Agent 38: A DID Spy Thriller (Various)
Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2018 8:17 am
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?