It was Amber's first night as a security guard and she was letting it show. She had overdressed (the uniform only called for a black shirt, jacket and shoes) in a pair of tailored pants, a silken button-down and a slim jacket that very clearly telegraphed where she had a holstered Tazer and nightstick. Her partner, David, was frustrated and had insisted that she could stay safely in the office and watch the monitors while he did rounds, even though the training had firmly informed her that both of the guards needed to go on each patrol. She wasn't even sure what they were guarding - it was strictly "need to know," and Amber certainly didn't need to know (nor did David, for that matter) - they didn't let the 24-year-old newest employee in on the secrets just yet.
So in the meantime, she nervously chewed her lip, fiddled with the end of her brown hair (worn down and done perfectly, to her embarrassment) and stared at her wrist - a large Garmin Watch she had bought just for this job ('I'll need it to track my steps and heart rate at my new gig!') showed her, very depressingly, how slowly time was passing as the seconds ticked by. She had gotten to work at 10pm and it was barely 11, meaning she had seven more hours of work to look forward to. Unfortunately, as she was so focused on trying to remember when her partner was supposed to get back from his rounds and wondering why she had bothered spending extra on the black strap for her new watch, she missed a brief period of static passing over all of the security cameras and, shortly afterwards, the footsteps leading up to the door of the security office.
_________
On the other side of the building, Amber's much more experienced partner, David, was tiredly walking back and forth, stalling when he'd have to go back into the security office. Despite him only being six years older and one year more experienced, his new partner treated him like he was the CEO of the entire operation, asking him countless questions about the job while also trying to hide her lack of experience in private security work. In a job that was supposedly designed for people who like to be alone with their thoughts, he had been doing a depressing amount of talking this evening.
David sighed, checked the time and decided he had delayed long enough. He began to stroll, in no particular hurry, back to the security office - there was one more hallway to walk down past it and who knows - maybe he'd have a security camera to fiddle with or something to delay his return.
________
"Hmmmmmph!"
Amber shouted ineffectually into the huge, gloved hand over her mouth as she heard David's footsteps approach the office. The three criminals had, unlike her, clearly been doing this job for a while. Despite moving across the room quickly, they had opened the door, entered the room, and gotten to the back of Amber's office chair with nearly no sound. The woman had closed the door behind them while the two men grabbed Amber, one clapping a large hand over her mouth while the other dragged her chair away from the desk. Before she'd had time to take a breath, her hands were tied in front of her with a thick white cable tie and she was forcefully dragged to the corner of the room - with a door that opened inwards, it would block anyone's view of her before they had entered the room fully, and with her hands tied, a bearhug that kept her arms pinned to her sides and the stifling handgag, she doubted she'd be able to warn David, or anyone else, what had happened.
When David's footsteps had passed the office, the woman walked over to face Amber.
"You are so out of your depth here, sweetheart," she said as she took a cigar cutter from her pocket. "Just play nice and you won't get hurt."
"Mmmmmph!"
"Now," the woman continued, as she put Amber's right thumb through the cigar cutter's hole, "how many guards are on duty besides you? Just show me on your fingers." She applied just enough pressure to press a white circle into Amber's knuckle.
Amber was almost too scared to answer - her green eyes were wide and pleading as met the woman's cold brown ones. She extended one index finger.
"Are you positive?"
"Ymmmmph!"
The woman removed the cigar cutter and stepped back.
"We'll wait, then. Not a sound out of you, miss."
Amber barely heard her - she just stared at the thin, white circle on her knuckle. Her eyes fell on the large face of her watch, and she noticed that, ironically, she had met her target heart rate today, at least.
________
David, completely unaware of his partner's trouble, trudged back to the security office. He sighed heavily and paused to tie his shoe...but was that Amber starting to shout his name, or was he hearing things? (Amber, quite bravely, had stomped on the foot of the man who had his hand over her mouth and begun to shout, but only made it to the first syllable before the man's hand slapped over her mouth and silenced her again.)
'She probably thought of another question,' David thought to himself as he opened the door to the office. He took a few steps in and heard the door close behind him as he saw Amber in the corner, stock still and silent in the corner of the room, a hand over her mouth and a knife at her throat.
"Oh....shit." He began to turn and run when he was also grabbed from behind.
"What thmmmmph!" A hand gripped David's mouth as well as reality hit him. He instinctively reached for his Taser before a woman with a gun approached from another corner. Realizing that he was very much overpowered, he stopped struggling but breathed hard through his nose as the woman stepped into view, then walked to him and removed his weapons.
"Tie these two up and get them out of the way; we don't know how much time we have."
With minimal struggling or shouting from David (Amber still had some ambitions of foiling a robbery on her first day and continued to squeal into the hand over her mouth) the two guards were marched out of the office and down the hallway before being forced into a supply closet. The ziptie around Amber's wrists was cut and, at gunpoint, the two guards removed their jackets, shirts, and shoes, leaving David in a white tank-top and Amber in a thin black t-shirt and, thankfully, pants.
