Agent 38: A DID Spy Thriller (Various)

[BobaFettish1]

Chapter One: “Inescapable”
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Look, this isn’t my first rodeo. (Yeah, I’ve been hogtied a few times. Pun intended.) I’ve been tied up more times than I can count, and in about as many ways as you can imagine. Being captured and bound & gagged by the bad guys is just part of the job. But today isn’t a “business as usual” kinda day. Whoever tied me up this time did a damn fine job with these ropes. I would actually be impressed if it wasn’t for the fact that I can’t move. Like, at all. The only plus is I’m wearing a really cute outfit, so at least I look good under all this all this rope.

Being in this line of work is dangerous, but when you’re a woman, especially a red-haired, blue-eyed, long-legged, drop-dead-gorgeous lady like myself(Not that I mean to brag.), the danger can be dialed to eleven. Beauty can be as much of a curse as it is a blessing. And when you’re a female doing what I’m doing, you’re in 10 times more danger than those of the opposite sex. When you’re a woman, the bad guys don’t JUST want to kill you, and that complicates things. That doesn’t mean being “cute” is without it’s advantages. People in general will underestimate you, and any man would sell his soul to have five minutes with you in bed. That fact can come in handy sometimes. But all of that is irrelevant to my current confining situation.

So, how exactly did I come to be as trussed up and helpless as I am now, you ask?

I had been deep undercover for a little over three months “working” for a mob boss in Rome. The fat, disgusting Italian has a thing for red heads, and my real boss needed an inside man(woman) to siphon intel from the mob. You don’t need to know the details, but long-story-short I happened to be outside my employers office when I heard him talking about me to one of his goons. He spoke of his suspicion of me after I slipped up one night during my nightly routine(again, long story). Now he was on to me, but he probably wouldn’t make a move just yet. I was sure if I showed up for work tomorrow I’d be met with a plethora of questions, and probably a few AKs pointed in my direction.

I had roughly 12 hours to play with. I wouldn’t waste time contacting my CO. Home base wouldn’t be expecting any contact from me for another week and a half. I’d slip out of town, get to the safe house and lay low for a while. It was simple and easy... But I’m an idiot.

My biggest mistake, I now realize, was deciding to go back to my apartment. I wanted to grab some changes of clothes and some of my gear. I knew it was risky if I was being tailed, but I didn’t detect anyone monitoring my movement. I had enough time to get my stuff and get out, or at least that’s what I thought.

I made it to the apartment building, got in through my back window using the fire escape, and did a quick sweep of my three rooms. No cameras, listening devices or signs of anyone watching. The coast was clear.

I began nervously and quickly packing a bag with everything I might need over the next few days. Once done, I decidided I needed a quick change of clothes. Through all my rushing I had seemingly forgot I was wearing a very shiny, and very skimpy cocktail dress(part of the dress code of my now-former occupation). This wouldn’t be proper traveling attire. I needed something subtle enough to blend into any crowd, but practical enough to benefit me in any situation. I had no idea if this night was going to provide me with a boring train ride or an intense fight for my life(or both).

So I choose wisely;

Since it was a bit chilly outside I knew I needed something to keep me warm that could also help conceal my identity.

First, I put on a simple white halter top. It was made of silky smooth material with lace at the top & bottom and thin shoulder straps.

I then covered it with a grey sweater. The sweater was thick and warm, had a short tail, (very)long sleeves, and thin, dark blue horizontal stripes covering it.

I then chose a pair of blueish-black skinny jeans and tucked them into my favorite pair of boots. The boots are dark brown leather with buckles on the sides and a zipper on their backs. They start just above my knees with a flared tongue and end with sharply rounded toes and two stiletto heels.

I then wound my long red hair into a messy bun on top of my head and covered it with my black beanie. I added sunglasses, a maroon scarf, and my dark brown leather jacket.

Yeah, maybe it was a bit much, but I like to look good even when I’m trying not to be seen. Plus, the outfit filled me with confidence and made me feel sexy.

I then slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the window. Still, no one was around and I slipped down the fire escape and into the alleyway below. I was home free... Or so I thought.

Not many people can sneak up on me. But these guys were good. Really good. I still don’t know where they came from, but the next thing I know I’m on the ground. One of the thugs had clocked me in the back of the head with something hard. I saw stars for a brief second, then quickly regained my awareness. Three approaching from behind. Two coming up in front. I was seriously outnumbered, but there was no way they were going to take me as easily as they thought they were.

Being on my hands and knees just further sold the idea of me being completely helpless and unable to defend myself. The truth, as they soon found out, was quite the contrary.

I quickly jammed my foot out and backwards and my sharp Stiletto heel impaled itself into one of the assailant’s shins. As he cried out in pain I quickly rose up into a hand stand kicked two other dudes who had lunged to grab me. After a quick dismount I was back on my feat and in fighting stance. The remaining thugs just stood there, stunned that half of their group had been so quickly dispatched by some weak-looking little girl. I stood my ground and prepared my self for another attack. It could be fists, or bullets, or both. It didn’t matter. I was ready for anything.

Well, almost anything.

