The Adventures of Agent Lisa

By Amy Flanagan

Chapter 2: An Old Friend

The lorry trundled along with Lisa strapped into helpless immobility on the floor.  She knew that there was no point in trying to shout - she would scarcely be able to attract enough attention from outside the lorry to do any good, and would just annoy her captors.  Not knowing who they were or what their intentions towards her might be, and being utterly at their mercy, Lisa thought it prudent to be careful.

She felt the manacles being removed from her ankles.  This did her little good, as her legs were still secured to the floor by the straps.  The laces on her boots were loosened, and her boots were pulled off; she hoped that this didn't mean she would lose them.  Her socks followed, but she wasn't very fussed about those.

To her surprise, she felt shoes being put on her feet.  Ankle straps were pulled tight to hold them securely in place.  Now why take off her boots just to put shoes on?  Once those were in place, the manacles were again fastened round her ankles.  The manacles were fixed to the floor, holding her feet immovably in position.

Once this was done, someone very heavy sat on her body and the straps around her legs were undone.  With her feet pinned and the weight of the person, she could still not move.  The sheet covering her was pulled back, showing her legs.  Fingers fumbled at her belt and undid the buckle.  Was this rape?  Lisa didn't know whether to be frightened or excited at that thought.  She had endured all sorts of sexual indignities in her career; some hadn't been all that bad, really.  She started getting moist as she recalled some of the best ones.  The prying fingers had great difficulty in undoing the button at her waist, due to the extremely tight fit of her trousers.  Once it was undone, the zip almost flew open.

Lisa felt the hands slowly peel her trousers off her bottom and down her legs to her ankles.  Would her captors free her ankles again to take the trousers right off?  No!  To her horror, Lisa realised that someone was cutting the trousers!  Kidnapping her and strapping her down was one thing, but wrecking her lovely satin trousers was quite another.  She tried to wriggle, and made as much noise as she could, but it was utterly futile.  Soon her trousers had gone completely.

Lisa suddenly realised why her abductors had not rendered her unconscious, when they easily could have.  They had wanted her fully aware of what they were doing to her trousers - the fiends!

The lorry came to a halt and, to Lisa's relief, the heavy person sitting on her stood up.  The remaining straps holding her down were released, and she was lifted to her feet, but she could not take a step while the manacles were secured to the floor.  Also, the sheet was still strapped tightly to her body and she could still not move her arms.

At this point, Lisa realised why her abductors had put shoes on her feet to replace the boots.  She was teetering on heels even higher than those she was used to - she was literally forced to stand on tip-toe.  What were they called?  Oh yes, ballet slippers.  Even if her feet weren't manacled, she'd never be able to run in those shoes.  It would be as much as she could do to totter along slowly.

The strap around her waist was removed, but before she could take advantage of this, strong hands grabbed her wrists and handcuffed them together behind her back.

The manacles were unfixed from the floor of the lorry, and Lisa was forced to walk forwards, slowly and painfully.  She was lifted down from the lorry onto a hard floor.  The remaining straps round her body were undone and the sheet was removed.

At first, Lisa was blinded by a brilliant light shining in her face.  Gradually, she made out that she was in a large room, maybe a warehouse or an aircraft hangar.

Suddenly, a familiar figure loomed into view.  It was a tall lady, with long blonde hair and a beautiful but cruel face.  She was wearing a black catsuit, tight enough to reveal every single curve of her slim but voluptuous figure.  Her height was increased by her high-heeled thigh-boots.  In her right hand was a whip.  It was Martha, her arch-tormentor while she had been at the mercy of Tash!

"Hello, Lisa," said Martha, her expression of welcome belied by the cold anger in her voice.  "If I am not mistaken, we have a little unfinished business to attend to."


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