"Listen, we don't even know what's here, so you can just take whatever and we won't say a thing!" David desperately plead his case as one of the men tied his hands behind him with a zip tie, tightened brutally tightly. Amber would have agreed, but the burglars hadn't taken any chances and kept a hand over her mouth over the entire time.
"We do know what's here, fortunately," said the woman as she cinched a cable tie around Amber's wrists, tying them behind her. She took care to tighten it as far as possible before wrapping another below Amber's watch and just above her palms and zipping it tight as well - not out of any fear she would escape, but just because Amber had made her night more stressful. The young woman satisfied her by letting out a muffled squeal into the hand over her mouth.
"And the plan is already to take whatever we want," grumbled one of the men. Both guards were forced to the ground and had their legs tied together at the ankles and knees with more cable ties.
"Just don't hurt us - I don't give a shit what else happens," said David.
"Mmmmph!" Amber said in muffled agreement - at this point, with her hands and feet bound and the majority of her uniform removed, she had given up any heroic aspirations.
"I'm so glad you agree," said the woman drily. "Now open your mouth."
"Hang on," David said. "There's no need to gag u---mmmmph!" His sentence was cut short as the man behind him shoved one of David's socks into his open mouth; it was a thick, cotton dress sock and hadn't gone through the laundry this week, and the taste almost made him retch. His other sock was forced between his lips and tied snugly at the back of his neck in a thick cleave gag. He grunted as another ziptie went around the bonds on his wrists and attached to the shelving behind him.
"And for you, Miss Noisy," the woman said. Amber's eyes shot wide open and she pleaded into the hand over her mouth as the burglar approached and took a bright yellow ball from her pocket. It was about the size of a baseball and even had a cartoon smiley face on the side, though it was faded under a few layers of dust.
"Hmmmph!"
"I had to find something special to make sure you stayed quiet, or at least regretted shouting earlier," said the woman with a distressing cheeriness as she knelt in front of Amber. As soon as the young woman resolved to just keep her mouth closed no matter what, the man removed his hand from her mouth and gave her hair a sharp but slight tug. Amber instinctively opened her mouth to yelp.
"He-nnnnnnnnnngh!" The woman wasted no time in shoving the stress ball into Amber's open mouth. Luckily, it was made of rubber and designed to be squeezed, but even then it had to be compressed and shoved behind her front teeth, where it promptly expanded and forced her jaw so wide open both her top and bottom teeth were showing. David almost laughed into his own gag at the sight of his overly-talkative partner, mouth held into an 'O' shape, green eyes wide with shock and a smiling, cartoon face between her lips.
"Hnnnnnmmmph!" Amber's eyes followed a thick roll of duct tape as it was wrapped around her head, first forming a thick cleave gag between her lips, though by the 10th wrap it just covered her entire mouth from her jaw up; the way the man gripped her jaw every time to make sure the gag was tight made her eyes water. She moaned into her gag as her wrist bonds were similarly connected to the shelving behind her. Despite trying to chew the stress ball to make it more manageable, the duct tape around her head ensured her jaw wouldn't move enough.
The woman moved over to David and wrapped the tape around his head a few times for good measure before picking up their discarded clothes and turning to leave, calling over her shoulder at the two bound and gagged guards as the door closed:
"We'll leave the light on for you two - maybe the morning shift will notice!" The heavy door to the supply closet closed.
David thrashed back and forth, the muscles in his shoulders and arms straining to break the zip tie around his wrists, or, failing that, at least the one holding him to the table, but he was held fast. A loud shout into his gag was similarly disappointing. He met Amber's eyes, hoping to coordinate some escape effort, but the young woman was too busy dealing with the massive size of her gag and blinking away tears. She strained her wrists to the left and right but had as little luck as David had. She saw the time on her watch as the words "the morning shift" registered: it was only 11:15pm, so despite feeling like hours since she was grabbed in the office, she and David had been ambushed, forced to the closet, tied, gagged and left alone in the space of 15 minutes, and "the morning shift" was a long ways away.
__________
Part one of two based on a request by @Detective-Gag I found way back in the archives - hope it's enjoyable!
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JUST A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT TO REMIND EVERYONE (GUESTS AND REGISTERED USERS ALIKE) THAT THIS FORUM IS BUILT AROUND USER PARTICIPATION AND PUBLIC INTERACTIONS. IF YOU SEE A THREAD YOU LIKE, PARTICIPATE! IF YOU ENJOYED READING A STORY, POST A COMMENT TO LET THE AUTHOR KNOW! TAKING A FEW EXTRA SECONDS TO LET AN AUTHOR KNOW YOU ENJOYED HIS OR HER WORK IS THE BEST WAY TO ENSURE THAT MORE SIMILAR STORIES ARE POSTED. KEEPING THE COMMUNITY ALIVE IS A GROUP EFFORT. LET'S ALL MAKE AN EFFORT TO PARTICIPATE.
The Heist - Story Request (MMF/MF+)
The Heist - Story Request (MMF/MF+)
Last edited by DesertFox 1 month ago, edited 2 times in total.
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Or don't! Unlike the situations in my stories, it's entirely up to you!
Or don't! Unlike the situations in my stories, it's entirely up to you!
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Detective-Gag
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 229
- Joined: 5 years ago
Great story!
