Nicki's Self-Bondage Mishap
Carelessness costs Nicki dearly, and her first foray into the world of self bondage ends up lasting a lot longer than she intended.
Nicki peered over her shoulder from her position at the top of the stairs and gazed through the banisters at the carpeted hall below. There, unmistakably, was the small silver-coloured metal object that she had seconds earlier let slip through her fingers, and which now lay almost directly beneath her at a distance of approximately twelve feet. But those twelve feet might as well have been a million miles as far as Nicki was concerned, as there was no way that she could now retrieve the key, and there was no-one that she could blame for her plight but herself.
It had all started when nineteen year old Nicki had become curious about an item that she’d stumbled upon that belonged to her father (who happened to be a police officer) on Saturday morning. Her parents, together with her younger sister and brother, were away for the weekend and not due home until Sunday evening. Nicki, therefore, had the family home all to herself. On this spring morning, with nothing specifically planned for either that day or the next, she had been rummaging through a cupboard that she very rarely needed to visit, when she chanced upon the shiny metal handcuffs, complete with key. For several years now, Nicki had harboured thoughts that had been greatly troubling her; feelings that she had, until this moment, managed to suppress and keep buried deep within her subconscious. These feelings, therefore, had predominantly lain dormant within her, yet continued to break into her conscious mind at irregular intervals. Now though, this discovery proved to be the catalyst for these desires to force their way to the surface on a more permanent basis, and for her inhibitions to crumble. The deep longings she’d up to now managed to deny, or at least keep in check, suddenly overwhelmed her and she shivered with excitement at the arousal that these conjoined bracelets of steel stimulated.
It was only now, as she examined her new-found playthings with awe and fascination, that she could finally admit to herself that the ideas that had thrilled her since her early teens were fantasies about being bound, gagged, chained and held in helpless captivity by some evil fiend; only to be eventually rescued by some handsome knight in shining armour. And now, with the means to act out at least some of these desires at her disposal, the urge to imprison herself in the metal bracelets was just too great to resist.
With trembling hands, Nicki tried the key in the locks and then, satisfied that she would be able to release herself again, she gingerly placed her left wrist into one of the waiting cuffs and completed the entrapment of her hand. The clicking sound, as the ratchet mechanism shut fast, sent a thrill coursing up her spine. Quickly, she secured the other wrist in the vacant bracelet and within seconds was walking around the room waving her manacled hands in front of her, in a mock struggle for a freedom that was neither forthcoming not desired.
After maybe three minutes or so, however, Nicki began to tire of this. What she craved now was a more daring, and therefore more exhilarating, way of shackling her wrists together. She let herself out of the cuffs momentarily, before re-imprisoning herself again, this time struggling into their caress of steel with her hands behind her back. Once again she spent several minutes in this fashion, wandering around the house in a state of high excitement; experimenting with little, normally mundane tasks such as opening doors and switching on the television.
Eventually though, this too proved unsatisfying in her increasingly aroused state. What she hungered for were not merely handcuffed wrists, but full-blown bondage.
Removing the cuffs again (which proved slightly more difficult than it had when her hands were in front of her), Nicki hurried out to the garden shed and swiftly located the two items she sought: a reel of garden twine and a roll of heavy duty adhesive tape. Once back inside the house, she checked that all the doors and windows were shut and locked, as the last thing she wanted was for her secret to be discovered. Going upstairs, she removed her clothes until she stood in just her bra and panties, before sheathing her slender legs in a pair of sheer black tights. She finished off the ensemble by stepping into her highest heeled shoes, as she wanted to look as sexy as possible for the fantasies she had in mind. The next step was to strategically place a large mirror against the wall on the landing, in order to be able to observe herself during her struggles. Satisfied that this was positioned at the correct angle to capture her bound up form from the best possible angle, she was now ready to begin trussing herself up.
