, her earlier bravado gone, replaced by a palpable sense of fear. She was petrified, her hands shaking as she watched the boys circle Mr. Katz. "What do you want?" she finally managed to ask, her voice trembling as she tried to find a way to diffuse the situation.

Luke paused and looked directly at Lana, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "I just want my 15 minutes of fame," he said, his tone dripping with a dark satisfaction.

Tony chimed in, his voice carrying a mocking edge. "Yeah, and to be a TV star," he added, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he stared into the camera lens, fully aware of the live broadcast.
Mr. Katz struggled harder, his muffled grunts growing more desperate as he tried to alert Lana to the danger. “Mmmm.. Mmmpph!” He groaned. But the boys merely laughed, their attention focused entirely on the cameras and the thrill of being in control. Lana, still rooted in place by fear, glanced between the boys and the cameras, realizing that their motivations were far more reckless and dangerous than she first imagined.

The studio, once filled with playful banter and controlled chaos, now felt like a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment. Every word, every movement was charged with tension as the teenagers reveled in their newfound power, the gravity of their actions lost in the adrenaline of the moment.

The two boys on set exchanged a quick glance before turning their attention to the camera. Tony grinned widely, his earlier menace momentarily replaced by a playful smirk. "Don’t worry, folks," he said, his voice dripping with false cheer, "this is all part of the show!"

Luke nodded in agreement, his grin just as unsettling. "Yeah, just a little fun for the viewers at home," he added, clearly enjoying the power of addressing the audience. Then they both turned to Lana, who was still frozen in fear. Tony’s smile faded slightly, replaced with a more serious expression. "Isn’t that right?" he prompted, his tone more demanding now.

Lana hesitated, her eyes darting between the boys and the camera. She knew she has no choice, but the reluctance was clear on her face. "Y-yes," she stammered, trying to muster some semblance of composure. "Just… just part of the show."

The boys exchanged satisfied nods, seemingly pleased with themselves for maintaining the charade. But their moment of triumph was short-lived. The control room door swung open, and Sonia entered the studio set with the remaining two boys, me, and the others in tow.


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 7:
I walked out with a grim expression, Russell stumbling along beside me, his hands still bound and his mouth tightly gagged with duct tape. Tom and Eleanor were in a similar state, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear as they were marched out of the control room and onto the set. Sonia directed the group towards the sofa, where Mr. Katz was already bound and gagged. With rough shoves, the teenagers forced Russell, Tom, and Eleanor onto the sofa beside him, their bodies crowded together in a pitiful line of restrained captives.

Sonia, her earlier calm beginning to crack, turned to Tony with an icy glare. "Enough of this," she snapped, her voice laced with frustration. "We’re not here to play TV host. We’re here to get the money and get out. Stop wasting time!"

Tony, his playful demeanor quickly fading, sneered at her. "Relax,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We’ve got this under control. No harm in having a little fun while we’re at it."

But Sonia wasn’t having it. She stepped closer, her eyes flashing with anger. "This isn’t a game!" she hissed, her voice low but intense. "You want to be a star? Fine. But we’re here to steal, not to play around on camera. Focus, or we’re all going to end up in a lot of trouble."

The tension between them was palpable, the dynamic of the group beginning to fray as the reality of their situation started to sink in. Tony glared back at her, clearly unhappy with being challenged, but he didn’t push it further. Instead, he clenched his fists, visibly trying to rein in his frustration.

Lana watched the argument unfold, her heart pounding in her chest. Her gaze shifted to the captives on the sofa, then back to the camera, realizing just how close they were to everything spiraling completely out of control. Mr. Katz, still gagged, struggled futilely against his bindings, his muffled protests growing more desperate as the danger around them escalated.

The once lively and chaotic studio was now a stage for a tense standoff, the stakes higher than any of them had anticipated. The teenagers were no longer just playing a part—they were teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous, their fleeting moment of power threatening to unravel into real and irreversible consequences.