Very well-written.
Very well-written.
While David and Amber struggled, tightly bound and gagged in the storage closet, their employers casually swiped their key cards and strolled in through the front gates.
Grace, the leader of the less-than-legal enterprise, was dressed in a sharp blue suit, cut professionally to her thin frame. Her entire look was always curated to give the utmost vibe of professionalism and legitimate CEO, despite making her living off fencing stolen goods. Her shoes cost $3,000, her suit was $5,000, and her Rolex, a thick stainless steel watch on her thin wrist, was a mere $14,000. Had she ever gone diving a day in her life? Absolutely not. Did she care? Not at all. It was all for the purpose of appearances, and if her colleagues and partners thought she looked more like a lawyer than a gun runner and drug smuggler, it fit her agenda perfectly. Her blonde hair was down, her makeup was done, and even though it was the end of the day, her cool blue eyes showed everyone that she was in control. Everything from the white BMW to the time on her chronograph was perfect - she liked it that way, and the more people who saw her like that never thought "that lady probably pays for that stuff by breaking the law."
Her assistant was much more casual. Paul looked after the actual numbers like they were worth his life (which, in a way, they were), and was constantly typing on his phone. Whether they were emails, texts, or just crunching things on his calculator app, he was, in a sense, the engine that drove the 30 thousand dollar wardrobe of his boss - he had a cushy enough life of his own, so he was hardly bothered.
Either way, both of them walked through the gates without a worry in the world. They ran this side of town, and who would think otherwise?
_______
Meanwhile, their two employees were finding no give in the zipties holding them to the shelves in the supply closet. This room was hardly used, and even with the light on their was little hope in either of them that their absence would be noted by the afternoon; there's not exactly protocol for regular check-ins when you're the only guards at the "Stolen Shit Emporium."
David wrenched his shoulders back and forth, making forceful, muffled grunts into the sock in his mouth. He had spent the last however long trying to find a sharp enough edge to cut the cable ties around his wrists but had had zero luck. Twisting and kicking his ankles had given him no progress either, and the floor around him had nothing at all that he could kick to alert people outside. Time and time again he had tried to catch the attention of his partner, similarly tied and gagged on the other side of the room, but she had plenty of her own problems to deal with.
This was Amber's first night, after all! Her green eyes shone with the hint of tears as she chewed at the stress ball in her mouth, but the tape wrapped tightly around her head stopped her from moving her jaw enough to manage its considerable size. Despite staring at the time on her watch, the minutes seemed to feel like hours as she intermittently tried to shout into her gag and twist her body around - she and David had been bound, gagged and abandoned in the storage room only 30 minutes ago and it had felt like days. She knew that - at some point - someone or another was coming to inspect the facility, but she had no idea who or when - unfortunately for them.
________
"We probably have to make this quick," Paul said to Grace as they walked in the front door to the warehouse. "The buyers are expecting us at 4am and we'd do better to sleep a few hours." His phone told him it wasn't quite midnight and he didn't enjoy thinking of the three-or-so hours of rest he'd have.
"We'll finish when I say we're finished," Grace sharply replied. Her acidic tone didn't leave any room for discussion; outside of her public office, she saw no need to put on the air that she was anything but a hardened crime boss. Internally, though, she agreed. Her watch told her it was quickly approaching midnight, and she always was at her best when she had a few hours on the pillow before she had to wake up and do it all over again - that said, the benefit of making your fortune outside the law was that no one cared if you slept half the day away. That said, it was better for the appearance - and appearance was everything to Grace - to seem presentable.
They turned left after entering the front door, Grace barely paying attention to the security guard who nodded at her as she walked by. Paul hesitated for a fraction of a second - did he know that guy? - before the quick hurrying of Grace's heels on the floor made him rush to catch up. She had stopped and opened a door, looking in on crates upon crates of...Paul didn't even want to know. He was, however, vaguely curious about a light that was left on in a rarely-used supply closet and had stopped to jiggle the handle, finding that it was locked. Of course, he had no idea that two guards were yelling into their gags and slamming the floor with their feet, but with a thick sock stuffed in David's mouth and a baseball-sized stress ball taped in Amber's, there was barely any audible noise coming through the heavy door, and bare feet on rubberized floors didn't make enough of a sound to let Paul know two of their employees had been restrained in the room.
Still, electricity wasn't free, and Paul was all about the numbers, so he started to flip through the many keys on the key he used for this building to search for the right one. Having found it, he moved his hand towards the lock, put the key in place, and-
"Hurry up, Paul," Grace's sharp, 'no room for delay or argument' tone called from several doors down. Paul hastily withdrew the key and hurried after her. Inside the room, David was grumbling into his gag in frustration while Amber was actively crying, causing the black mascara she had so carefully applied to run onto the layers of duct tape wrapped around her head. She was already on the edge of tears just dealing with the size of her gag, but this disappointment pushed her over the edge.
________
Paul, true to his commitment to keep Grace’s business running, was fast on her heels when she mentioned that she had to check out the next room alone and he should wait in the hallway. He never questioned these sorts of decisions (he never questioned anything she said, honestly), as he knew that it was probably better for everyone involved if he didn’t know the full stake of the business.