Firstly, Nicki unwound a length of the twine and tested its strength in her hands; smiling at the way it refused to stretch or snap. Cutting five long pieces from the reel (three of approximately nine or ten feet in length, and two slightly longer), she sat on the floor with her back to the post at the head of the stairs. Without undue haste, so as to ensure that she secured all the ligatures as tightly as she was able, Nicki bound her ankles to each other, then followed this by tying the second and third shorter lengths of twine, one just below her knees and the other just above. All three bonds were executed in identical fashion; being wound around her legs several times, then cinched and tied at the front as tightly as she could manage. With this exercise now complete, Nicki used the railings to lever herself up onto her feet and for a minute or two and hopped around on the landing; checking that no amount of friction would cause the twine to slip or the knots to come undone. Happy that her legs were now inescapably tied, she returned to her starting point.
Next, Nicki took a pair of tights and rolled them up into a tight ball, which she then forced into her mouth until they filled the cavity beyond. She then began to seal the tights in by covering her mouth with the thick, grey tape which, according to the packaging it came in, was waterproof and would stick to almost any surface with near permanence. Lifting her hair up, she began to wind the tape around her lower face and neck. Several circumnavigations of her head later, she tore the tape from the reel and pressed the whole mass down to ensure it adhered to her skin, taking extra care to make certain that there were no loose edges or corners that might be prone to peeling of their own accord. Looking in the mirror, Nicki observed a girl whose whole face from just below the nose downwards was swathed in grey tape. She tried pushing with her tongue at the tights, but found that they could not be propelled forwards, as her lips were now well and truly sealed. Experimental attempts to speak, or even scream, informed her that this was a very effective way of stifling sound.
The feel of the twine pressing into her legs, together with the strange sensation created by the clinging tape on her face, heightened Nicki’s resolve to complete her self-binding exercise as soon as she could. Without a pause, she wrapped the first of the longer pieces of twine around her waist, also encompassing the post behind her. Pulling this bond as tight as she could get it, she tied the final knot on her stomach. The final length of twine was used in similar manner, only higher up her torso. Starting below her breasts, she wound the cord around herself and the post three or four times, before encircling a similar number of coils above her breasts. Once again, the final knot was secured at the front, which would be out of reach once she had her hands cuffed as she planned. At this point, Nicki stopped momentarily to admire herself in the mirror. A tingling sensation rushed up her spine at the sight of her tethered legs and tape covered face; her shapely figure trembling with the joy of it all. She was now almost at the final stage of her scheme.
Originally, she’d contemplated wearing a blindfold, but then a dilemma had presented itself. How would she be able to see herself in the mirror? On the other hand, her bondage wouldn’t seem complete without some sort of sight restrictor in place. It was a toss-up, therefore, between watching herself writhe around, or remain sightless throughout. In the end she reached a compromise between the two, both of which held a certain fascination for her. She would retain her sight, but cover her head with a pair of tights. That way, she could still see herself through the mesh, albeit not as clearly as before, but would appear, in a sense, hooded. To this end, she pulled one leg of the tights - black to match the rest of her attire - over her hair and down as far as her neck, with the foot and lower leg allowed to dangle down the back of her head. The other leg she wrapped loosely around her neck.
Now the time had come to apply the most important bond of all. Still trembling with the anticipation of what she was about to do, Nicki clicked one of the cuffs down onto her left wrist until she was satisfied that it was tight enough to ensure that she wouldn’t be able to extricate her hand. Holding onto the key, she slipped her left hand through the railings and reached around behind the post. At the same time, she placed her right hand around behind her until it met its counterpart. For at least two minutes she struggled without success to insert her right wrist into the empty bracelet and push it shut. She hadn’t realized how difficult an operation this would be, but the thickness of the post served to restrict her arm movements and for a few gloomy seconds she feared that maybe this final obstacle would prove impossible to overcome. She refused to give up however, and suddenly, with a stifled groan of triumph and delight, she heard the clicks that informed her that she had been successful. Four further clicks of the ratchet ensured that this hand was now as trapped as the other. A quick jerk of her wrists and a twist of her hands confirmed it; her hands were now chained closely together behind a solid four inch wooden post, with her fingers well out of reach of her other bonds.