I heard it before I felt it. The distinctive buzz of a taser. It’s a sensation I’m all too familiar with. I’ve even been know to shake off a taser or two back in the day. But this is different. Way different. Some kind of supercharged taser that doles out the worst pain I’ve ever felt. And I’ve felt a lot of pain. I was instantly on the ground writhing with pain. Even after the tasing stopped I could feel myself blacking out. I tried to drag myself to my feet, but all my energy had (literally) been zapped. I struggled to keep conscious but my eyes kept slamming closed. I tried to yell to perhaps attract attention from the upstairs neighbors, but the wind had been knocked from my lungs. I heaved one more time to try and get on my feet, then I heard a laugh. A familiar laugh.

My former employer was above me, on another fire escape. It wasn’t hard to figure out that this was all a setup. The mobsters had somehow staked out my apartment without me knowing. By coming home I’d fallen directly into their trap. I’ve slipped up before, but this was a doozy. My (current) worst enemy had exactly what he wanted right in from of him; me. One more maniacal cackle from that piece of human garbage, and then he pulled the trigger again. The second wave of electricity hit me like a freight train, but it only hurt for a second. Then... nothing.

And now here I am. Wherever “here” is. After finally regaining at least some consciousness I’ve had a chance to look around. I’m surrounded by concrete walls, pipes, cobwebs, piles of trash, and puddles of... who knows what. Am I in a basement? Or a sewer? The only thing I know for sure is that I’ve never been here before. I had been into every nook and cranny of the boss’ compound (unbeknownst to him) and I knew it backwards and forwards. Wherever I was currently being held prisoner, it was unfamiliar. And if I’m ever going to find a way out of here I’m going to have to get familiar with this place; fast.

Glancing around I only see more refuse littering the floor, and then, off in the distance... a door... with a lock on it. Damn. Even if I do get out of this, getting through a giant steel door is going to be problematic. But that’s the least of my worries right now.

Oh, did I mention that I’m tied up?

Like, really, really, REALLY tied up.

Sure, I’ve been restrained, captured, and imprisoned tons of times. Handcuffed to pole? Check. Hogtied and thrown into the trunk of a car? Double check. Tied spread eagle on a bed with nothing on but...?

Yeah, you get the picture.

I thought I’d experienced it all, until today. Whoever did my rope work is truly an artist. And just trying to move a smidge reminds me that it’s also really effective.

And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a tiny bit afraid that I won’t be able to escape this one.

Let’s start from the top, shall we:

First, my hands are bound together with more than a few turns of thick rope. With my wrists very much secured together parallel to each other, they are pulled high above my head and attached to more rope that is connected to a steel beam directly above my head. My hands are stretched so high that my arms are perfectly straight and very close together. Apparently the douche bag who made me like this thought it would be amusing to also tie my elbows together as well. Several rounds of rope encircle my arms just below my elbows and are cinched together in a knot directly behind my head.

I have also been stripped of my outerwear. My hat, sunglasses, scarf and jacket are gone. Now I’m only left with my grey sweater, which is thankfully comfy and warm. And I need that, because my surroundings are anything but that. Another bonus was that the sleeves of my sweater were long enough that they went beyond my wrists and partially covered my hands. Since my captors hadn’t bothered rolling up my sleeves before trussing me up, the rope had been applied to my sleeved wrists, which helped them to not cut into my skin as much(Even though they still did). Unfortunately, because of my outstretched arms, my sweater has been pulled up a significant amount from where it had been tucked into my jeans, revealing a bit of my white halter top, along with my completely bare stomach and belly button.

Struggling, or even the slightest basic movements are pretty much impossible. And the chilly air hitting my sensitive belly is making me shiver.

Also, I can’t talk. In fact, I couldn’t even make a sound to save my life.

There’s a firm rag imbedded in mouth, filling my jaw, cheeks, and so far back in my throat it’s nearly choking me. On top of that is a knotted bandana, tucked neatly between my teeth and holding back the rag that I wish I could spit out. Oh, and they didn’t stop there. On top of all that is a giant, white handkerchief that covers everything from the bridge of my nose all the way down to under my chin.

Aside from a few little squeals and grunts I’ve been completely silenced. Yelling for help isn’t an option.

Not that asking for assistance has ever really been my thing anyway. Although in this situation I’d be willing to swallow my pride and accept help from anyone willing to give it... Yeah, I’m that desperate.

Oh, and I haven’t even gotten to the “fun” part of my bondage experience.

Through all that I’d almost forgotten that I’m actually sitting down. It’s a basic wooden chair, nothing fancy, but obviously well made. From what little I can feel of it I can tell it’d be really hard to break against a wall or something. And that’s if I could even get my feet on the floor(yeah, we’ll get to that).

There is a vast web of ropes across my entire chest that is attached to the chair, securely pinning my back to it. The rope was expertly woven over, under and between my breasts, so much so that it’s actually kinda comfortable. There is also several lengths of rope encircling my waist, and a few across my lap stopping me from even thinking about separating my ass from this seat.

Now let’s talk about my legs.

Now I’ve been tied to a chair before. Usually it’s something simple. Ankles fastened together with rope, duct tape, or occasionally chains. Maybe some rope above and below the knees too. It’s simple to tie, and also simple to get out of.

But no, not this time. Apparently my current captor likes to spice things up, and he saved the best for my lower half.