Sonia’s patience had worn thin, and with a decisive look, she snatched the roll of duct tape from her pocket, her movements quick and purposeful. Lana, sensing what was about to happen, tried to back away, her eyes wide with fear, but there was nowhere for her to go. Tony, still relishing the chaos, smirked as he watched Sonia approach the trembling assistant.

Without a word, Sonia grabbed Lana by the arm, forcing her to turn around. Lana let out a small whimper, but it was quickly silenced as Sonia stretching out the sticky tape over her mouth, wrapping it tightly around her head several times until Lana’s protests were nothing more than muffled cries. The tape pulled at Lana’s skin, and she winced as Sonia tugged it even tighter, ensuring that there was no way for her to remove it on her own.

“Mmm… Mmppph..” was all Lana could manage under the layers of sticky duct tape that stung her lips.

Sonia wasn’t finished. With cold efficiency, she yanked Lana’s arms behind her back and began to wrap the tape around her wrists, binding them securely. The roughness of Sonia’s actions left Lana trembling, her body tense with fear. Once she was certain that Lana was fully restrained, Sonia stepped back, giving Tony a nod.

Tony stepped forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Looks like I’m the host now!” he announced with mock enthusiasm, his voice filled with dark amusement. He glanced at the cameras, clearly enjoying the twisted power he’s taken over the broadcast.

Sonia, not interested in Tony’s theatrics, hauled Lana over to the sofa where Mr. Katz, Russell, Tom, and Eleanor were already bound and gagged. She roughly pushed Lana down beside them, her movements devoid of any of the earlier playfulness. Lana’s eyes were wide with fear, her muffled whimpers lost beneath the layers of tape as she tried to process the nightmare unfolding around her.

Desperate to stop the madness, I stepped forward, my voice shaking with emotion. “Please,” I begged, my eyes darting between the captors, “just let everyone go. This has gone too far!”

Before I could say anything more, one of the boys, Jack, stepped forward and clamped a hand tightly over my mouth, silencing me mid-plea. The pressure of his palm pressed against my lips stifled my words, and I felt the weight of his hand as he pushed me back slightly, his grip firm and unyielding.

Sonia, her patience at its breaking point, shot me a cold, warning look. “Quiet,” she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding. “Unless you want to be gagged too.” The threat was clear in her tone, and I couldn’t feel my heart sink as the realization set in that there was little I could do to stop them.

Jack didn’t let go immediately, keeping his hand firmly over my mouth as if to make sure I had gotten the message. The room was thick with tension, the earlier chaotic energy now replaced by a more sinister atmosphere as the teenagers tightened their control over the situation.

On the sofa, the captives—now including Lana—sat bound and gagged, their muffled protests and fearful eyes the only signs of resistance. Mr. Katz’s eyes flickered with a mixture of anger and helplessness as he watched the scene play out, his struggles growing weaker with each passing moment. Tony, still grinning, stepped in front of the camera, ready to take over the show, while Sonia kept a wary eye on everyone, determined to see their plan through.

The studio, once a place of lighthearted skits and controlled chaos, was now the stage for a darker, more dangerous performance, with the captors firmly in control and the crew at their mercy.

Sonia’s patience had run out, and with a sharp gesture, she grabbed me by the arm, her grip firm as she pulled me along with her. “You’re coming with us,” she snapped, dragging me away from the set and into the dimly lit corridors of the studio. Jack and Curtis followed closely, their eyes gleaming with anticipation as they scoured the building for anything valuable.



They moved quickly, rifling through desks, prying open drawers, and tossing aside anything that didn’t look like it was worth taking. Every so often, Sonia shot me a cold glance, as if daring me to make a move or speak up, but my concern for the others’ safety kept me compliant. Despite their frantic search, it quickly became clear that the studio didn’t have much to offer in terms of money or valuables. Frustration began to set in among the group as each room they searched came up empty.

Sonia’s face hardened with disappointment, and the boys’ excitement started to wane. The tension between them built, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me as they realized their heist was turning out to be a failure. After what felt like an eternity of pointless searching, Sonia finally called it off, her voice laced with irritation. “This place is a bust,” she said through gritted teeth, yanking me back towards the set. “Let’s go.”