Now there was one last tricky operation to be undertaken before Nicki was ready for the fun to commence. The key to her eventual freedom was still being held between the thumb and index finger of her left hand. Her aim now was to transfer this tiny but oh so important object into the palm of her other hand. That way, if she kept her fist clenched tightly until such time as she required its services again, the key couldn’t be dropped. Carefully, she pressed the sliver of metal into the palm of her right hand and prepared to grasp it, whilst simultaneously releasing it from the left.
The following event happened so fast that Nicki was never totally sure of the exact circumstances surrounding the catastrophe. Was she so excited at the prospects of what lay ahead that her shaking hands were unable to coordinate correctly? Or had the battle to force the manacles shut around her wrists made her hands clammy to such an extent that she was unable to keep hold of the smooth slippery surface of the key? She had no definite answer to this conundrum, but knew that one second it was there and the next it was gone, leaving her clutching at thin air. A brief interval ensued, lasting only a fraction of a second but seeming much, much longer, before an almost inaudible dull sound from below signaled that Nicki’s worst fears had come to pass. For half a minute of more she was in a state of denial; refusing to believe what had just transpired. Her fingers desperately searched the few square inches of carpet they could reach before this gave way to thin air and the long drop to the ground floor below. Even once she’d admitted to herself that the key was no longer on the landing, the gravity of the event still failed to register fully. It was only as the minutes ticked by, as Nicki stared through a meshed haze in the direction of the fallen object in the hallway below, that the full significance of the failed transfer of the key from one manacled hand to the other became apparent, and she appreciated for the first time that she could neither get to the key, nor in any way get the key to come to her. In short, she was trapped. Once the penny had finally dropped, and she had discarded all the other impractical ways of getting free that she briefly entertained in her spinning head, her initial outburst of sheer panic bordered on the violent. Jerking and bucking her whole body, thrashing and straining at her bonds, slamming her wrists against the solid post, she laboured with increasing despair to extricate herself from her dire predicament…..but without success.
After exhausting herself and hurting her hands in the process, Nicki was forced to concede that there was no way out of this mess. Her next ploy was to shout and scream for all she was worth, but she’d already severely restricted this option’s chances of success by gagging herself so thoroughly and efficiently. She cursed herself in a loud but muffled voice. How could she have been so stupid?
Nicki’s parents, as she well knew, were not due home until late on the evening of the following day; after nine o’clock her mother had predicted. Until then, the house was hers and hers alone. At least she knew that rescue would come at that time, although the prospects of sitting handcuffed, bound and gagged in the same position for the best part of thirty six hours was less than enticing. And if she failed to find another way out, what then? How embarrassing that would be! Would her parents understand? Obviously, when they first encountered their elder daughter in all her bound up glory, they’d assume that she’d been the victim of some savage intruder, and would take pity on her. But when the truth became known, how would they react? How could she even begin to explain that she had tied and gagged herself up because the concept had thrilled her in unspeakable ways? They’d be utterly horrified that one of their offspring could be into such perverse activities. And what about her siblings? How much fun would they have at her expense when they found that their big sister was a bit kinky? As Nicki began to calm down somewhat from the initial shock of total helplessness, she explored the idea of going along with the intruder or burglar story.
But deeper analysis of this explanation proved it to be riddled with so many insurmountable problems that it simply wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny. Nicki’s father was, after all, a police officer and used to dealing with break-ins and suchlike. With all the windows and doors in the house locked from the inside, and no visible point of entry, how had the imaginary villain entered and exited the premises? And why, if burglary was the motive, was nothing missing, or even disturbed? And furthermore, how could she explain her state of dress? Or the mirror? Or the current resting place of the key? Or the mystery man’s knowledge of the location of her father’s set of handcuffs? Or the origin of the twine and tape, which would, under investigation, be found to have originated from the shed at the bottom of the garden? It was nigh on impossible to come up with plausible solutions to any of these inconsistencies; too many loose ends and gaping holes in this fantastic scenario for a seasoned detective like her father to be convince of its authenticity. Which meant that the only feasible explanation that she would be able to offer for the bind she was in, would be the true one. Mind you, she thought gloomily, by the time her parents found her, she would be so grateful to be released that what anyone else thought of her strange actions would be the least of her worries.
