Stories of Tie Up Games

Tieup1 wrote: 4 years ago Things are looking bleak for Stacy.

Nainur wrote: 4 years ago The final chapter – Cuba Libre

I wished I could do something.
But if I had thought earlier she was a Japanese master of chair-bondage, this time she really had shown me what a proper chair-tie was. My feet had been dragged back and my toes couldn’t touch the ground. No pushing and shuffling. All my limbs and all my body had been lashed so tightly to the chair, that I couldn’t move myself around. The chair was so broad it hardly moved and I doubt it could be broken (I had seen it in a TV-sow once or twice) and I feared even then I would probably only hurt myself. Or choke myself, as my neck was tied to the lean as well.
I could only sit and wait for the slavers to fetch me.
I was so terrified I couldn’t even weep. I was desperate and also furious. How could she be so mean? Yes, in a way I understood my Company was regaded as an enemy and I was a representative of the enemy. But I love her! And we had make love to each other.
I couldn’t understand it.
And suddenly I notice it was silent. Too silent.
No chatting women. No kids playing. Well, chicken were still wandering about and some distant traffic, but it had become very quiet. Too quiet.
They were coming!
I started to tremble as I heard a powerful engine of a big van arriving. They were here! God! Please I would- shots! Screaming! More shots! Commands and more screaming and shots. A final shot. Silence again.
Did they murder Carmen’s guards? She might had left guards – oh, no! Carmen!
Carmen!
I screamed in my gag in despair and only now I learned how deep love can be: she betrayed me, yet still I feared for her forgetting my own fate!
Silent, careful steps on the stair… the door opened. I whimpered as dark, heavily armed people entered. Masked they were. I wondered why slavers would go about her cruel business dressed like this and why… hey, they checked even the restroom and only now I saw the letters on their vests and my brain was functioning again.
POLICE SPECIAL.
The cops! A local S.W.A.T.-troop had somehow learned my whereabouts, I was being rescued and – CARMEN! Dear lord, Carmen…
“Senora Bo’err? Senora?”
I nodded. Yes, that’s me, thank you very much and I am alive.
They cut all those wonderful ropes and I hated them. They killed Carmen and they destroyed those wonderful ropes. I admit it was a bit embarrassing what happened, but I was in a shock and that is not unusual, which the police-men knew – they didn’t knew the exact reason, of course.
I was brought up and saw four corpses. Not Carmen. Those people somehow didn’t looked like Carmen’s guys and then I saw the van and they showed my a big coffin-like box in it: with straps and other restraints and even a mask to support the breathing of the victim, for it seemed quite thick padded. These dead ones were slavers! It had been the slavers who had been ambushed by the police!
A police-captain beamed: “We was informed where you had been held, Senora Bowers, and that you should be taken to a new place. We waited for them and now these terrorists are dead!”
“No terrorists, captain: slavers!”
“Que?”
“I want to speak to the Embassy, captain. May I inquire who told you? A woman, I suppose?”
“Si! She told us, but she had feared of revenge. She only told us her name was…”
Carmen!

-
Epilog 1:
Well, the F.B.I. had arrested former Director Monroe yesterday. I refused a promotion on the condition to stay in Tetuanaca – I wanted to be far away. A few hours to Florida, change into a regular plane to New York and…I am getting sleepy.

The plane is descending. Florida already?
How long have I slept?
I dreamt of Carmen, I believe…oh, a drink! Nice from the stewardess. A coke. Very good.
And a postcard. Strange.
“Visitar habanna do Cuba!” – visit havanna, Cuba. Even more strange. I sipped the drink
Oh, it’s not a coke! A coke, lemon and – rum!
I turned the card. “If you like meet me at Hotel Central, Suite 4, reserved on the name Villado. Carmen.”
The name of the drink is of course – Cuba Libre.
And then there was a voice. The flight-captain.
“I am sorry lady and gentlemen, we have been forced to change direction and are going to land unscheduled. I was assured that no passenger or crew will be harmed, it is only the stores we are transporting. Therefor we will land on a smaller air-strip in a short time. Stay calm and do fasten-seatbelts. Thank you!”
What?
“Have you ever thought of early retirement?”
The stewardess, now armed, had changed and winked at me. I stared at her. “Will you visit me in the suite no. 4?”
Yes, I would. And never leave her again. For I am her captured prize.

Epilog 2 – the files:
Stacie Bowers left the plane saying “for a stroll”. She disappeared.

In spite of reports that she had stopped fighting the “lawful government” and was “presumably dead”, she only had retired from ‘front-line-duty’. She is still active for the T.P.L.A. now on “Planning and Counter-Planning”-staff duy holding the rank of Colonel. However, she has taken some personal shares and is living in a spacious estate in the Caribbean, together with someone she likes to call her ‘my prize’.


Fin.

(I hope you enjoyed the journey. Again many thanks to @captured_prize.)

Tieup1 wrote: 4 years ago A good story, well written, sounds like there could be a follow on ?