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 8:
Tony, now fully embracing his self-appointed role as the host, took a seat behind the desk, a twisted grin plastered across his face. He adjusted the microphone in front of him, playing up the role with exaggerated gestures as if he’d been doing this for years. The camera was still rolling, capturing every moment of his cruel performance.

With a mock-serious tone, he leaned forward and addressed the captives on the couch, starting with Mr. Katz. "Well, well, well," he began, his voice dripping with faux professionalism, "our first guest tonight is none other than Mr. Katz, the famous TV host himself! Mr. Katz, it’s such an honor to have you here on my show." He paused for effect, looking directly at Mr. Katz, whose eyes are filled with a mix of anger and frustration as he struggled against his bonds.

Tony waited, pretending to listen for a response, though he knew full well that Mr. Katz couldn’t say a word with the gag securely in place. "Oh, what’s that? Nothing to say? Come on, Mr. Katz, I’m sure our audience is dying to hear your thoughts." He tapped his fingers on the desk, feigning impatience, then shrugged dramatically. "Ah, must be shy tonight. No worries, let’s move on."

He turned his attention to Russell, the janitor, who sat awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, his hands bound with duct tape, his mouth still gagged. "Next up, we have the janitor! Now, Mr. Janitor, you’ve been with this studio for a while, right? Keeping things nice and clean? Tell me, what’s the most interesting thing you’ve found while cleaning up around here?"

Russell’s eyes widened, his body tensed as he tried to respond, but the gag renders any attempt useless. “Mmm.. Mmmpph.. Mmmpphh.” His muffled grunts were the only answer, and Tony chuckled, shaking his head as if disappointed. "Nothing? Really? Come on, Mr. Janitor, you must have some juicy secrets. No? Well, that’s okay, maybe next time."

Tony then shifted his gaze to Tom, whose face is flushed with fear and embarrassment. "And now we have-“ he paused to look at the list of crew transcribed on the script, and continued , “Tom, the man who’s been making everything run smoothly behind the scenes. Tell me, Tom, what’s it like working in the control room? Do you ever wish you were in front of the camera instead?"

“Mmmph! Mmmpphh!” Tom, pressing his lips together over the bandana tied snug in his mouth, attempted to make some kind of sound, but it came out as a muffled grunts and whimpers. Tony leaned back in his chair, feigning a thoughtful expression. "Hmm, interesting, interesting. You know, I always thought the control room guys had a lot more to say. Guess I was wrong."

Tony turns his attention to Eleanor, whose tear-streaked face reflected the terror she was feeling. "Then, we have Eleanor, the newest addition to our team! Eleanor, what’s it like being the intern? I bet you’ve learned a lot in your short time here, huh?"

“Mmm! Mmmpph!” Eleanor, her lips stinging under layers of duct tape, tried to plead with her captor, but all she could manage were muffled whimpers and cries. Tony chuckled, tilting his head as if considering her response. "Ah, I see, still getting the hang of things. Don’t worry, Eleanor, you’ll get there eventually. Maybe one day you’ll be sitting behind this desk instead of me. Or, you know, maybe not."

Throughout the mock interview, Tony’s tone was one of malicious glee, clearly enjoying the fact that he was in control while the captives were powerless to respond. He leaned back in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head as he surveys the gagged and bound group on the sofa. The cruel mockery continued as he addresses them collectively.

Tony’s eyes gleamed with mischievous delight as he shifted his gaze to Lana, who sat at the end of the sofa, her face flushed with fear and humiliation. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back, and the layers of tape wrapped around her mouth make it impossible for her to do anything but watch in silent horror as Tony’s cruel charade continues.

"Ah, last but certainly not least we have Lana… and how could I forget our very own Lana!" the boy exclaimed, leaning forward as if addressing a long-lost friend. "Lana, you were just about to take over as the new host, weren’t you? What a big promotion that would have been! Tell me, how does it feel to have the spotlight stolen from you?"