But in the meantime, was there anybody else who might conceivably be on hand to help her? She trawled the deep recesses of her mind, but could come up with no one. The milkman, postman and paperboy had already delivered this morning. There was no post or milk delivery on Sunday, nor did the family take a Sunday newspaper, so these three potential rescuers could be discounted. There was a chance that someone delivering leaflets or junk-mail through the letterbox might come to the door today, but this was a long-shot. And anyway, if anyone did approach the front door, she’d have very little time to react, seeing as how the first knowledge she would have of this unsuspecting person’s presence would be when the items being delivered dropped onto the mat and the letterbox snapped shut. By that time the deliverer would be halfway down the driveway and unlikely to be listening out for her muted cries for assistance. Only if this imagined visitor to the property was whistling loudly, or shuffling his or her feet to an exaggerated degree on the gravel outside, would she be alerted to their presence in time to start up the cacophony of noise needed to attract attention to her plight. This seemed most unlikely.
And that, as far as she knew, was that. The house was a reasonably large detached affair; the houses in the street being separated from each other by reasonably wide expanses of land on either side, so screaming to make her plight known to the neighbours was unlikely to bear fruit. She had invited nobody to the house, either today or tomorrow. She had made no definite arrangements to meet her friends or in any way socialize, saying only that if she felt like it she might see them in the pub on Saturday night. If she failed to appear, therefore, her friends were unlikely to think that anything was amiss. Likewise, if anyone phoned, the fact that they received no reply would hardly be likely to start alarm bells ringing. If they rang today, they’d probably imagine she was out shopping, if tonight they’d assume she was out on the town, and tomorrow, they’d conclude that she had gone out for the day somewhere. Therefore, having considered and then eliminated everybody that she could think of as a potential saviour, she was back to square one.
Nicki again looked down at the key (just visible through the mesh of her hood), almost willing it to levitate back up into her hands. Now she knew what real bondage felt like. She glanced at the mirror and saw a pair of stiletto shoes in the foreground, from which emerged black ensheathed legs that were forced to remain in close contact with each other due to securely wrapped twine at her ankles and knees. Then there was her torso; the black lingerie contrasting sharply with her lilywhite skin and the encompassing bonds that held her body rigidly to the post at her back. And then there was her head; covered entirely with a pair of black tights which squashed her nose and somewhat distorted her features, and lower down a swathe of grey tape covering her face from cheeks to chin. From beneath the makeshift hood, her long dark hair cascaded down over her shoulders. Around her neck, a gold chain - an eighteenth birthday present - hung, almost touching her shapely breasts which rose and fell in short bursts; informing her, if she needed any reminder, that her panic was only just being contained. The tops of her arms were visible, but from the elbows downwards they disappeared behind her back. Seemingly, out of the top of her head, sprang a sturdy post.
Nicki tried to stand by pushing herself up the pole, but the tightly bound ligatures around her chest and stomach made this act impossible. Even if she could have manoeuvred herself into a standing position, she knew that the horizontal handrail that ran at right angles to the pole to which she was tethered would prevent her from getting free. If only the post wasn’t so solid and unbreakable. If only she’d handcuffed herself to one of the thinner banisters that ran along the length of the landing and down the stairs. These, she guessed, would have been much easier to break if enough force was used. But of course she’d discarded these as possible binding points beforehand, considering them too flimsy. Her aim at that time had been to attain a state teetering on the brink of inescapability, without actually stepping over the edge. Unfortunately, she’d been careless and fallen headlong over the precipice into a chasm of no return.
Nicki stretched her legs out to within a couple of inches of the mirror and shifted her position on the floor as best she could, in order to alleviate some of the discomfort that sitting on the hard floor had brought to bear. How long had she been trapped here now? She had no real way of calculating the passage of time, but guessed that it must be an hour or so. One down, thirty five to go.