While Grace entered the separate, locked room on her own and closed the door behind her, a man came out of the door to the other side of the hallway, grabbed Paul and clamped a massive hand over his protesting mouth as he dragged him forcefully back into a separate room, the staff kitchen.
______
Grace opened several crates full of illegal weapons of all shapes and sizes and carefully counted the inventory. She was time-conscious to a fault and, when her eyes fell on the face of her Rolex and she noticed two minutes had passed, she quickly closed the last crate and left the room.
Unfortunately for her, and for most everyone involved, the burglars had barely needed one minute to lash Paul’s wrists to the arms of an office chair with coarse white rope and force a sponge into his mouth. They were still working on looping rope around the chair to secure him when they heard the door down the hall open again as Grace left the room.
The man whose hand was covering Paul’s mouth leaned in close and whispered “call her in here, but don’t make another sound” before quickly pulling the sponge from Paul’s mouth. Paul, ever the obedient type, complied:
“Grace,” he called, only somewhat shakily, given the circumstances. “Could you come take a look at this?”
Grace rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch again.
“I swear to god Paul, we’re behind schedule already - this has better be good!” She was approaching the kitchen quickly but, if Paul had had any second thoughts, the sponge that was forcefully packed into his mouth shortly after his sentence settled them.
When Grace arrived at the kitchen, even her usually-implacable exterior was somewhat shocked when she saw her assistant tied to a chair, shaking his head wildly and making muffled noises into a hand over his mouth. One man gripped his face tightly while another knelt at his feet and tied his ankles together.
“What the fuck is this,” Grace shouted as she took a step into the room, her blood boiling that these people dare cross her like this. “Do you know who the fuck - “
Her temper settled down rapidly when she felt the barrel of a small gun poke into her lower back and a woman’s voice behind her answered.
“We know exactly who you are, dear - and as for what this is: I’ll give you one guess.”
_____
A minute later, Paul was finally tied to his captors’ satisfaction and, after a large piece of tape was plastered over his lips to seal the sponge in his mouth, the office chair he was tied to was almost lazily pushed to the corner of the room like an afterthought.
Meanwhile, Grace was seated on the floor where one of the men tied her ankles together with rope. Her thick gray sweater had already been removed and her hands tied behind her back with more rope, and the other man was running rope around her chest to hold her arms to her side.
Grace’s attitude, however, had not suffered one bit as she continued to heap verbal abuse on the burglars.
“If you assholes think you’re getting away with this, you’re wrong! Do you know who I am? You’re fucking dead the second my partners hear about this, mark my words!”
The woman watched the entire tirade with a sort of bored smile, as if she’d heard it all before (as it turns out, she had).
In the middle of the fifth or sixth version of “you’re going to pay for this,” she finally had enough and pointed the gun at her.
“Look, Grace,” she drawled. “If you want to make it through the night, you’re going to have to cut that shit out immediately. It was funny at first but it’s seriously getting on my nerves.”
Looking down the barrel of the gun took the fight out of Grace, verbally speaking, but she still glared daggers at her assailants while more coils of rope were looped around her arms, just below her elbows. When it was cinched together tightly enough for her elbows to touch she clenched her jaw, but didn't give her captors the pleasure of showing she was in pain. It did, however, break her composure.
"I swear to god, they are never going to find your bodies if it's the last thing I do!"
The woman made a 'tsk, tsk' sound at Grace and clicked her tongue against her teeth.
"Your tone is very acidic, young lady," she chided. In the corner, Paul nodded his head and quietly agreed into his gag. "I bet we can do something about it, though."
In her hand she revealed a large, ripe lemon - probably retrieved from the staff fridge, and Grace's cold blue eyes widened in alarm for the first time.
"Don't you fucking dare-" the woman cut her off by leveling her gun at her as she crouched down to Grace's level. By this point, Grace's body was thoroughly tied - there was rope around her wrists and ankles, above her knees, around her chest and cinching her elbows together - she was very seriously screwed.
"Just open, and get this over with."
Grace, seeing no other options, opened her mouth wide. The woman wasted no time shoving the lemon inside, jamming it deep behind Grace's front teeth. Her jaw was forced open and her small, white teeth dug into the skin of the fruit. A small gurgle came out of her mouth as a small bit of lemon juice went down her throat.
"Now chew."
Grace, her icy confidence barely intact, shook her head, but couldn't hide a small tear leaking from the corner of her eye.
The woman rolled her eyes and gestured with her free hand and one of the men behind Grace placed his hand underneath her open jaw and firmly pushed it closed.
"Hnnnnngghhh!"
Grace's teeth bit into the top and bottom of the lemon, squirting a large splash of juice directly down her throat. She struggled to shake her head to tell the woman to make it stop, or at least to open her mouth so she didn't force more lemon juice down, but the man firmly held it closed until the small, sour fruit was nearly drained. The tears flowed more freely now - smearing mascara down Grace's cheeks. To Paul, silently observing in a chair in the corner of the room, this experience may have been somewhat cathartic if he weren't so scared.