He waited, his expression a mockery of concern, knowing full well that Lana couldn’t answer. Lana’s eyes narrowed, a spark of defiance flaring up even as she remained gagged. “Mmm… Mmmph.. Mmm.. Mmmpph!” She tried to speak, her voice coming out as a series of muffled sounds, her frustration clear in every desperate attempt to make herself heard.

Tony raisedan eyebrow, pretending to decipher her muffled response. "Oh, come on, Lana," he said, leaning back with a smirk, "don’t be shy. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say about this little situation. What’s that? Didn’t quite catch that, sorry."

“Mmmpph! Mmm! Mmmpphh!” Lana’s muffled protests grew more insistent, her eyes blazing with anger, but the tape ensured that her words remain incomprehensible. Tony chuckled, clearly entertained by her futile attempts. "You know, Lana, it seems like you’re not as talkative as you used to be. Maybe you’re just not cut out for hosting after all. What a shame."

With that, he turned his attention back to the camera, leaving Lana fuming silently behind her gag, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear, frustration, and helplessness. The cruel game continued, Tony basking in the power he held over the bound and gagged captives, all while they could do nothing but sit there, silenced and unable to fight back.

"Well, folks, there you have it—our esteemed guests for the evening. Not the most talkative bunch, but hey, that’s what makes this show unique, right? Silent, but… well, not quite deadly." He laughed at his own joke, the sound echoing through the tense studio, while the captives could do nothing but sit there, bound and gagged, forced to endure the twisted parody of an interview.


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 9:
Sonia, Jack, Curtis and I returned to the studio, where Tony was still behind the desk, finishing up his mock interview with the bound and gagged captives. His smile was wide, his eyes glinting with the thrill of his twisted game. As Sonia, the boys and I re-entered the room, I noticed the captives’ eyes flickered with a mix of fear and confusion, their muffled pleas barely audible beneath their gags.

Sonia didn’t waste any time. “It’s time to leave,” she declared, her tone brooking no argument. She shot the Tony a stern look, expecting him to comply. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”

But Tony, caught up in his own enjoyment, didn’t seem ready to leave just yet. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Why rush?” he said, his voice dripping with casual defiance. “We’re just getting to the good part. Let’s stay a bit longer and have some more fun.”

Sonia’s eyes narrowed, her frustration clearly visible. “We’re not here to play games,” she snapped, her voice icy. “We’re now leaving empty-handed, and we’re certainly not risking getting caught just because you want to mess around.”

But Tony remained unfazed. He glanced at the camera, then back at the bound captives, his grin never wavering. “Relax, Sonia. The cops aren’t coming. No one even knows we’re here. Besides,” he added with a shrug, “what’s the harm in sticking around a little longer? These folks aren’t going anywhere.”

The other boys seemed torn, glancing between Sonia and Tony, unsure of who to follow. The tension in the room was palpable, and I stood there, caught in the middle, feeling the fear gnawing at my insides as the situation teetered on the brink of spiraling out of control. The captives on the sofa watched the exchange with wide, terrified eyes, their muffled pleas growing more urgent as the standoff between Sonia and Tony continued.

Sonia’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like she might argue further. But then she released her grip on my arm, clearly calculating her next move. “Fine,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “But if this goes wrong, it’s on you.”

Tony just laughed, clearly reveling in his defiance. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. We’ve got all the time in the world.” With that, he turned back to the camera, ready to continue his twisted game, while the tension in the room hung heavy, the uncertainty of what might happen next weighing on everyone present.

Tony, still riding the high of his impromptu takeover, suddenly turned to Sonia with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know what would be fun?" he said, leaning forward on the desk. "I should interview you next, Sonia. I bet the audience would love to hear what makes our fearless leader tick."

Sonia’s expression darkened immediately. Her eyes flashed with anger as she whirled on him, her voice sharp and full of fury. "Are you out of your mind?" she snapped. "You just used my name on live television!" Her words cut through the air, the implication of his slip-up hanging heavily between them.

Tony’s grin faltered slightly, but he quickly shrugged it off, not seeming to grasp the seriousness of what he had done. "Relax, it’s just a name," he said, trying to downplay it. "Nobody’s gonna care."