She’d been watching herself throughout the past few minutes, as she’d tried to raise herself to her feet, and had found herself transfixed by the helpless self image that stared back at her, mimicking – or was it mocking? – her. It was only when she began pulling – more in desperation than in hope – on her wrist restraints for seemingly the hundredth time, thus causing her shoulders in the reflection to wriggle and writhe, that Nicki realized that the embers of the fire that had burned so fiercely earlier, and had been responsible for the experimentation which had ultimately led to this grave state of affairs, was still smouldering within her. She thrust her bound body forward, simultaneously watching the mirrored image of herself and concentrating on the tightness of the bonds. To her amazement, a not unpleasant sensation coursed through her veins; the same thrill, it seemed, that had led her to tie herself up in the first place. To test this unusual and intriguing sensation, she began to struggle still harder, and the seeds of her arousal responded by building up into a crescendo that soon exploded into a tidal wave of ecstatic emotion, which totally engulfed her. It was amazing to think that the panic of a few minutes ago could turn into something so wonderful. All at once, Nicki didn’t give a damn that she was trapped. If she had to be tied here for the foreseeable future, then there was no use fretting about it. Given a choice between panicking and the accompanying futile struggle supplemented by unanswered futile screaming, or the supreme waves of pleasure that washed over her as she watched herself struggling and fantasized about her helplessness, then there was really no contest. Both amounted to the same physical actions, she realized, but it was her state of mind that brought either pleasure or panic to the fore. So why not take this opportunity to enjoy the whole experience? After all, it was her latent fascination with bondage that had brought her to this position, so why not make the most of it and to hell with the consequences. As a matter of fact, as Nicki sat there luxuriating in her bonds, she was actually grateful that she couldn’t get away. She was now enjoying herself so much that, in some ways, she was glad she’d dropped the key. Perhaps, she thought to herself, subconsciously she’d let go of it on purpose! She moaned loudly into her gag, but now the noise emitted stemmed not from any notion that she wanted to be heard and her freedom restored, but instead rose up involuntarily as her state of ecstasy reached new heights.
Throughout the daylight hours, and well into the evening, Nicki’s activities ebbed and flowed between peaks of indescribable pleasure and periods of contented rest. Although her stomach was rumbling through lack of food, and her mouth and throat were dry, she didn’t see the need for either drink or nourishment at present. Even when she could control her bladder no longer and wet herself in the late afternoon, the discomfort was minimal compared to her heightened state of arousal brought about by her complete inability to move. As the light faded, and Nicki’s image became ever dimmer in the mirror until it seemed to merge into the surrounding gloom, she finally fell asleep.
It took her a few seconds to remember where she was or how her ability to move was severely restricted, bur when she had woken sufficiently to recall the previous day’s events, her body tensed with fright. It was still dark, but the moon had now risen to cast its light through the window over the stairs, allowing her to see the faint reflection of her bound up form in the mirror. But her helplessness was only an indirect cause for her concern now, for somewhere below her - somewhere within the house it seemed - came the sound of someone or something moving around. Had her family returned early? No, it couldn’t be that, for, unless there had been a power failure, they’d have put the light on immediately they’d set foot inside. And anyway, they’d have made their entrance through the front door, which clearly whoever - or whatever -was down there hadn’t done. As she ran all the possible causes of the disturbance through her head, the sound of one of the downstairs doors creaking open reached her ears and provoked an involuntary squeal of fear from her packed and sealed mouth. Somewhere below, a dim beam of light seemed to be wandering along the hallway, accompanied by slow, cautious footsteps.
It was at this juncture that Nicki realized that the theoretical story she’d concocted for her parents regarding the intruder, which she’d invented and then dismantled earlier, could now be turning into a real, and therefore usable, explanation for the predicament in which she found herself. Assuming, of course that the intruder didn’t kill or abduct her first! She looked down to where the beam illuminated the lower stairs. The realization that this uninvited visitor was about to discover her, corresponded exactly with the sound of his foot on the bottom step. Another simultaneous occurrence was their first glimpse of each other, as Nicki’s tights-covered head stopped him in his tracks just as his balaclava covered face, with slits for eyes and mouth, produced another whimper from the helpless woman.
