Sarah Tibbett-Davies was having an excellent week. No, make that a great year. Driving home in excellent spirits, she hardly noticed the rain lashing her Saab convertible as she sped along the roads. They say cars tell you about a person, and Sarah's new top of the range beauty described her confident, out-going successful personality to a tee.
She had every reason to feel good about herself. The youngest Police Chief Inspector in the Force at 35, the ONLY female Police Chief Inspector, she was flying towards her goal of Chief Constable. She had jumped from private education into the Police Management Training Scheme, fuelled by ambition to kick everyone out of her way to the top. Having top scored at the latest review, she was awaiting decoration at the forthcoming Inspector's Convention.
The real stroke of luck had come last month, when she took credit for the arrest of a robbery gang that had been raiding at will for months. And in fairness, it was much of her skills that set up the arrest. Not that all of her colleagues agreed of course, especially the male ones. You see, Sarah was quite a rare breed in the Police Force: she was clever, ambitious, hard working, and very astute in judging character and played things straight: oh and she was female, and a stunner at that. Always athletic, she had built her physique through a ruthless fitness regime to ensure that neither colleague nor criminal could outsmart or outfight her. Truth was, she was a real hard bitch and would stop at nothing to win.
The snag was that she knew it, and as the years passed and success followed success, confidence could sometimes become arrogance, and ambition was becoming obsession. Take this robbery: serious threats were made against Sarah by the criminal families, but she just laughed them off. So Sarah was at once feared, admired, lusted after, hated, envied or any combination of these. She began to feel untouchable....and why not, she thought to herself as the car sped onwards with music blaring.
She glanced at herself in the mirror. Sarah had the career cracked, and started to think of herself as a "woman". She released the pins holding her dark shoulder length hair and shook her head slightly, admiring the way the wavy locks casually cascaded onto her uniform blouse. Her dark eyes sparkled back at her, her wonderful complexion obvious despite the lack of good light. Teeth, nose, mouth all perfect. Mind you, that uniform was appalling. The blouse a frumpish shape, the trousers purely functional and she felt her toes curling up in the "proper" shoes. Jacket and hat lay flung on the back seat.
And then she began to get agitated about her live in Partner's lack of appreciation of her. They had been together for over 7 years now. Alec was a terrific physical specimen and it suited Sarah to have him, but she was growing tired of him. Recently, Alec had returned from his army posting, and he showed little enthusiasm for Sarah's work achievements. That was 2 months ago, and whilst she missed the sex, she was glad to see the back of him for another few months.
Sarah was proud of her body, which had flourished late at 17, but just in time for her flaunt and tease the boys with her new shape which included wonderful 36C breasts and a firm rounded bottom that just said "spank me" to any red blooded male that dared to look long enough. And those legs that went on for ever, but with real shape (the product of athletic training)
Driving along she felt her thighs (still firm, she thought), reached under her bottom (still firm), rubbed her tits (still firm, and would have been without the bra, too). What the hell was that Alec moaning about? But she was getting agitated. The Police Inspector's Convention was just tomorrow evening, and she WOULD be absolutely stunning on the night.
Pulling up outside her house, she let herself in. Her mobile rang. She snapped at her Assistant during the brief call. She did not want to be disturbed again.
Sarah hurried to the bedroom. She turned the tape on showing her recent TV appearance explaining the successful robbery capture. Was she looking her best there?
Quickly, she stripped and showered, and after drying stood in front of her smaller sized formal (dress) uniform.
"OK, I'm going to knock you bastards out and dream on if any of you want to touch me" she murmured. And with that she selected lacy white half-cut bra and high leg bikini briefs, with matching suspender belt and dark silk stockings, slipping into them and admiring herself in the long mirror. "Time for the professional me", she continued, and with that she carefully slipped her black, knee length skirt over her hips and buttoned it in place. Perfect fit, too! This dress uniform skirt was quite flattering and hugged her in all the right places without being too obvious. The blouse slipped on easily, but the button over her cleavage was tight, showing off her lacy bra as the fabric folded back slightly. Once the jacket was buttoned, this was not a problem: indeed, the dress jacket again flattered Sarah's full figure. Hat, Tie and shoes were next, and the "best policewoman in the land" stood admiring herself again.