Now, I’ll give him credit; he left my boots on. More than a few times I’ve had creeps take off my shoes(and socks) while at their mercy. Thankfully, this guy let me keep my footwear this time, and I’m grateful because; A.) It’s freezing in here and I’d probably be hypothermic by now with exposed feet. And B.) This is my favorite pair of over-the-knee boots and I’d hate to lose them.

More of the same rope that that was used on my wrists and torso was applied to my ankles several times over. My still booted feet were bound up individually and knotted tightly. Then my legs were spread wide, reaching for each of their respective sides of the chair. But instead of simply being tied off to the front leg of the chair, each of my legs was bent further backwards along the sides of the chair, just under the seat. So far, actually, that my feet barely touched the floor. I could only get the very tip of the toe of my boots to actually make contact with the floor. My tied ankles were then secured to back of chair, knotted just above the seat, with only a few inches of rope separating my stiletto heels from the chair back. This meant that my legs were permanently forced into a very awkward(and painful) scissored position. My knees ached from the constant pressure. I could barely feel my toes from the ropes cutting off my circulation. And the leather of my boots squeaked and squealed with every tiny move I tried to make.

So here I am, locked in a dark, dirty room. My hands tied extremely high and tightly above my head. My body bound to a heavy chair. My legs securely attached to the sides of said chair. And so well gagged I can barely breath, much less utter any words.

I’m going to get out of this... right?

I mean, every time I’ve been tied up in the past I got out. Every time I ended up in the clutches of the bad guys I was able to turn the tables on them. Every time things worked out in my favor.

But deep down I know this is different. I know there isn’t going to be an easy getaway this time. As I tug at the ropes once more, as I feel all my limbs go numb, as I shiver once more in the cold, damp air, I realize I have to accept my fate for once. There’s no sense in trying to deny it...

I know this is inescapable.

And now I hear... voices? Coming from beyond the door. One of the voices sounds more than familiar.

Yup. My former employer has come to check on me. Or torture me. Or kill me. Or worse.

I didn’t want to believe it, but I can’t deny how much the odds are stacked against me here.

Could this really be the end of Agent 38?

[Deleted User 2162]

Let’s hope not cuz that was a damn good story.

[TamatoaShiny123]

I’m on the edge of my seat! Can’t wait to see what they do to Agent 38!

[BobaFettish1]

Thanks for the positive feedback, guys! Chapter 2 *IS* on the way, and it’s going to be a lot of fun!

[Solarbeast]

This is yet another interesting idea, from another relatively new poster, that I am glad you decided to share with us. I am interested to find out who decides to help out Agent 38 and what happens in the next few chapters.

[BobaFettish1]

Chapter Two: “Fear From The Past”
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Fear.

Fear is a villain’s most powerful ally.

Yeah, I know it sounds like some cliché quote from a cheesy movie, but it’s true to life.

Fear can bring the strongest person to their knees. Fear can manipulate the most intelligent mind. Fear is an incredible tool, and the worst people know exactly how to use it.

The greatest danger that I now face is not the evil man knocking at the door to my cell, nor any of his goons that would end my life without hesitation. It isn’t even the ropes that presently bind every part of my body.

My greatest danger is fear. My fear.

Doing what I do, fear can’t be part of the job. You can’t let it get to you. Even against insurmountable odds you have to stand firm. You can’t let your emotions and insecurities drive your thoughts.

But I failed. The fear is beginning to overtake me. Struggle as I might, the sheer terror of my inevitable doom has gripped my very soul.

The footsteps are coming closer. The door rattles as if multiple locks are being undone on the outside. Within seconds I will be within grasp of my enemy, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

The ropes seem to grow even tighter. Around my wrists, arms, elbows, chest and ankles. All of them throb and tingle from the tightness and lack of blood circulation. My throat is dry and sore due to my gag sucking every ounce of liquid from my mouth. The exposed areas of my skin are pricked with goosebumps as the cold air continues its assault.

I’m honestly not sure what will break first; my spirit or my body.

Again, a wave of fear and anxiety sends chills down my spine. I was trained to control my emotions. To suppress my anxieties so they would not stand in the way what had to be done.

But all of that was gone now. I was on the cusp of breaking, and the interrogation hadn’t even started yet. For the first time in my life, my fear had taken control of me.

Or was it really the first time...?


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I had just turned 18. My life was still relatively normal at that point. My parents had been out of town all week. My older brother, who was a few years older than me, was tasked with looking after the house while they were gone.

I was still pretty immature at that point, so they didn’t exactly trust me to do it. Plus, I knew they also were way overprotective of me and didn’t want to leave their “baby girl” home alone.

At the time me and my brother got along fairly well. I was still too naive to see any faults in my older sibling, whom I still looked up to and loved with all my heart. It wasn’t until later in life that I finally realized that his feelings about me were much different.

One Friday afternoon I came home from school dressed in my usual school uniform. The outfit consisted of a white, button up, long sleeved shirt covered with a navy blue v-neck sweater on top, and each sleeve had been messily rolled up to my forearms.

Around my neck was a blue & black necktie that was cinched at the front of my collar, but had naturally been untightned from my now partially unbuttoned collar and hung loose on my chest.