"Now," the woman said, "I'm guessing that's taken the fight out of you some, right dear?"
Grace wanted to angrily curse at the woman, despite still having a (much smaller) lemon lodged in her mouth and a large hand over her face, but despite everything she couldn't quite see a way out of this that didn't end much worse than it had already gone.
So instead, she nodded playing up the "wide eyed and scared" face, thinking: 'If I act like I'm meekly accepting the position I'm in, she'll let her guard down and it'll be easier for me to escape!'
Little did she know how wrong she was about that.
"The act doesn't fool me - I know the type of person you are. Lay her on her stomach - let's make sure she really doesn't go anywhere."
__________
Five minutes later, Grace had regretted ever sparing a second not screaming at the woman when she had the chance. Her hands were hogtied to her feet with less than three inches of space between her ankles and wrists - she could have easily grabbed the bottom of her shoes. More rope led from her ankles to where the rope around her chest circled her back, arching her front sharply so her shoulders were off the floor. The drained lemon, deep teeth marks in the top and bottom, lay on the floor next to her face, but had been replaced by both of Paul's dress socks, who had tried his best to look apologetic as the thick cotton socks, which had been in leather dress shoes the entire day and hadn't been washed in days ('Honestly, if she made me work fewer hours, I would have time to do laundry - so in a way it's her fault!') were removed and balled up before being shoved into Grace's mouth. She had barely had time to shriek a sudden "fuck y-mmmph" between the lemon being pulled out of her mouth and the socks being stuffed in, and the hand over her mouth was replaced just as quickly so she couldn't try and spit them out.
She was still screaming curses that were just death threats and promises of tortures and revenge, but only muffled grunts came out from behind the stuffing and handgag, and the "if looks could kill" eyes were taken a little less seriously when they were just above cheeks that puffed out and were turning red and had trails of run mascara down beneath them. The woman just smiled down at her.
"It doesn't seem," she said, "like you've realized who is in control in this room, and I'm almost out of ideas...god you're a loud one though!"
She moved over the Paul and whipped the pocket square out of his suit jacket with a flourish and walked over to Grace, who, at this point, was starting to get the memo. Her eyes widened just a little more as the woman loudly, almost violently blew her nose into the handkerchief-turned-tissue, balled it up and moved it towards Grace's face. The blonde woman shook her head, her icy blue eyes wide in disbelief as the hand over her mouth was removed and the handkerchief shoved inside of it. Grace mad an involuntary gargling noise as her mouth was packed full to the brim, with a little bit of stained handkerchief hanging out of the front. The woman poked and prodded at the end until satisfied it was full, took a handy roll of electrical tape from her pocket and started winding it brutally tightly around Grace's head and between her lips. The very stretchy and incredibly sticky tape formed a thick cleave gag that held Grace's mouth all the way open and was wrapped so tightly it dug into the corners of her lips.
"Okay, Grace. Try and call for help."
"Hmmmmphhhh," Grace moaned into the gag.
"No, do it like you mean it - do it like your friends are just outside the door."
"HMMMMMMPHHHH!" Grace's face turned red as she screamed as loud as she could, which barely made a sound at all.
"That'll do. Now, for the finishing touch..."
The woman took one more length of rope, which she handed to one of her accomplices. She leaned down and looked into Grace's eyes as the man used one end of the rope to tie her blonde hair into a tight ponytail.
"You know, eye contact is so important in business - I feel like you need a reminder." Grace moaned into her gag as the man pulled the rope attached to her hair and connected it to her feet, arching her back into a tight arc. Her eyes were forced to meet the woman's - the fight was nearly out of her, but, even with her mascara ruined, eyes red and cheeks bulging from the packing stuffed in her mouth, she was still glaring daggers at her captors, committing their faces to memory.
"Alright," the woman said, as she grabbed Grace's wrist and checked the time on her Rolex. "Looks like it's 1am and we should be getting out of here...I'm sure someone will be by in the morning for you too! In the meantime, here's a present." She laid one of the knives from the kitchen a few inches from Grace's face. Grace's eyes went wider - she could barely see the ground, her back was so arched, but she still got a flare of hope from it being so close.
"Hopefully you're able to grab that and cut yourself free by the time the morning shift comes in, because I'm sure the employees would love to see their boss like this. Even he is getting a kick out of it," she said, nodding towards Paul, still tied to his chair in the corner. She wasn't entirely wrong - he was feeling an odd satisfaction from seeing his controlling boss so humbled.
"Best of luck," the woman called as she and her accomplices left the room, tightly closing and locking the door. Grace immediately started rolling towards the knife, at least as much as her hogtie would allow. Paul watched, fascinated at the fight still in his boss - he had given a few tugs at the ties holding him to the chair and, discovering that they were too tight, had given up and resigned himself to waiting until morning.
Grace grunted into the gag as she finally rolled onto her side and her hands found the edge of the knife, and her thoughts of victory instantly turned sour as she realized it was just a disposable plastic knife and had no chance of cutting the rope free. That didn't stop her from spending the next fifteen minutes sawing away at the bonds between her wrists, finally giving a resigned moan into her gag as she felt the knife break. She attempted to lay her head on the floor, but the hairtie prevented her from even relaxing that much. There was a long night ahead of them.
