(An older story of mine that I felt was worth sharing. Pretty standard damsel-in-distress story, but I think still holds up. Hope you enjoy!)
29 year old Jenna is sitting in the studio, doing some last minute editing on the next episode of her podcast, It Happened Today (an informal current events program). She’s stayed in late this evening, even the janitors have gone home already. The days are shorter now, and the sun has been down for several hours. She’s so absorbed in her work that she’s failed to notice it’s after 10:00 PM. It’s also why she isn’t phased to hear someone knock on the door this late.
“Hey…” she responds absently. She continues to work on editing, and is so absorbed that it takes her several seconds to realize her visitor hasn’t spoken a word. When she tries to turn around, a hand clamps over her mouth and an arm pins her to the chair.
“Mmmmph???” she exclaims. She’s addressed by a gruff voice of a woman. She can see she’s wearing a ski mask in her peripheral vision.
“I love your voice, Jenna, but now you must be quiet.”
Jenna’s eyes go wide as her assailant pulls out a thick roll of grey duct tape.
Her assailant is wearing blue nitrile gloves, the force of the rubber against her face makes it impossible to speak.
“If I take away my hand, can I trust you won’t scream?”
Jenna thinks, and nods.
“Good girl,” the woman compliments. She removes her hand from Jenna’s mouth so she can begin tearing a strip from the roll. The tape is very loud and sticky, reverberating in the small space. Before she even realizes it’s happening, she feels the strip firmly plastered over her face. She lets out a reflexive grunt. Two more are placed on, one under her nose and another right above her chin. Her captor takes great pains to ensure it’s nice and smooth, tightly sealing her lips together.
“Hands behind your back,” the woman orders, and Jenna obeys. She isn’t at all gentle, rapidly wrapping multiple layers around her wrists brutally tight. In less than five minutes, she’s bound her ankles, knees, stomach, and shoulders to the office chair (very slowly feeling Jenna’s body for the latter parts), and also duct tapes her lap down to the chair’s seat. Her maroon button-up sweater is now covered in multiple silver stripes. Jenna tries to open her mouth, but the wide strips of the sticky tape restrict any freedom of movement. Her captor rotates her chair around and grins malevolently at her work.
Jenna’s assailant eyes her up and down, making sure she’s nice and secure. She grips her chin, and Jenna starts breathing heavily through her nose as her captor smiles at her through her mask. The gloved hand on her chin and rubbing under her shirt around her breasts gives her the shivers.
“You look so pretty with duct tape on your mouth,” she says, and Jenna’s heart sinks. And then she starts to feel the chair roll out of the office. She’s dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of this woman to trot her out in plain sight.
“Hmmph mmmph! Hmmph mmmph,” Jenna yells through the sticky tape coating her face. But it’s no use, the office is empty. She tugs at her wrist bonds, but the duct tape has become too gnarled to find a clear place where the strip begins and ends. Jenna lets out several more emphatic grunts, hoping that someone is left in the building, but it’s all in vain.
Eventually they exit the office suite and the woman rolls her victim down the hall to the elevator. She pushes the button, and while they wait, Jenna hears the duct tape unrolling and tearing, and the next thing she knows her sight is gone. The woman rips another strip and pastes it over her eyes, smoothing it over tightly. The ding of the elevator sounds and she’s rolled inside. Jenna feels the car descend, and when they begin moving again the reverberating sounds of the chair suggests that they’re in the parking garage. She desperately hopes that someone will see and intervene or call the police, but when they stop and she hears a car trunk open, her heart drops below sea level. Her captor grunts and hoists the chair in the air and gently sets her down inside the trunk. She feels an blanket drape over her, itchy but will protect her from the cold, thank goodness for small mercies.
“Sleep well, my dear Jenna,” and shuts the hatch. The car begins to move, and Jenna begins another furious attempt to escape her bonds.
Despite the thick blanket and her sweater still on, Jenna feels intensely cold. She wishes she’d just left her jacket on back in the office, as she would have been taped to the chair in something warmer. When the car pauses at stoplights, she lets out several muffled screams in the hope that maybe someone on a bike or motorcycle (or just some random passerby) will hear her. But no such luck yet. She worries that this will only tire her out. She moves her head about blindly, searching for some kind of edge that she can rub her face against and get the duct tape off her mouth. The office chair has anchored her in place though, making it prohibitively difficult to move in the little space she has.