In addition, I wore a blue & black checkered plaid mini skirt that matched my tie.

On my feet I wore black & white saddle shoes with white knee-high socks.

My hair was woven into bright red pigtails hanging down to my shoulders.

After only being home a short time, while trying to avoid doing my homework, I got bored pretty quickly. I decided to hang out with my brother who was playing video games in the den. After several minutes of me trying to annoy him just for the fun of it I could tell he was getting frustrated. Understanding that I’d probably pushed him too far and pissed him off(again), I started to leave. But then my brother perked up.

He asked me if I wanted to do something “fun” and I was immediately interested. I was bored, didn’t have any friends to hang out with that day, and I was hoping to for some brother/sister bonding time.

My brother explained that he had heard about this really advanced version of the game “cops and robbers”. He would elaborate on how it worked as we played. The first part would involve him playing a robber and me playing a cop who was “captured” and tied up, and I would have to escape.

Cops and robbers sounded like a kids game to me, but he emphasized that it was “dark”, “gritty” and “adult”, obviously enticing the “18 going on 28” attitude that I always seemed to have. On top of that, the part about being tied up really intrigued me. I’d never tied up anyone before, and more importantly, I’d never actually been tied up myself. It was a weird thing, I’d seen people, especially women about my age, get tied up countless times in TV shows and movies I watched. But I’d never considered what being bound and gagged might feel like. Weirdly enough, I was actually excited about this.

My saddle shoes tapped loudly on the wooden stairs the led down to the basement. I followed my brother down into the darkened room, seemingly enthusiastic about the idea of this “game”. Before heading down into the basement my brother had taken a few minutes to rummage through various rooms in the house. He eventually turned up with a couple handfuls of supplies for our game; several lengths of white clothesline, an assortment of belts, a grey handkerchief, and a role of duct tape.

Once in the basement, I followed him over to the center of the room where a shiny metal pole stood. It was embedded in the concrete of the basement floor and stretched all the way to a large support beam on the ceiling. It was small in diameter, only an inch or two wide, but it was solid and strong. This is where I was to be held “captive”.

He instructed me to sit down with my back to the pole. I was worried about getting my short plaid skirt dirty on the floor, and I could feel the cold pole in between my shoulder blades. But still, I did not protest. I trusted my brother, and I still had a stupid smirk on my face thinking about what was about to happen.

Yeah, I know it’s weird. A normal young woman like me shouldn’t be ecstatic when they’re about to be bound and gagged in their own basement. But I was. And I’d never experienced anything like this before.

Sure, I’d seen movies where a sexy girl is captured by the antagonist and tied up, only to be later rescued by the main hero, who was almost always a guy.

Then there were other movies. Ones where the girl was put in grave danger, but a great male hero didn’t come to rescue them. They didn’t need one. They escaped on their own and THEY were the great hero of their story.

Those were the women I looked up to. The ones I aspired to be like.

Even though this was just me and my brother playing a silly game, deep down I was taking this way more seriously. No matter if it was pretend or not, today I was going to be my own hero.

This was my first time I’ve ever been tied up, and I was going to escape... without fear.

My brother then started his work, seeming to be more in a hurry now than I’d seen him before.

He started by pulling my hands behind my back and around the pole. He crossed them at wrists and began applying round after round of clothesline. He pulled it snug, more snug than I expected, and then applied more than one knot.

Next, he he grabbed at my elbows. At first I wondered what he wanted with them(remember, I’m new to this whole tie-up thing), but I didn’t wonder very long. He pulled them far back and as close together as he could behind the pole as well.

Thankfully I had been doing gymnastics for a few years when I was younger and I was surprisingly flexible. My brother was actually able to bring my elbows so far back that they actually touched. Then, he grabbed more clothesline and began trussing my arms just below the elbows.

Once he had knotted the segment, my hands, forearms and elbows were now pressed together tightly.

My brother then grabbed one of the belts, a thin black one, and wound it underneath my arms and across my chest. Then he got another, thinner brown belt and applied it to my stomach. The belt was long enough to loop all the way around my body, including my hands at the back of the pole. Pulling it tight and buckling it meant my wrists were now stuck firmly between the belt and the pole.

I was now completely immobilized with my body pinned against the pole...

And this is where it started to feel less “fun”.

Don’t get me wrong, I was still 100% onboard with seeing this through to the end. I was still happily playing along with my brother. If I had asked to be set free right then and there, I’m sure he would have untied me... Probably.

But I could feel something wasn’t quite right. Sure, I was already really tightly tied and my arms were already started to ache a bit. But my brother’s body language. The amount of thought and time and effort he was putting into tying me up... It was oddly unsettling.

Still, I did my best to block out any negative thought. I was determined to have a good time and enjoy this.

With my upper body more than secure, he then started work on my legs. He grabbed the last belt, a thin white one with sequins stuck to its outer edge(it was one of mine) and went for my ankles. He divided the belt into two separate loops and wound each loop around one of my sock-covered ankles. He then crossed my ankles, right over left, and pulled the belt tight and buckled it.