Grace, the leader of the less-than-legal enterprise, was dressed in a sharp blue suit, cut professionally to her thin frame. Her entire look was always curated to give the utmost vibe of professionalism and legitimate CEO, despite making her living off fencing stolen goods. Her shoes cost $3,000, her suit was $5,000, and her Rolex, a thick stainless steel watch on her thin wrist, was a mere $14,000. Had she ever gone diving a day in her life? Absolutely not. Did she care? Not at all. It was all for the purpose of appearances, and if her colleagues and partners thought she looked more like a lawyer than a gun runner and drug smuggler, it fit her agenda perfectly. Her blonde hair was down, her makeup was done, and even though it was the end of the day, her cool blue eyes showed everyone that she was in control. Everything from the white BMW to the time on her chronograph was perfect - she liked it that way, and the more people who saw her like that never thought "that lady probably pays for that stuff by breaking the law."
Her assistant was much more casual. Paul looked after the actual numbers like they were worth his life (which, in a way, they were), and was constantly typing on his phone. Whether they were emails, texts, or just crunching things on his calculator app, he was, in a sense, the engine that drove the 30 thousand dollar wardrobe of his boss - he had a cushy enough life of his own, so he was hardly bothered.
Either way, both of them walked through the gates without a worry in the world. They ran this side of town, and who would think otherwise?
_______
Meanwhile, their two employees were finding no give in the zipties holding them to the shelves in the supply closet. This room was hardly used, and even with the light on their was little hope in either of them that their absence would be noted by the afternoon; there's not exactly protocol for regular check-ins when you're the only guards at the "Stolen Shit Emporium."
David wrenched his shoulders back and forth, making forceful, muffled grunts into the sock in his mouth. He had spent the last however long trying to find a sharp enough edge to cut the cable ties around his wrists but had had zero luck. Twisting and kicking his ankles had given him no progress either, and the floor around him had nothing at all that he could kick to alert people outside. Time and time again he had tried to catch the attention of his partner, similarly tied and gagged on the other side of the room, but she had plenty of her own problems to deal with.
This was Amber's first night, after all! Her green eyes shone with the hint of tears as she chewed at the stress ball in her mouth, but the tape wrapped tightly around her head stopped her from moving her jaw enough to manage its considerable size. Despite staring at the time on her watch, the minutes seemed to feel like hours as she intermittently tried to shout into her gag and twist her body around - she and David had been bound, gagged and abandoned in the storage room only 30 minutes ago and it had felt like days. She knew that - at some point - someone or another was coming to inspect the facility, but she had no idea who or when - unfortunately for them.
________
"We probably have to make this quick," Paul said to Grace as they walked in the front door to the warehouse. "The buyers are expecting us at 4am and we'd do better to sleep a few hours." His phone told him it wasn't quite midnight and he didn't enjoy thinking of the three-or-so hours of rest he'd have.
"We'll finish when I say we're finished," Grace sharply replied. Her acidic tone didn't leave any room for discussion; outside of her public office, she saw no need to put on the air that she was anything but a hardened crime boss. Internally, though, she agreed. Her watch told her it was quickly approaching midnight, and she always was at her best when she had a few hours on the pillow before she had to wake up and do it all over again - that said, the benefit of making your fortune outside the law was that no one cared if you slept half the day away. That said, it was better for the appearance - and appearance was everything to Grace - to seem presentable.
They turned left after entering the front door, Grace barely paying attention to the security guard who nodded at her as she walked by. Paul hesitated for a fraction of a second - did he know that guy? - before the quick hurrying of Grace's heels on the floor made him rush to catch up. She had stopped and opened a door, looking in on crates upon crates of...Paul didn't even want to know. He was, however, vaguely curious about a light that was left on in a rarely-used supply closet and had stopped to jiggle the handle, finding that it was locked. Of course, he had no idea that two guards were yelling into their gags and slamming the floor with their feet, but with a thick sock stuffed in David's mouth and a baseball-sized stress ball taped in Amber's, there was barely any audible noise coming through the heavy door, and bare feet on rubberized floors didn't make enough of a sound to let Paul know two of their employees had been restrained in the room.
Still, electricity wasn't free, and Paul was all about the numbers, so he started to flip through the many keys on the key he used for this building to search for the right one. Having found it, he moved his hand towards the lock, put the key in place, and-
"Hurry up, Paul," Grace's sharp, 'no room for delay or argument' tone called from several doors down. Paul hastily withdrew the key and hurried after her. Inside the room, David was grumbling into his gag in frustration while Amber was actively crying, causing the black mascara she had so carefully applied to run onto the layers of duct tape wrapped around her head. She was already on the edge of tears just dealing with the size of her gag, but this disappointment pushed her over the edge.
________
Paul, true to his commitment to keep Grace’s business running, was fast on her heels when she mentioned that she had to check out the next room alone and he should wait in the hallway. He never questioned these sorts of decisions (he never questioned anything she said, honestly), as he knew that it was probably better for everyone involved if he didn’t know the full stake of the business.
