Tales from a German Opera – Part 1

By Aksinia Astakhov


They were a professional gang. As the tall dark haired woman came out of the opera house with her companion, one of the gang, dressed as a chauffeur, approached her and told her that her husband had arranged for the car to pick her up. It was typical of him to do a thing like that, so she thought nothing of it. He was often busy, working late, but then so was she, they both earned the kind of money that most people only dream of, mixed with the top Euro politicians and financiers, and rarely found time to go out together. When she asked if they could drop her friend off along the way, the man raised no objection, and showed them to the car.


As the two women sat in the back of the limo they discussed the opera. Hildie, or to give her her full name, Hildeberta Paulina Liebling-Kitsch, her tongue loosened by the numerous glasses of sparkling wine consumed during the performance, gave forth her opinions on the music, the tenor and who the lead was dating and whether she would like to see him herself. She finally bade farewell to Anna, who had patiently listened to all of this, whilst silently wishing Hildie would shut up, but then Hildie was rich, very rich, and what was a little one-way conversation when she was paying for the best seats in the Concertgebouw?


Hildie sat back as the limo sped up, heading out of town, but not in the direction she expected. On questioning the driver she was told there had been an accident and traffic was being diverted. Have a glass of wine, said the driver, there in the seat back behind me. She opened the small compartment and was delighted to find a miniature bottle of French red wine and a small elegant glass. She helped herself and sat back, gazing out of the window as the street lights flashed passed. Resting her head against the plush leather seat, and lulled by the purr of the smooth Mercedes engine, her eyes closed...




She awoke with a start. She was bound and gagged, tied standing to a pole in a dark room. One small high window let in the dull orange glow from a street light out of sight. Her muffled cries for help echoed off plain concrete walls, and she began to panic, wrestling against her bonds.


Her wrists were tied, rope over a silk scarf, carefully designed to avoid marking the skin, although of course she didn’t know that and even if she had known, it wouldn’t have helped her. The rope was itself attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling, pulling her upwards. Her mouth was dry, packed with wadding that had a slightly bitter tang. Again, she didn't know, and it wouldn't have helped her to know, that her panties had been removed and stuffed into her mouth, held there by another silk scarf. A rope was wrapped several times around her waist and under and over her breasts, holding her tightly against the pole, and wide leather straps fixed around each ankle were linked together and to the pole, by a metal chain, judging by the sound as she tried without success to escape their grip.


A man stepped out of the shadows behind her, making her jump, and squirm even more frantically in a futile attempt to break free. A spotlight came on, its narrow beam of light shining into her eyes so that the man’s face was not visible. He spoke, his accent and tone were neutral, business-like.


“Ah you’re awake, good. Well now Frau Liebling-Kitsch, welcome to our lair. You may have guessed by now that you have been kidnapped. We are expecting a very large ransom from your husband, so large that we don’t think he will pay up at first, so you’re going to be tortured. Oh nothing too heavy, we won’t cut a finger off or anything like that, no, we’re much more subtle. Let me explain what’s going to happen to you. Do you see that chair over there?”


She strained to turn her head to she where the man was pointing, and could just make out to her right, against the bright light in her eyes, the shape of an upright chair.


“Well, we’re going to take that lovely evening dress off and then tie you to the chair, but first you will become acquainted with this.”


He waved a large plastic object in front of her face. Being a woman of a certain age and experience, she recognised it as a sex toy but he helpfully explained.


“This is a butt plug, it has batteries inside and vibrates for, well, we’ll see how long it lasts, a few hours I would guess. It goes in here.”


He grabbed her left arse cheek and squeezed it tightly, then ran his finger down her back from the rope around her waist, into the crevice of her buttocks, pressing the material of her dress into that intimate space. She froze with fear.


“Oh, and we have another big toy for the front. Then there are the nipple clamps, beautiful silver ones, with small weights that make you feel every movement, truly delightful.


You will be gagged of course, we have a rubber ball for you, the panties in your mouth are just a temporary measure. Everything will be filmed and the images sent to your loving spouse with the ransom demand. Any delay and there will be more humiliation, more torture, more...discomfort.”




Far away across the city a telephone rang and Hildie's husband answered.


“Yes I can see her. All is going according to plan. Good. Carry on.”




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