Then he moved up my legs to my knees and grabbed the last two pieces of clothesline. The first one went around my legs above my knees. He then applied the second piece below my knees, wrapping a couple of times around my legs just above the edge of my white knee-high socks. Once the clotheslines were in place and well knotted, my long, slender legs, which were normally very fidgety and rarely stopped moving, were now locked still on the floor, with my knees slightly bent.

And, once more, that uneasy feeling crept back into my mind. Despite still being enthralled with my current situation, and feeling a strange sense of exhilaration by being tied up, my brother’s handiwork seemed odd to me.

The whole point of this was for me to escape and move on to the next part of the game, right? Was all this really necessary?

Surely just tying my hands behind my back, or maybe tying my ankles together would be enough. Did he really have to tie up... well, everything? My elbows, my wrists, my knees, my ankles...

Was there anything he hadn’t tied?

Apparently I spoke too soon.

Next he grabbed the handkerchief and the duct tape and warned me that he was about to gag me.

For some reason I hadn’t considered a gag. And playing around like this I figured it was unnecessary. But, we’d come this far. I may as well go for the full effect.

The uneasiness inside me grew stronger. I realized that this was my last chance to voice my concerns about what he was doing to me. There was no turning back after this part.

I didn’t stop him.

My brother rolled up the handkerchief into a tight ball and began shoving it into my mouth. He gently packed it in until it thoroughly filled my mouth with only a small amount hanging out of my lips. He then took the duct tape and applied it over my mouth and the handkerchief inside. But instead of placing just a small strip over my lips, as I’d seen done to other girls a thousand times in movies, he wound the roll of tape all the way around me head and back to the front, placing a strip of tape all the way around my head. He did this three more times until everything under my nose was completely covered with the sticky silver substance.

My brother patted the tape on my mouth and cheeks then stood up and looked down on me for a moment, admiring his work.

I shifted my weight as best I could and moaned as I strained to stare up at him. And it suddenly hit me; for the first time in my relatively short life, I’m completely at someone else’s mercy.

Bound. Gagged. Helpless. Trapped.

My uneasiness gains more strength, and it begins to morph into... fear.

I try to suppress it once more, but I can feel the anxiety growing inside me.

Then, suddenly, it subsides. My brother drops to one knee beside me and places his hand gracefully on my shoulder. The look in his eye is one of concern. He asks if I’m alright and I nod yes.

Technically I wasn’t lying. His demeanor helped calm my nerves, and I was now more comfortable. Well, as comfortable as one can be while tied to a pole.

My brother then told me he had to run upstairs to get something, but he promised he’d be back.

The fact that he didn’t say WHEN he’d be back should have been a red flag for me.

He then jogged up the stairs and vanished behind the closed door to the basement.

And thus, I was now complete alone. My hands and elbows secured behind my back. My ankles and knees also tightly bound together. My mouth packed with a silencing gag. And my torso thoroughly lashed to the pole behind my back.

This was it. I was tied up. And for a while I kinda enjoyed it. I swung my bound feet back and forth across the floor as far as I could, since that was really the only thing I could move.

For a few moments I stayed motionless on the floor, doing my best not to make a sound. I listened intently for the footsteps of my brother in the house above me.

What was taking him so long?

At one point I thought I heard people talking and a car door slam, but I assumed it was just our noisy next door neighbors.

Since there were no windows in our basement I couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Given the amount of time it had taken my brother to tie me up down here, and how long he had been gone, I roughly calculated it was now in the early evening.

If I got out of this soon enough I might even get a chance to tie him up! That idea filled me with more excitement.

Speaking of which, aren’t I supposed to be escaping from this?

I found it odd that my brother hadn’t told me to try and escape. Had our game officially started yet? He wasn’t exactly around to answer that question(not that I was able to ask him with a gag in my mouth). He had been gone a really long time, and I was getting bored fast.

I had subjected myself to all of this specifically to avoid boredom. I wasn’t about to succumb to it while tied up like this.

After some pondering, I decided it was time to get into character and start testing my bonds. I assumed my role as the captured police officer, now at the mercy of a hardened criminal. Even in my dainty schoolgirl outfit I thought I made a pretty convincing cop.

And now the struggling begins.

I wiggle against the pole, trying to dislodge the belts on my torso.

They didn’t budge.

I then tugged at the ropes on my hands and attempted to pick at the knot on my wrists.

They remained tight.

I then focused my efforts on my legs. I heaved and pulled, shaking my legs violently until they hurt. I considered kicking my shoes off in order to help slip the belt off of my ankles, but I didn’t want to get my white knee-high socks dirty on the floor.

The belt and ropes were unmoved.

This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

I took a long and deep breath. Well, as deep as I could given I was only able to breath through my nose because of my tape gag.

I tried to keep my composure, even as that darn uneasiness creeps back into my mind.

While I had no clock or watch to tell, I still knew my brother had been gone for at least an hour by now.

Something was wrong.

Why would he leave me down here by myself, all tied up like this? For this long? What if something happened? What if I wasn’t able to escape on my own?

That last thought echoed in my mind for what seemed like an eternity.

What if I can’t escape on my own?

I suddenly began thrashing my body around against the metal pole, raising my bound feet up into the air slamming them down on the concrete violently. I screamed at the top of my lungs, but it only came out as muffled whimper under my gag. Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head wildly and yanked my body back and forth as far as I could while still attached to the pole.