But Sonia wasn’t having it. She was already on edge, and the idea that her identity could be exposed sent her over the brink. Her fists clenched at her sides, and she looked like she’s about to explode when I, still trying to de-escalate the situation, spoke up.

"You’re in over your head, Sonia," I said, my voice low but urgent, trying to reason with her. "This isn’t going to end well. You need to get out of here before it’s too late."

My words seemed to hit a nerve. Sonia’s face contorted with anger, and before I could react, she strode over to me and clamped her hand over my mouth, silencing me in an instant. Her grip was firm, her eyes blazing with fury as she stared me down. "I told you to be quiet," she hissed, her voice barely more than a growl.

Without breaking eye contact, she snapped her fingers at one of the boys. "Give me the duct tape," she demanded, her tone cold and commanding. Curtis, sensing her anger, quickly handed over the roll of tape.

Sonia wasted no time. She ripped off a length of tape and, with swift, practiced movements, began wrapping it tightly around my mouth. The tape pulled at my skin, sealing my lips shut with a harsh finality that sent a chill down my spine. “Mmmphh!” I tried my best to protest, but my words were completely muffled beneath the layers of tape.

"That should shut you up," Sonia muttered, her voice dripping with contempt as she stepped back to survey her work. She was clearly on edge, her earlier confidence shaken by the realization that their plan was spiraling out of control. The tension in the room thickened as I stood there, silenced and helpless, my warning unheeded.

Tony, meanwhile, looked between Sonia and I, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. But the moment passed quickly, and he regained his bravado, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile. "Fine, no interview," he said, his tone dismissive. "But you’ve got to admit, this is one hell of a show."

Sonia, however, wasn’t in the mood for banter anymore. She was too busy trying to regain control of the situation, her mind racing with the implications of what just happened. As Tony returned his attention to the camera, Sonia’s eyes darted around the room, clearly calculating their next move, the gravity of their predicament weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Tension crackled in the air as Sonia’s frustration with the situation reached its breaking point. Tony’s careless attitude, his disregard for the seriousness of their predicament, and his earlier use of her name on live television have frayed her nerves to the limit.

“Enough of this,” Sonia snapped, her voice cold and edged with fury. “We’re leaving now. This isn’t a game.”

Tony rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “Oh, come on, Sonia,” he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. “Why the rush? We’ve got these idiots tied up and gagged. We’re not going to get caught.”

“Stop using my name!” Sonia hissed, stepping closer to the desk, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re putting all of us at risk. We’re not staying here for your amusement!”

Tony’s expression darkened, his casual demeanor dropping as he sat up straighter, locking eyes with her. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m in charge here. Not you.”

Sonia’s eyes narrowed, her anger flaring. “You’re in charge?” she scoffed, taking another step closer. “You’re going to get us all caught! We need to leave—now!”

The tension between them snapped as Tony suddenly stood, his height towering over Sonia. “We’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he growled, his temper flaring. “I’m not letting some stupid girl boss me around!”

The argument escalated, voices rising as they shouted at each other. The other boys glanced nervously between them, unsure of what to do. But when Sonia shoved Tony in frustration, the situation turns physical. Tony shoved her back, harder, sending her stumbling.

In an instant, the other boys were on Sonia, pulling her away from Tony and forcing her into the chair behind the desk. She struggled against them, but they were too strong, their grips too tight. “You bastards! she snarled, thrashing in their hold, but they ignored her protests, roughly pushing her into the chair.

“Let go of me!” Sonia screamed, trying to twist out of their grip, but her protests fell on deaf ears. Luke grabbed a roll of duct tape, and with quick, practiced movements, the boys began wrapping it around her, securing her to the chair behind the desk.

They started by taping her wrists to the arms of the chair, winding the tape tightly around her skin and the chair’s wooden frame. The tape stuck firmly, trapping her hands in place. Sonia thrashed, trying to break free, but the tape held fast. Jack stepped in, wrapping more duct tape around her torso, pinning her back against the chair. He circled the tape around her several times, each layer adding to the restraint, until she was completely immobilized.