While Grace entered the separate, locked room on her own and closed the door behind her, a man came out of the door to the other side of the hallway, grabbed Paul and clamped a massive hand over his protesting mouth as he dragged him forcefully back into a separate room, the staff kitchen.
______
Grace opened several crates full of illegal weapons of all shapes and sizes and carefully counted the inventory. She was time-conscious to a fault and, when her eyes fell on the face of her Rolex and she noticed two minutes had passed, she quickly closed the last crate and left the room.
Unfortunately for her, and for most everyone involved, the burglars had barely needed one minute to lash Paul’s wrists to the arms of an office chair with coarse white rope and force a sponge into his mouth. They were still working on looping rope around the chair to secure him when they heard the door down the hall open again as Grace left the room.
The man whose hand was covering Paul’s mouth leaned in close and whispered “call her in here, but don’t make another sound” before quickly pulling the sponge from Paul’s mouth. Paul, ever the obedient type, complied:
“Grace,” he called, only somewhat shakily, given the circumstances. “Could you come take a look at this?”
Grace rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch again.
“I swear to god Paul, we’re behind schedule already - this has better be good!” She was approaching the kitchen quickly but, if Paul had had any second thoughts, the sponge that was forcefully packed into his mouth shortly after his sentence settled them.
When Grace arrived at the kitchen, even her usually-implacable exterior was somewhat shocked when she saw her assistant tied to a chair, shaking his head wildly and making muffled noises into a hand over his mouth. One man gripped his face tightly while another knelt at his feet and tied his ankles together.
“What the fuck is this,” Grace shouted as she took a step into the room, her blood boiling that these people dare cross her like this. “Do you know who the fuck - “
Her temper settled down rapidly when she felt the barrel of a small gun poke into her lower back and a woman’s voice behind her answered.
“We know exactly who you are, dear - and as for what this is: I’ll give you one guess.”
_____
A minute later, Paul was finally tied to his captors’ satisfaction and, after a large piece of tape was plastered over his lips to seal the sponge in his mouth, the office chair he was tied to was almost lazily pushed to the corner of the room like an afterthought.
Meanwhile, Grace was seated on the floor where one of the men tied her ankles together with rope. Her thick gray sweater had already been removed and her hands tied behind her back with more rope, and the other man was running rope around her chest to hold her arms to her side.
Grace’s attitude, however, had not suffered one bit as she continued to heap verbal abuse on the burglars.
“If you assholes think you’re getting away with this, you’re wrong! Do you know who I am? You’re fucking dead the second my partners hear about this, mark my words!”
The woman watched the entire tirade with a sort of bored smile, as if she’d heard it all before (as it turns out, she had).
In the middle of the fifth or sixth version of “you’re going to pay for this,” she finally had enough and pointed the gun at her.
“Look, Grace,” she drawled. “If you want to make it through the night, you’re going to have to cut that shit out immediately. It was funny at first but it’s seriously getting on my nerves.”
Looking down the barrel of the gun took the fight out of Grace, verbally speaking, but she still glared daggers at her assailants while more coils of rope were looped around her arms, just below her elbows. When it was cinched together tightly enough for her elbows to touch she clenched her jaw, but didn't give her captors the pleasure of showing she was in pain. It did, however, break her composure.
"I swear to god, they are never going to find your bodies if it's the last thing I do!"
The woman made a 'tsk, tsk' sound at Grace and clicked her tongue against her teeth.
"Your tone is very acidic, young lady," she chided. In the corner, Paul nodded his head and quietly agreed into his gag. "I bet we can do something about it, though."
In her hand she revealed a large, ripe lemon - probably retrieved from the staff fridge, and Grace's cold blue eyes widened in alarm for the first time.
"Don't you fucking dare-" the woman cut her off by leveling her gun at her as she crouched down to Grace's level. By this point, Grace's body was thoroughly tied - there was rope around her wrists and ankles, above her knees, around her chest and cinching her elbows together - she was very seriously screwed.
"Just open, and get this over with."
Grace, seeing no other options, opened her mouth wide. The woman wasted no time shoving the lemon inside, jamming it deep behind Grace's front teeth. Her jaw was forced open and her small, white teeth dug into the skin of the fruit. A small gurgle came out of her mouth as a small bit of lemon juice went down her throat.
"Now chew."
Grace, her icy confidence barely intact, shook her head, but couldn't hide a small tear leaking from the corner of her eye.
The woman rolled her eyes and gestured with her free hand and one of the men behind Grace placed his hand underneath her open jaw and firmly pushed it closed.
"Hnnnnngghhh!"
Grace's teeth bit into the top and bottom of the lemon, squirting a large splash of juice directly down her throat. She struggled to shake her head to tell the woman to make it stop, or at least to open her mouth so she didn't force more lemon juice down, but the man firmly held it closed until the small, sour fruit was nearly drained. The tears flowed more freely now - smearing mascara down Grace's cheeks. To Paul, silently observing in a chair in the corner of the room, this experience may have been somewhat cathartic if he weren't so scared.
"Now," the woman said, "I'm guessing that's taken the fight out of you some, right dear?"