I had never felt so scared, so frustrated, so trapped in all of my life.

What I didn’t realize then, but know all too well now, is that I was having a full on panic attack. Every emotion my thin body could conjure was filling up inside me and exploded like a volcano all at once. The fear of my situation was now in complete control of my actions.

As I panted hard under the tape a thousand horrible thoughts raced through my mind.

What if something happened to my brother? What if he didn’t come back? Would anyone else know to look for me down here? My parents were the only ones who might, and they would be out of town for several more days.

How would I sleep or eat? How long would I have to stay tied up like this? Would I EVER escape?

I began flailing my feet again, and my body as much as I could. I wrestled with trying to free my hands again but got no where. I finally kicked my black & white saddle shoes off, leaving my bare, sock clad feet laying on the dirty floor. While the belt around my ankles was now looser, it was still too tight to make any headway, yet I still continued to futilely fight with the stubborn piece of leather.

I cried.

I struggled.

I hoped.

I prayed.

But still nothing.

Suddenly, the question hit me like a bolt of lightning. I was terrified to even consider it, and all the more afraid of the answer...

Was this truly inescapable?

[Deleted User 2162]

An even more amazing installment! I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much emotion from a story nor have a liked a flashback so much!

[TightsBound]

Wow! It’s not every day that a tie up story fills me with so much suspense, but this is definitely the exception! Great writing so far. I can’t wait for more!

[BobaFettish1]

Thanks for reading, everyone!

I apologize for stringing all of you along with yet-another cliffhanger, but I promise it'll all be worth it. I figured it was time to provide some backstory that will have a direct effect on the present in the next chapter. Plus, I just loved the idea of our damsel being in extraordinary peril in two different times.

Whatever will will become of the Agent 38, both in the past and present?

Chapter 3 coming soon.

[TamatoaShiny123]

Thanks for reading, everyone!

I apologize for stringing all of you along with yet-another cliffhanger, but I promise it'll all be worth it. I figured it was time to provide some backstory that will have a direct effect on the present in the next chapter. Plus, I just loved the idea of our damsel being in extraordinary peril in two different times.

Whatever will will become of the Agent 38, both in the past and present?

Chapter 3 coming soon.

I happen to think that the same damsel in two different times of her life is awesome! Keep it out!

[iliketights]

This is an amazing story! A double cliffhanger! I can't wait to read more.

[BobaFettish1]

Hey guys!

Unfortunately it might be some time before I can get chapter 3 written and posted for you. But in the meantime I’ve got some questions for you, and I’d love to hear all you’re answers:

#1: Which locales would you like to see Agent 38 visit? (Specific, real world/fictional places, and/or specific places of peril, such as forests, jungles, dungeons, ect.)

#2: What type of bondage would you want her to experience in those places? (Hogties, pole ties, suspension, ect.)

#3: What type of outfits, or specific pieces of clothing would you want her to wear when captured? (She does enjoy dressing up, after all. )

Hit me up with your ideas and I just might be able to incorporate some of them into future chapters.

Thanks for reading!

[Deleted User 2162]

1) Galas - Parties, Office Buildings, Construction zones. Maybe a Japanese setting. Peril? Bombs, traps, water ect.

2) Shibari style ties, mummification, or hogtaping.

3) Formal dresses, secretary outfits, under cover uniform ie waitress in shirt and tie.

[TamatoaShiny123]

1. A school (perhaps as an undercover teacher), a hospital/mental institution
2. Straitjacket, mummification, trapped in stocks (like in renaissance fairs)
3. Sweats, white shirt/blouse, black dress and tie

[Caesar73]

1.) Galas, Office Buildings - i would prefer Office Scenarios

2.) Mummification! Pantyhose or Egyptian Mummy Style!

3) Formal dresses, secretary outfits - I borrowed here

[noggip]

1. A school (perhaps as an undercover teacher), a hospital/mental institution
2. Straitjacket, mummification, trapped in stocks (like in renaissance fairs)
3. Sweats, white shirt/blouse, black dress and tie

I love the sound of the undercover teacher idea! Maybe she could act as an undercover teacher and unknowingly be teaching one of her enemies posing as her student

[BobaFettish1]

Chapter Three: “A Nightmare Come True”

_______________________________________

At some point I fell asleep. No idea how long I was out. Every so often I’d startle awake after experiencing the worst nightmare of my life.

It was horrible. Walking home from school I’d been kidnapped by large, terrifying man and tied up in his basement. My hands and elbows were bound tightly together behind my back. My ankles and knees had been tied together so I couldn’t walk. And I was now sitting on the concrete floor tied to a metallic pole at my back.

But it wasn’t a dream. It was real. Except his basement was my basement. And the man who kidnapped me wasn’t just anyone, he was... my brother.

Somehow in this moment reality seemed more terrifying and confusing than my dream.

Nevertheless, the biggest obstacle I currently faced is the fact that I been tied up beyond belief without any hope of escape...

Without hope of escape? Had it really come to that? Had I really given up?

Sure, I’d been struggling against my bindings for what felt like many hours by now. If I was going to get out, if would have by now... right?