The mobile phone went again. Sarah frowned, checked the caller and answered brusquely. OK, so it was a problem that she had asked to be kept informed about. But Sarah had people to deal with these problems. 3 calls later, she had ripped the crap out of her senior officers and the problem was theirs not hers. Furthermore, the next time they would contact her was to join her at 19.00 prior to the Convention (so they could dutifully follow her entrance, of course).
Sarah's arrogance had been fuelled by her looking a knockout in her dress uniform. Oh, God, she felt good and was going to wallow in it until tomorrow evening!!
Wallow. Such a good word, "wallow". Sarah brushed her neck, where a sharp pin-prick brought her attention. She stood, looked in the mirror again and found difficulty focussing. She found herself a little unsteady, and her mind drifted, "wallowing" through what felt like a slow motion dream. She looked again in the mirror: Oh, God, there was a human shape behind her! She turned to raise her hands and drifted aimlessly away. The figure reached for her, catching her as she slipped down. Effortlessly, Sarah was turned around and hoisted onto a meaty shoulder. She was out for the count.
Sarah's dream was continuing. She rarely dreamed but somehow this one felt real. She was dreaming that all her senses had gone; she was in a state of limbo. What was that she could hear? Nothing. It was black; too, she could see nothing. And smell, well that was OK because she could smell her own house and bedroom so everything was going to be OK as she woke up. There was an odd taste in her mouth, though, which she could not figure out.
Sarah dreamt that she would start to move now. Touch, that sense would tell her everything. And to a certain extent, it did. Or the lack of it......all her fingers touched were her other fingers
Suddenly startled, Sarah jerked into life and went to spring into defensive position. A flash recollection of a dark figure behind her triggered her self defence training and she instinctively moved.
OR NOT! "Oh, Jesus, I cannot move" flashed into Sarah's brain, followed closely by a sense of fear. She could not see: she was blindfolded, and something was blocking her ears.
Sarah's brain was racing. "Move my arms: oh, shit! I can't move them; they are tight behind me, fixed in place to something hard. Hands, double shit! They are cross tied tightly at the wrists and I can't pull them any which way more than an inch. I'm sitting down, so stand up quickly. Jesus, I can't move my legs or lift my ass off what ever it is I'm sitting upon"
She screamed blue murder at the top of her voice: OK, that should bring the cavalry to her rescue. She could hear the scream. She took a few seconds to realise she was probably the only one to hear it. OK, her mouth was conveniently open to allow a yell, but something large, hard and rubbery was filling the cavity to capacity. Worse still, as she went to spit the filling out, she found it was fixed firmly in place: no amount of jaw moving and tongue pushing worked the gag out. Oh, sweet Jesus, she was gagged tightly with what she realised was a rubber penis (the shape was unmistakable, "I only suck cocks when I am in charge and want to tease" she bizarrely thought). Finally the tension around her head told her that a tight hood arrangement was holding all in place
And with that, Sarah lost it and started to trash about like a wild cat. Or at least, as far as her bonds would allow her to. For several minutes, Sarah panicked. All her inward confidence and police training went out of the window. And yet, during that time, she began to assess the detail of her predicament. She was definitely fixed to a chair in her bedroom, probably one of the kitchen chairs, which have slatted backs. Sarah could feel the top of the chair digging into her armpits as her arms were lashed over and down the back. The arms were held firm at the elbow (that hurts, she thought, and they nearly touch), and the wrists were tied and lashed to the cross bar below the seat. Soft but unforgiving ropes seemed to be the bindings, with no knots available within finger's reach. Ropes then held her legs together above the knee but Sarah puzzled over the fact that her feet were apart. Ah, until she realised that ropes held her ankles to each of the front chair legs.