Sonia’s fury only grew, her struggles more frantic as she realized what was happening. “You bastards!” she spat, glaring at them. “I’ll kill you for this!”

Tony stood over her, his face set in a hard, contemptuous expression. “You don’t have what it takes to be the leader, Sonia,” he said coldly. “You’re too soft, too scared. You’re the one who’s in over your head.”

Curtis stepped forward with the roll of duct tape, stretching a piece off the roll. Sonia’s eyes widened in anger and fear, and she jerked her head to the side, trying to avoid the inevitable. “Don’t you dare gag me!” she yelled, her voice trembling with rage.

But her command went unheeded. The boy grabbed her chin, forcing her to face forward, and in one swift motion, he pressed the tape firmly over her mouth, sealing her protests into a series of muffled grunts and furious, unintelligible sounds. Her eyes blazed with helpless rage as she glares up at them, her voice silenced as they made several passes around her head with the tape, effectively sealing her lips.

“Mmmpph! Mmmpphh!” Her cheeks bulged underneath the tape, defiance in her eyes.

Tony smirked, satisfied with their work. “There, that’s better,” he said, his tone mocking. He looks at the other boys and nods toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here. Leave her to cool off.”

The boys exchanged uneasy glances but ultimately followed his lead, leaving Sonia bound and gagged in the chair behind the desk. As they walk away, her muffled shouts echo through the now-silent studio, the camera still recording every moment of her defeat.

“Mmm.. Mmmpphh!” She moaned, muffled but defiantly.


To be continued…

[Boundngagged75]

Part 10:
The studio was filled with the sounds of muffled grunts and the faint creaking of tape as me and the others struggled against our restraints. Bound on the couch, each of us took turns trying to communicate through our gags, but the layers of duct tape over our mouths made it impossible to do more than make muffled noises. Time dragged on, the frustration and helplessness mounting with every passing minute. The only thing we could do was exchange desperate, anxious glances, hoping that someone would eventually come to our aid.

An hour passed in this tense, agonizing silence. Just as despair began to set in, we heard the faint creak of the studio door opening. The sound was so subtle that at first, it seemed like it could be just my imagination. But then, I heard footsteps—steady, purposeful, and growing closer.

Juana, the night cleaning lady, entered the studio, clad in her usual yellow rubber gloves, pushing her cleaning cart in front of her. Her mind was on her usual routine, but when she stepped into the room, her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her. The scene was something out of a nightmare: the host, guests, and studio staff all bound and gagged, struggling helplessly against their restraints.

She gasped, quickly rushing to me first, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to pinch the corner of the tape plastered over my mouth, and began to peel it away from my lips. The tape pulled at my skin as she removed it, and I took a deep, relieved breath as my lips were finally freed.

“Thank you,” I gasped, my voice hoarse from trying to speak through the gag. “They… they left us like this. Please help the others.”

Juana nodded quickly, moving down the line, carefully removing the gags from Mr. Katz, Russell, Tom, and Eleanor. As she worked, her brow furrowed with concern, but she remained focused, methodically freeing each of us from the restraints on our mouths. “How did you end up here, tied up and gagged?”

When the last gag was removed, Juana straightened up and looked around the room. That's when her gaze landed on the desk, where Sonia was still bound and gagged, the tape holding her tightly to the chair. Juana’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she took in the sight of the girl. There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes—a look of shock and disbelief.

“Sonia?” Juana whispered, her voice trembling. She stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat as she realized who she was looking at. “Sonia, is that really you?”

Sonia’s eyes, which had been blazing with fury and frustration, suddenly softened, filling with a mixture of fear and surprise. “Mmmpphh…” She made a muffled whimper behind her gag, her eyes widening as she recognized Juana.

Juana’s hands shook as she reached out to Sonia, pinching the corner of the tape wrapped around her mouth and gently peeling away the tape that sealed her daughter’s lips. The tape came off slowly, and as soon as it was removed, Sonia gasped for air, her chest heaving with the effort. “Mom?” she croaked, her voice raw from the gag.