I pondered the question for a long moment. Even my naive mind knew that I now had to make a choice; either I was going to completely give up and succumb to my fate, whatever that may be. Or I was going to fight tooth and nail(perhaps literally) to get out of this.

The choice also came with a question of its own; what would the strong women in the movies I watch do in this situation? Would they give up if they were tied up like I am?

No, they wouldn’t.

It was at that moment that I was determined. Perhaps more determined than I’ve ever been, or ever will.

This was escapable. And I was about to prove it.

Calmly and bravely, I began examining how my legs were bound. Two lengths of rope were still tightly wrapped above and below my knees. And despite loosening the pressure with the disposal of my shoes, the belt around my ankles was still tight enough to keep me from slipping out of it. But I realized if I could spread my legs I might be able to get some leverage on it.

I pushed my legs straight out and wiggled them vigorously. After a good bit of struggling I was able to loosen up the clothesline tied around my thighs, just above my knees. It fell down onto the clothesline tied just under my knees. With more wriggling, both strands of clothesline were now loose enough for me to work all the way down below my shins; my knees were now free.

Now with significantly more maneuverability given to me legs, I was able to more viciously attack the belt around my ankles. I pulled and tugged, twisted and wrenched, and then, after several painful minutes of struggling I was able to slip one of my feet out of one of the belts loops. With my legs free to move independently in any direction I felt more free than ever, despite my arms still being very much immovable. My white socks weren’t so white anymore, my soles having been blackened by the dirty basement floor, and they were also bunched up in places due to the struggle with my bindings. But I didn’t care. I had at least partially freed myself, doing half the work I had earlier convinced myself was utterly impossible. I was empowered.

In a move that was less strategic and more about “because I can”, I decided I was going to try and stand up. I slowly scooted my feet up under myself and inches myself off the ground into a squatting position. Then, very slowly, I pushed myself up against the pole. As I did so, my movement put pressure on the belt pinning my hands to the pole. As I rose it began to slip, and before I knew it, I was able to pull my hands free halfway through trying to stand. Now, I used my still bound-together hands to grab the pole and hoist myself up into a standing position. The second belt that was around my chest had also loosened and fallen closer to my stomach. With some wiggling, both belts slid down my body all the way to my ankles, and I simply stepped out of them.

Now I could focus on my biggest problems.

My elbows and wrists were still tightly tied behind my back, and around the pole. And there was still no way to get the tape gag off my mouth to yell for help. This would be tricky. But I wasn’t about to give up.

Suddenly, I heard a noise coming from upstairs. I could hear a faint creaking from someone walking through the house somewhere above my head. My first thought was that my idiot brother had finally returned, perhaps after a fun night out with his friends while his little sister was left bound and gagged in his basement. The anger boiled up inside me and I wanted to kick him in his crotch as hard as I could if he got close enough, but I knew I had to suppress that desire. I still didn’t have a good idea about how I was going to get my arms untied, and I didn’t want to give him a reason to leave me tied up down here for the rest of the night.

I listened intently as he moved his way through the house and closer to the basement door. I let out the biggest and loudest squeal I could muster from under my gag to try and express my frustration at him, and to also tell him to hurry up! The noise I made seemed to get his attention, and soon I heard the door at the top of the stairs creak open. I scooted around the pole, my elbows and wrists still pinned together with clothesline, and turned to face the staircase. I saw a dark figure at the top of the stairs, slowly making his way down. He stepped slowly and loudly down the stairs, making each step squeak under the the pressure of his body weight. His descent seemed to take forever, and I so badly wanted to yell curses at him for being so ominous and dragging out this nightmare ever longer.

But as my brother neared the bottom of the stairs, I realized...

This wasn’t my brother at all.

He was tall and wide man, covered head to toe with dark colored clothes. Black shoes, dark blue sweat pants, a dark grey T-shirt, and a black ski mask. The only parts of him that were visible was his piercing brown eyes that stared directly at me.

I stared back in utter disbelief and horror. It was the man from my dream.

A burglar was in my home, and I was tied up and unable to defend myself, or even run away.

In his right hand was a long, rusty screwdriver. I instinctively started to squeal and circle around the pole to get away from him. But before I knew it, he grabbed me and violently shoved me into the pole, pinning me once again.

He pulled out the screwdriver. I winced at the thought of what he was going to do to me. He pointed it sharply at my throat and pressed hard into my skin. He took his other hand off of me, but I didn’t move. He hadn’t said a word, and he didn’t have to. His message to me was clear.

He then reached around his back and felt around. When his hand reappeared, it held several long lengths of black rope.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

[Deleted User 2162]

Awesome continuance! The wait was 100% worth it! Can see where she had desire to become an agent after all that!

[TamatoaShiny123]

Awesome continuance! The wait was 100% worth it! Can see where she had desire to become an agent after all that!

Agreed! Well worth the wait!!!

[BobaFettish1]

Chapter Four: Home Invasion

_______________________________________

My new captor finally pulled the screwdriver away from my throat and I breathed a sigh of relief. Right now, being tied up fully again would be preferable to... Well, you know.

He took a few steps around me, admiring my situation. Surely he was wondering if I’d actually managed to do this to myself, or perhaps another burglar had got to me beforehand. Still, he didn’t say a word.