And to put it crassly: she’s fucking terrified. She doesn’t have much interest in true crime, but she’s having a difficult time imagining someone being abducted from their office and tossed in the trunk of a car without foul play being involved. She’s tired herself out and the duct tape pulls on the hairs of her wrists harshly, but she has to find some last bit of strength in the reservoir to find a way out. She squirms violently and her “mmmphs” fill the small trunk space, and suddenly she becomes concerned that her captor can hear her struggles in the front seat. And then the car begins to slow down, and Jenna has a guess that this means they’re closing in on their destination. Her struggles intensify, but she knows deep down that she’s lost this battle. But not the war, she reminds herself, but not the war.
Then the car slows to a crawl and Jenna hears a garage door open. She’s out of breath, inhaling and exhaling heavily through her nose. Between the tape, chair, sweater and blanket, her body feels like a twisted mess. The garage door closes and an image of a sealed tomb pops into her mind, and she feels the lump in her throat metastasize into tears.
The light squeak of the trunk opening fills her ears and cool air hits her body. She can feel her captor’s gaze over her body. The seconds drag, and after she’s disentangled from the blanket, she’s hoisted back into the air. She has a moment for an image of Cleopatra being lifted in a sedan, and she’s puzzled that she should think of such an odd thing at a time like this.
The trip is short, her chair is rolled across the concrete floor, lifted into the air as a door opens, and then begins rolling again across what sounds like a hardwood floor, which eventually gives way to the muffled sounds of soft carpet. Another pause, and then Jenna can feel the body heat of someone in front of her. A hand begins to gently peel away the tape on her eyes, which has already started to give way from her tears. Once she adjusts to the light, she’s surprised to discover that she’s in a perfect average looking living room, with an ordinary woman meeting her gaze. Late 30’s, brown hair, prominent cheekbones. And then she notices a full roll of duct tape on the coffee table.
”Mmphm mphphmphgmph!” Jenna screams. She surprises herself with this muffled outburst, but her captor appears unfazed. She only smiles, stands up, and walks behind Emmy. A set of hands grab her breasts and caress them gently. She breathes heavily through her nose and squirms in her seat.
“So good…” the voice behind her muses.
The woman smiles. It’s the smile of someone who’s regarding this whole situation very very differently from Jenna. She almost looks…. as if she’s in love. And then she plants a kiss on Jenna’s duct taped lips. When she leans back, her face is utterly aglow, the look of someone who’s wanted something for very long time and has finally had their deepest wish fulfilled. She picks up the roll of duct tape from the coffee table, and for some reason Jenna has a horrifying certainty that she’s going to tape her nose shut.
”Mhmph! Mhmph! Mhmph! Mphmphph mphmm mmm!!!” Jenna shrieks. Her captor looks almost startled by this outburst and leans down to embrace her in a tight hug.
“Oh, forgive me, Jenna. I don’t want to hurt you,” she says soothingly. She is strangely comforted by this, and starts to feel more secure that this individual is benign. Whatever issues this woman has, at least she gives good hugs.
What happens next though is still unnervingly strange. The woman retrieves her roll of duct and tears off a wide strip, stretching it tightly across her own mouth.
”Gmphphm mmm?” she asks. Jenna just stares at her in confusion. The woman laughs into the duct tape and rips off another strip, placing it on top of the first. Finally she rips off a third and smooths it down lovingly over the first two.
“Mmg mphphmph mmg m mmm mmm mmphp mmm mmphphmph…” she purrs seductively through the tape. She grabs Jenna in another embrace and presses her duct taped lips against hers.
“Mmmmm….” she says in pleasure. Jenna tries to be a good sport, trying to at least enjoy the hug.
The woman continues to press her duct taped mouth against Jenna’s, savoring every moment. Finally, after perhaps 10 minutes, she has her fill and slowly peels away the tape from her own lips.
“Oh yes, so good…” she muses. She kisses Jenna on the forehead. “Need anything?” she asks. Jenna shakes her head. Her captor exits the living room and into the kitchen. She returns with a bottle of brown liquid.
The woman looks at Jenna and holds the bottle up in an offering gesture, but she lightly shakes her head to decline. The woman shrugs and smiles. Jenna thinks it’s a shame that this woman has committed a felony, because she otherwise seems like quite a nice person.