Juana’s eyes fill with tears as she dropped to her knees beside the chair, cupping Sonia’s face in her rubber gloved hands. “Mi hija,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “What happened? What are you doing here?”

Sonia didn’t answer immediately, too overwhelmed by the sudden reunion. Juana’s hands trembled as she began to work at the tape binding Sonia to the chair, her fingers fumbling slightly as she tried to free her daughter. Despite the situation, the tenderness in her actions was clear—her love for her daughter shining through in every movement.

As Juana pulled the last of the tape away, Sonia collapsed forward into her mother’s arms, the weight of the situation crashing down on both of them. Juana held her tightly, rocking her gently as if trying to soothe away all the pain and fear that had driven Sonia to this point.

The rest of us watched in silence, the chaos of the night momentarily forgotten in the face of this unexpected, emotional reunion.


Weeks had passed since the chaotic night that turned the studio upside down. The crew had settled back into a routine, though the memories of that night linger in the air, adding a strange undercurrent to their usual banter.

In the studio, the lights shined brightly on the set where Mr. Katz was standing by the desk, his usual mischievous grin in place. On the couch, Lana was bound with ropes, her hands tied securely behind her back, her ankles crossed and bound as well. A thick, knotted cloth was tied around her mouth, muffling any attempts she might make to speak. Her eyes were wide, reflecting a mix of playful resignation and slight annoyance as she wiggled in her bonds, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in case you’re wondering why are beautiful Lana is all bound and gagged, let me remind you of her antics from our last episode when she held me captive, tied me up, gagged me, and tried to take over my show.” Mr. Katz chuckled, leaning over the desk to get a better look at Lana. “Well, well, well, Lana,” he said, his voice filled with mock sympathy. “How does it feel to be the one who can’t talk for a change? Last week, you had so much to say when you took me hostage. But now?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Now, all I hear are muffled little sounds. It’s almost peaceful.”

Lana glared at him, her cheeks puffing out slightly as she tries to speak, but all that escapes is a frustrated, unintelligible noise. Mr. Katz laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “What’s that, Lana? Trying to say something?” He leaned in closer, cupping his hand behind his ear as if to hear her better. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. You’ll have to speak up!”

Lana tugged at the ropes binding her hands, her body tensing in irritation, but the knots were secure, holding her firmly in place. Her muffled protests only seemed to amuse Mr. Katz further. “I think I like Lana bound and gagged!”

“Mmmpph! Mmmpphh!” She protested into her gag, feigning annoyance.

“Ah, it’s just too bad, isn’t it?” Mr. Katz continued, his tone playful. “All that wit, all those clever comebacks, but now…” He gave a theatrical sigh. “Now, all we get are these adorable little grunts and groans. Who knew silence could be so… satisfying?”

Meanwhile, in the control room, I sat with Tom and Eleanor, the three of us watching the scene unfold on the monitors. The atmosphere was light, filled with the hum of the equipment and the occasional chuckle from Tom, who seemed to be enjoying the segment. Eleanor, too, is smiling, clearly amused by the reversal of roles on the set.

I glanced over at Sonia, the newest intern, who stood off to the side, her eyes fixed on the screen. Her expression was neutral, but there was a tension in her posture—a lingering shadow from the night she and her friends had turned the studio upside down. Despite everything, she had returned, eager to start fresh, and I couldn’t help but admire her resolve, even as I wondered what thoughts are running through her mind as she watched the scene play out.

The playful banter on set continued, Mr. Katz reveling in his chance to turn the tables on Lana. But in the control room, the mood was quieter, more reflective, as the others and I watched, each of us lost in our own thoughts.


The End

[Roboticrobin20]

Another awesome read. I'm having a blast going through your stories

[Boundngagged75]

Another awesome read. I'm having a blast going through your stories

@Roboticrobin20 Thank you so much! Definitely more to come. This was one of my favorites to write because I enjoyed writing the dialogue and the witty banter between Lana and a bound and gagged Mr. Katz. I love that sort of thing!