His voice trailed off into nothing as the strangeness of his discovery sunk in. Shining the torch beam into her face, he slowly approached; blinding her in the process. By the time that he had reached the second from top step, he’d had enough time to realize that this strange vision was indeed real, and no threat to him whatsoever. His confidence returned.
“Well, well, looks like someone has saved me a job here.”
The blinding glare from the torch made it impossible for Nicki to properly inspect her guest, other than to deduce that he was dressed from head to toe in either black or very dark clothing. Without another word, he stepped over her outstretched legs and quickly opened each door that lead off the landing, shining his torch briefly into each room. Once he was satisfied that there was no one else in the house, he switched on the landing light, causing Nicki to momentarily close her eyes as the brightness blinded her. Once her normal vision had returned, Nicki found the terrorist style hood within inches of her face, as he crouched inquisitively over his helpless discovery. Although only his eyes and mouth were visible to her, it was obvious that he was utterly bewildered by the odd scenario he had just walked in on. For several seconds neither of them spoke; he too confused, she too frightened to even contemplate communicating. Eventually, however, after what seemed like an eternity, Nicki plucked up the courage to begin an attempted dialogue; reasoning that, just possibly, she could win not only his sympathy, but also her freedom. Just because he’d broken into their house, she figured, didn’t mean he wasn’t a human being with feelings. Perhaps he’d take pity on her and retrieve the key if she was lucky. Just as she began to mumble her plea for compassion, however, he too broke his silence.
“Who did this to you? Has someone already broken in here tonight?”
Nicki shook her head, having discovered that speaking with any degree of clarity was even more difficult than she’d imagined.
“Then who?” he persisted.
But she didn’t need to answer. It seemed all at once that he cottoned on to the fact that her plight was self inflicted.
“You did this to yourself?”
He laughed loudly and coarsely, which Nicki took to be a bad omen.
“You did, didn’t you? You tied yourself up and now you can’t get out”
More laughter followed.
Nicki knew that she had to begin pleading now.
“Please help me. The key’s fallen through the railings. I can’t get out of this!”
How much of this could actually be deciphered into English, Nicki wasn’t entirely sure, so in an attempt to illustrate her predicament she turned her head and looked - for the thousandth time since yesterday morning, it seemed - over her shoulder, hoping that he’d follow her gaze and catch the drift of what had occurred.
“Please get the key and unlock these”
She rattled the handcuffs and again stared into his face, her obscured eyes pleading for salvation from her bonds. As their eyes met, the true nature of the situation seemed to dawn on him and he grinned mischievously at her.
“You handcuffed yourself to this post, then dropped the key, didn’t you?”
Nicki nodded sorrowfully. As she did so he stood up from his crouched position.
“And now you want me to get you out of the mess you’ve got yourself into, uh?”
Nicki’s reply came out in long drawn out whine, as sad and pathetic as she could make it. Even beneath his disguise, she could make out the amused look on his face. Was this a good sign, or a bad one? Would he cooperate? Or would he just leave her trussed up here? Or worse, would he take advantage of her helplessness?!
For what seemed like ages, he seemingly mulled over the problem in his mind, although Nicki guessed that he was actually just prolonging the process to tease her. At last he spoke.
“Okay, if that’s what you want, I’ll give you the key.”
As he descended the stairs Nicki’s hopes rose. The fact that he hadn’t taken her gag out, nor made any move to untie her other bonds had been, she assumed, a sign that he wasn’t prepared to help her. Now, however, things were most definitely looking up. Over her shoulder, she watched him as he bent down, then straightened up again and examined the small metal object that she hoped would soon be used to restore her freedom. He seemed to be taking an eternity to study it. Come on, she thought, it’s just a key, haven’t you seen one before? But of course she knew he was toying with her; enjoying the suspense he was creating and knowing full well that he was in complete control of the situation…and her.
After what seemed like a geological age, he finally turned and casually strolled back along the hall and made his way slowly upwards; holding the key prominently in front of him, to let her know he had found it. Again he crouched down at her side. Holding it up to her mesh-covered face, he offered the small silver coloured key to her.