Grace wanted to angrily curse at the woman, despite still having a (much smaller) lemon lodged in her mouth and a large hand over her face, but despite everything she couldn't quite see a way out of this that didn't end much worse than it had already gone.
So instead, she nodded playing up the "wide eyed and scared" face, thinking: 'If I act like I'm meekly accepting the position I'm in, she'll let her guard down and it'll be easier for me to escape!'
Little did she know how wrong she was about that.
"The act doesn't fool me - I know the type of person you are. Lay her on her stomach - let's make sure she really doesn't go anywhere."
__________
Five minutes later, Grace had regretted ever sparing a second not screaming at the woman when she had the chance. Her hands were hogtied to her feet with less than three inches of space between her ankles and wrists - she could have easily grabbed the bottom of her shoes. More rope led from her ankles to where the rope around her chest circled her back, arching her front sharply so her shoulders were off the floor. The drained lemon, deep teeth marks in the top and bottom, lay on the floor next to her face, but had been replaced by both of Paul's dress socks, who had tried his best to look apologetic as the thick cotton socks, which had been in leather dress shoes the entire day and hadn't been washed in days ('Honestly, if she made me work fewer hours, I would have time to do laundry - so in a way it's her fault!') were removed and balled up before being shoved into Grace's mouth. She had barely had time to shriek a sudden "fuck y-mmmph" between the lemon being pulled out of her mouth and the socks being stuffed in, and the hand over her mouth was replaced just as quickly so she couldn't try and spit them out.
She was still screaming curses that were just death threats and promises of tortures and revenge, but only muffled grunts came out from behind the stuffing and handgag, and the "if looks could kill" eyes were taken a little less seriously when they were just above cheeks that puffed out and were turning red and had trails of run mascara down beneath them. The woman just smiled down at her.
"It doesn't seem," she said, "like you've realized who is in control in this room, and I'm almost out of ideas...god you're a loud one though!"
She moved over the Paul and whipped the pocket square out of his suit jacket with a flourish and walked over to Grace, who, at this point, was starting to get the memo. Her eyes widened just a little more as the woman loudly, almost violently blew her nose into the handkerchief-turned-tissue, balled it up and moved it towards Grace's face. The blonde woman shook her head, her icy blue eyes wide in disbelief as the hand over her mouth was removed and the handkerchief shoved inside of it. Grace mad an involuntary gargling noise as her mouth was packed full to the brim, with a little bit of stained handkerchief hanging out of the front. The woman poked and prodded at the end until satisfied it was full, took a handy roll of electrical tape from her pocket and started winding it brutally tightly around Grace's head and between her lips. The very stretchy and incredibly sticky tape formed a thick cleave gag that held Grace's mouth all the way open and was wrapped so tightly it dug into the corners of her lips.
"Okay, Grace. Try and call for help."
"Hmmmmphhhh," Grace moaned into the gag.
"No, do it like you mean it - do it like your friends are just outside the door."
"HMMMMMMPHHHH!" Grace's face turned red as she screamed as loud as she could, which barely made a sound at all.
"That'll do. Now, for the finishing touch..."
The woman took one more length of rope, which she handed to one of her accomplices. She leaned down and looked into Grace's eyes as the man used one end of the rope to tie her blonde hair into a tight ponytail.
"You know, eye contact is so important in business - I feel like you need a reminder." Grace moaned into her gag as the man pulled the rope attached to her hair and connected it to her feet, arching her back into a tight arc. Her eyes were forced to meet the woman's - the fight was nearly out of her, but, even with her mascara ruined, eyes red and cheeks bulging from the packing stuffed in her mouth, she was still glaring daggers at her captors, committing their faces to memory.
"Alright," the woman said, as she grabbed Grace's wrist and checked the time on her Rolex. "Looks like it's 1am and we should be getting out of here...I'm sure someone will be by in the morning for you too! In the meantime, here's a present." She laid one of the knives from the kitchen a few inches from Grace's face. Grace's eyes went wider - she could barely see the ground, her back was so arched, but she still got a flare of hope from it being so close.
"Hopefully you're able to grab that and cut yourself free by the time the morning shift comes in, because I'm sure the employees would love to see their boss like this. Even he is getting a kick out of it," she said, nodding towards Paul, still tied to his chair in the corner. She wasn't entirely wrong - he was feeling an odd satisfaction from seeing his controlling boss so humbled.
"Best of luck," the woman called as she and her accomplices left the room, tightly closing and locking the door. Grace immediately started rolling towards the knife, at least as much as her hogtie would allow. Paul watched, fascinated at the fight still in his boss - he had given a few tugs at the ties holding him to the chair and, discovering that they were too tight, had given up and resigned himself to waiting until morning.
Grace grunted into the gag as she finally rolled onto her side and her hands found the edge of the knife, and her thoughts of victory instantly turned sour as she realized it was just a disposable plastic knife and had no chance of cutting the rope free. That didn't stop her from spending the next fifteen minutes sawing away at the bonds between her wrists, finally giving a resigned moan into her gag as she felt the knife break. She attempted to lay her head on the floor, but the hairtie prevented her from even relaxing that much. There was a long night ahead of them.
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