The woman lays on the couch with her beverage of choice and turns on the television. After a few minutes of flipping through the channels, she settles on Bob’s Burgers. Jenna likes that show a lot and she starts to feel a bit cheered up. She hears Tina Belcher say, “I’m no hero. I put my bra on one boob at a time like everyone else” and begins laughing hysterically through the duct tape, and the woman gazes at her, smiling. Jenna feels a slight relief, she’s uncomfortable after being taped up in this chair for nearly three hours now, but things don’t seem as hopeless after laughing a bit. She’s tired, though, and she nods off without realizing it.
Jenna slowly opens her eyes, she feels confused for a moment but then realizes where she is. Her captor is asleep on the couch… and the container of whatever liquor she was drinking is nearly empty. Bingo. She fears the retribution that may be in store for her if this fails and she gets caught, but she isn’t sure when an opportunity like this will come again, and means to take advantage of this one.
She darts her eyes toward the fireplace and there’s a poker. And as if by divine providence, the pointy end of it is directed upward in the rack. Being taped to the chair’s back is going to make using her hips to move the chair forward very difficult, but she gives it a try and the chair rolls about a half inch. The wheels will move over the carpet, but the lack of traction available makes it extremely challenging. Still, she somehow makes it work. It’s grueling and tedious, and she’s often unsure if the chair is really moving at all, but she slowly inches toward the mantle. There are several close calls; the chair lightly bumps into the coffee table a few times, making a light but audible knocking sound, and she catches herself making soft grunting noises as she attempts to thrust her hips forward to make the chair move. Finally, she arrives at the mantle. The tricky part is positioning the chair to close to the rack, but once she does, all she needs to do is spin the seat around so her wrist bonds can reach the poker. She slowly grabs the shaft of the tool, very carefully- knowing that if she drops it, this whole escape attempt is kaput.
Jenna cranes her head as much as she can so she can see what she’s doing, but it’s not enough. She’s going to have to use guesswork and her best judgement on this one. Her palms have started to sweat, making this operation all the more precarious. She nearly drops it (just as she begins to stick the point of the poker through the small gap between her wrists and the tape), but regains purchase of it at the last second. At first her heart sinks, because the layers of tape are just too thick for the poker to cut through.
”Mphmm mgmph…” she grunts. Five minutes pass, then ten, fifteen, thirty. No progress. A lump has slowly been forming in her throat and she eventually feels the tears in her eyes well up. She stops to take some deep breaths through her nose to regain her composure. She turns her gaze toward her captor, who is still sound asleep on the couch. There’s still time, she tries to remind herself. But she lets her eyes wander to one of the windows and begins to feel panicked; the faintest traces of morning light are shining through the window. This window of opportunity surely won’t last much longer.
She furiously rubs her taped wrists against the point. Several more minutes pass, and she nearly considers giving up the entire venture, when she finally feels something loosen. It takes at least another ten minutes, but the duct tape gradually begins to unravel from Jenna’s wrists. Finally, after more than an hour of struggle, they’re free. She slowly peels the duct tape from her mouth, which stubbornly clings to her face as she rips it off. It feels good to take a big gulp of air through her mouth.
She continues to work quickly but quietly removing the remaining bonds. Again, it’s a long and tedious process. The tape is thick and twisted, making it near impossible at times to tear it apart. But with a little perseverance and elbow grease, she pulls it off. The woman is still sound asleep when Jenna finally steps out of the chair for the first time in nearly 10 hours. She eyes the roll of duct tape and briefly considers taking revenge, but decides she’s too tired. Not worth it. Jenna is so exhausted that she doesn’t even notice the strips of tape still hanging from her arms and legs. She walks toward the front door and tries to mentally work out how she’s going to explain to a generous motorist that she’s just escaped from being kidnapped and needs a ride home.
Abduction of a Podcaster (F/F)
Jenna must have been REALLY tired, understandable after this ordeal. Because to 'turn the tables,' as she had the opportunity to do, must have been SO tempting!
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silvertejp590
- Centennial Club
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Yeah, sometimes the physical exhaustion is just too much even when the opportunity for some sweet revenge presents itself
Sounds very tempting though, thinking about adding a little more to this at some point…