“Is this what you want?”
A show of yellow teeth indicated a huge grin on his otherwise masked face. Once more Nicki let out a long, pleading moan that she hoped would convey her great suffering and helplessness to such a degree that he would take pity on this damsel in distress.
“Okay, here it is. Take it.”
Although she knew it was a pointless exercise, Nicki found herself trying to lunge forward in a desperate effort to get as close to the key as she could; a move that produced an outburst of spiteful laughter from her tormentor. All of a sudden, Nicki’s optimism didn’t seem quite so well founded.
Once his cackling laugh had subsided, he studied her again, as if torn between letting the poor creature before him get loose, or leaving her here helplessly bound and gagged in this predicament of her own making. Suddenly though, an idea seemed to occur to him and his eyes lit up. Before Nicki could take in what was happening, his hands were fumbling around the back of her neck, unclasping her gold chain. Her first thought was that he was robbing her; an action that was distressing enough to cause another plea for leniency to issue from behind her gag. But then, as she watched with trepidation, the true reason for his actions became plain. Instead of stuffing his prize into one of his pockets, he was holding the chain out in front of her and threading the key onto it with great ceremony. Then the chain was quickly returned to her neck and within seconds was once more fastened in its former position.
“There, you’ve got what you asked for. Now go ahead and release yourself.”
He rose to his full height and laughed again.
“Did you really think I was going to let you go, after having broken into your house? What would there be to stop you calling the cops the minute I left, eh? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some collecting to do.”
In a state of total shock, Nicki watched as he went from room to room, emerging back onto the landing every few minutes with jewelry and other items of value. These he packed into a large black hold-all bag that he’d left close to the bound up woman’s feet. As some of her most treasured possessions, as well as those of her family, began to fill the bag, Nicki fought in vain to get at the key. She tried rubbing her neck against the post, in a forlorn attempt to break the chain and allow the key to drop into her lap. But it was hopeless; there was nothing on the smooth, painted post to snag the links on and thus force them apart. And even if she’d succeeded, the chances were that the key, now dangling tantalizingly between her breasts, would have fallen into her lap and become wedged between her thighs, from whence it would be impossible to manoeuvre it into her hands. She cast her eyes downwards at the thin silver object, contrasting with the bright gold of the chain from which it now hung suspended, resting snuggly in her cleavage. It was now less than twelve inches from her face, as opposed to the twelve or so feet away that it had previously lain. Yet it made no difference. As far as she was concerned it might as well have been twelve thousand miles away, as she had no more chance of using that key now than she’d had for the past eighteen hours or so.
Having taken all he desired, her hooded visitor picked up his haul and began his descent of the stairs. Three or four steps down, he stopped and turned; his head now level with hers. For a second their eyes met, and Nicki tried one last time to convince him that setting her free would result in her eternal gratitude being bestowed upon him. Not only that, but maybe, if he did free her, she could talk him out of making off with her family’s treasured possessions. But it was not to be. Despite her muffled pleas for leniency, his parting words were short and to the point.
And with that he turned and continued down into the hallway. Once he reached ground level, the torch beam shone out once more, followed immediately by the landing light being extinguished. Moments later, a few indistinct sounds were quickly followed by a window slamming shut. Then all was dark and silent.
Nicki was once more alone and helpless, with only around half her sentence served. Whether she should laugh or cry she wasn’t entirely certain. On the one hand, she now had a really good explanation for her predicament, although there were still a few minor details to figure out, such as the mirror and her attire. On the other hand was the loss of so many of her prized possessions; maybe not worth much in real terms, but of enormous sentimental value to her nonetheless. Still, at least she had managed to keep her gold necklace.
As the first notes of the dawn chorus drifted in to the house, and the light crept through the window to reveal clearly her mirror image on the other side of the landing, Nicki consoled herself with the knowledge that if she could recreate the same wonderful feelings that she’d experienced yesterday - a direct consequence of her extreme state of bondage - then at least the coming hours would bring her some compensation...