After a few paces around me, like a lion circling its prey, he stuffed the rusty screwdriver into the front left pocket of his sweatpants. He then grasped the long strands of black rope with both his hands and stepped towards me.

Here we go... again.

He knelt down at my feet and began his work. But instead of simply beginning to tie up my ankles, as I expected, he quickly picked up one of my feet and grabbed at my white knee high socks, which were now hanging around my shins due to my earlier escape attempt. He yanked of the sock and threw it to the floor. He did the same with my other foot, and before I knew it, both of my bare feet were now standing on the filthy basement floor. My bare toes touching the cold concrete floor made me shiver, but I didn’t have time to think about it. He then grabbed the rope and started winding it around and in between my ankles. He worked with remarkable speed and ease. My brother was pretty good with knots and such, but this guy was a professional.

Yeah, I probably wasn’t the first girl he’s tied up.

After cinching the rope securely between my ankles, he then took the excess rope and anchored it to the pole at my heels. He then grabbed more rope and did the same thing at my shins, above and below my knees, and then even managed to bind my thighs together(as if they weren’t already pressed together from the rest of my bindings). Each time he secured the rope to the pole, fully pinning my legs to it. My legs were so straight against the pole it almost hurt.

Considering my legs we’re now completely immovable and securely lashed to the pole, I figured he was done down there, but no, not quite. To seemingly put the finishing touches on his work, he knelt down at my feet again and pulled out a small piece of string from his pocket. He then started to wind it around my big toes on each of my feet, then pulled them together and cinched them with a bow tie. Now I couldn’t even spread my toes apart.

I was almost impressed... almost.

He then grabbed more rope and started at my waist. Winding a long strand several times around my waist and belly, pressing my plaid skirt firmly against my skin. He then used it to pull my bottom and lower back as close as possible to the pole. Then he grabbed my wrists, which were still bound together with the same clothesline that my brother had applied hours ago, and tied one of his ropes to it. He then brought my hands firmly against the pole at my back and tied them tightly. He did the same thing to my elbows, which were also still tied together, and securing them to the pole and ensuring there would be no budging my entire arms.

At this point I started expecting him to run out of rope, but he magically seemed to have an unlimited supply of the black woven substance, much to my chagrin.

Again, with even more rope, he wound strand after strand of rope around my torso, weaving over and under my arms, across my chest in multiple directions, and all the way down to my midsection. My white shirt and navy blue vest were now all but a part of me, pressed into my skin all over. The vast web of ropes was tied off at my back, behind the pole. My entire body felt like it was in a cocoon of rope that covered every inch of my body and prevented me from moving even the slightest bit.

Was he finally done with me?

No. No he wasn’t.

He grabbed another strand of rope, and walked closer to me. His next action made me gasp.

He began tying the rope around... my neck!

He wound it all the way around my neck and then began to cinch the rope between my neck and the pole. Thankfully, he used his fingers to separate the rope from my throat. It would be loose enough not to choke me, but tight enough to keep me from struggling... or I would indeed choke. It was a cruel and potentially deadly way to remind me that struggling against my ropes was out of the question.

The man stood back, once again getting an eye full of what he had done to this poor little girl. I could only see his eyes, but I could tell he was grinning.

He was enjoying this.

And I wished I had I had used my gymnastics skills to kick him in his stupid smiling face back when my legs weren’t tied down.

His demeanor suddenly changed. I could tell he now realized he had gotten carried away and overstayed his welcome. He had to make his escape now, leaving this poor, defenseless teenager trussed up in the basement of the house he just robbed.

I was really just hoping he wouldn’t steal any of my stuff on the way out.

Before walking up the steps and out of the basement, he stopped for a moment a rummaged through his back pocket. He then pulled out a long black bandanna.

My heart sank because I knew exactly what he was going to do with that.

He then spread across my eyes and tied it off behind my head. The blindfold made everything go dark. What small amount of light was in the dimly lit room was now completely gone. I could even tell if my eyes were open or closed. I could only feel...

The ropes bound tightly around my ankles, knees, and thighs.

The rope wrapped around my waist, belly, chest, and arms.

The rope pressing together my wrists and elbows.

The rope around my neck, ready to squeeze the life from me if I flinched.

The tape over my mouth and the handkerchief within.

The blindfold over my face.

Even the string tied between my toes.

I was trapped.

Again.

[Deleted User 2162]

That was a nice and quick surprise! Our burglar friend probably enjoyed that as much as we did reading it.

[iliketights]

OMG - that was incredible. The way she had partly freed herself, only to be retied even more severely ... seriously one of the best tie-up sequences ever! I am in love with this story!

[BobaFettish1]

Hey guys!

Once again, thank you so much for the wonderful feedback. I promise chapter four is coming soon, and it's going to be an epic one that ties everything together(pardon the pun)! I'm also working on some massive twists that are guaranteed to shock you.

In the meantime, I'll leave you all with a question:

If Agent 38 got her own movie, which actress would you pick to play her?

[Deleted User 2162]

I would be partial to Emily Bett Rickards but I'm biased with her being a huge crush. Beyond her and seeing as our character is a redhead.....Sophie Turner?

[Caesar73]

Another actress came to my mind, remembering the good old X-Files: Gilian Anderson - or another retro: Diana Rigg