Ropes then passed tightly across her thighs and lower stomach, anchoring her to the chair seat and lower back. What felt like yards of rope then fixed Sarah to the chair back, with several turns below and above her breasts. Belatedly, she now felt her tits jutting out proudly and her nipples hardening as cold air brushed them: a sudden jump told her that her blouse had gone, but the bra just held on to the jiggling breasts (although she foolishly cursed herself now for choosing such a flimsy one earlier). Sarah's thoughts quickly thought of her other clothing. Although her senses and movement were severely restricted, she could feel her skirt and shoes and sensed hose on her legs. One thing that did puzzle her was some uncomfortable lumps around her crotch and ass (had her skirt rucked up?).
And all the time, the "dark figure in the mirror" sat and watched Sarah writhe and wriggle around, her gorgeous hair flapping from under the hood, the chair shifting minimally this way and that, fingers fluttering uselessly. Squeaks and muffled sounds accompanied furious head shaking. What a show! The "best policewoman in the land" completely helpless and it was she that had demanded to be left alone.
Now fully awake and exhausted by her futile struggles, Sarah panted and snorted through her nose. She began to wonder what the hell was going on. She did not have to guess for long. She started as she felt fingers reaching behind her hood and a rolling up of the tight rubber that had held her head. As the hood came away, Sarah blinked and realised she could see. The gag remained in place, but the earplugs were pulled out by someone behind her. Her focus returned and she stared at the bedroom mirror ahead.
Looking back at her and smiling was a figure dressed all in black, with a classic ski mask covering the face. Sarah sensed the smile under the mask of what appeared to be a tall thick set person, who must be male, she thought.
"No need to fret, Chief Inspector. You have just got too big for your boots. You see, many people think that you need to be taken down a peg or two, even some of your own team.
Sarah began to wail and thrash again.
"So the idea is that you make a real impact at the Convention tomorrow, and we were all happy to buy into that" With that, Sarah's chair was turned toward the webcam and the PC and the screen kicked in. A face flickered into view. Sarah was stunned. Smiling at her on the screen was Detective Inspector Carol Hutchins. Now Carol had been in the Force longer than Sarah, and in truth was a damn good cop. In fact, Sarah had been forced to keep her down over the years using some rather underhanded methods. Hutchins was a good-looker, too, not in the classical way like Sarah, but with a full, rather overweight figure.
Hutchins chuckled. "Hello, Maam, Miss Tibbety-Wotsit, Miss High & bloody mighty. My you do look a sight even over this limited vision! Now you may be a little confused at present, but we all await your "entrance" to the Convention tomorrow with great anticipation! We are all looking forward to seeing you paraded then, you jumped up tart. Of course, we will all be totally ignorant of what happens. Anyway, you said to leave you alone until then, so I will say goodbye till then you fucking bitch"
"You see, Sarah, you treat people like shit and they treat you like, well a piece of meat", and with that a DVD began to play on the PC. Sarah wanted to close her eyes, but she just looked ahead at the pictures unfolding before her.
She would have them, of course, and lock them up and through away the key. Anger welled up inside Sarah. "God these people are so dead" she uttered. But then, exactly which people? Sarah's brain was running at an alarming pace. But what really puzzled her was the sight on the screen of a large X shaped frame contraption with attachments in various places
And with that, Sarah started to writhe, thrash and curse all over again.
That is until the hood was brutally tugged back over Sarah's head. She was frantic now, and snorting with effort. Suddenly, the ropes holding Sarah to her chair were slashed. She was pulled up and held with one strong arm. She felt the other hand tug her skirt up and around her waist. Then it hit her. She could feel the pressure of rope with knotted bobbles tight over her panties, and the movement as she was struggling was starting to send a tingle of excitement through her body.
The panic was back, and all Sarah could do was to squirm and squeal.
This was going to be a long night.
End of Chapter One
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