After locking up the house, Melanie set out for the beach cabin where she intended to go to ground for the long weekend writing a new chapter of her novel, when she remembered that she had not set the VCR to pick up her favourite TV program. Parking her car beside the curb, she ran quickly to the front door, and in her hurry found some difficulty fitting the key. The lock did not seem to respond properly. Then the door swung open and she was inside and kneeling by the television. She was just about to set the timer when Melanie heard a sound in another part of the house.
'That darn cat,' she exclaimed. 'It's the neighbour's feline so why don't they take more responsibility for it.' The sound appeared to come from her bedroom.
'Puss, Puss,' she called softly as she opened the door of her room and stepped inside.
The room was dark and poorly illuminated by the glow of a distant streetlamp that came fitfully from between the gaps of the two curtains that almost covered the window. So Melanie pressed the light switch.
And found herself standing face to face with an intruder.
The man was dressed completely in black. Even his face was hidden behind a dark stocking that had been drawn up over his head.
Melanie's hand went to her mouth, spontaneously stifling the scream that came to her lips, because for a terrible moment she thought that the burglar was going to pounce upon her. She backed up against the door which, in the way of doors, had swung closed behind her, preventing any sudden dash for freedom to the front of the house.
Melanie took a deep breath and spoke in a frantic stream of words, scarcely knowing what she was saying, her eyes fixed on the seemingly huge bulk of the man before her.
'I won't cry out. There's no need to hurt me. I'll cooperate. There's some money in the back of the dresser drawer, not much but you're welcome to it.'
The man backed towards the dresser, his eyes never leaving Melanie. 'I won't run away,' she added quickly.
She watched while the drawer was ransacked. Several silk scarves were dumped on the dresser as the burglar searched out the small wallet of notes that Melanie kept for emergency spending. He grunted and put the cash away in his hip pocket. 'You got any more?' he asked.
'No,' Melanie replied truthfully. 'I see you've already found my jewellery. There's nothing else of value here.'
'Except you,' the man rejoined.
Melanie's heart went cold. 'What are you going to do with me,' she asked in a shaking voice. 'You're not going to rape me are you?'
'No, I can't say I'll do that,' the fellow responded slowly. 'I'm a thief, not a rapist. But I can't leave you here to call the police the moment I've gone. So what am I to do with you?'
'Don't you think the obvious thing is for you to tie me up,' Melanie found herself saying. 'There's some rope in the linen closet left over from packing.'
'Show me.'
Melanie felt weak at the knees as she led her captor back along the passage to the closet. It was not far from the front door and she looked longingly towards that avenue of escape. But her arm was taken firmly and the burglar spoke urgently in her ear, 'Don't even think about it.'
He watched while Melanie opened the door of the cupboard, observing with approval the curves of the young woman's legs from thigh to ankles as she reached to the top shelf and brought down an armload of rope. She had intended to change into more comfortable clothes on reaching her destination and Melanie was still wearing her town suit. This was a soft blue skirt that reached to just above her knees, a white silk blouse with a wide collar and a touch of lace, wide black belt, light blue jacket to match the skirt, and a small pink neckscarf at her throat. Dark stockings and black high heeled shoes completed a very attractive picture. Add to this finery a neat gamin figure, five foot five, with nicely proportioned breasts, and dark shoulder length hair that was at the moment pinned up to create a sophisticated look, and Melanie's beauty made the onlooker's heart ache, as it had done with many men.
Melanie turned and faced him. 'This should be more than enough for what you want to do,' she said in a small voice, indicating with a nod of her head the armload she now carried.
'Yeah, sure,' he replied, a little bemused. 'Back to your room.'
The burglar mentally shook himself and hustled Melanie into the bedroom. 'Got to get this done quickly, otherwise I can't be answerable for what I might do,' Brendan thought to himself. 'She's a nice kid and scared to death, and what's going to happen now she won't like at all. So I'd better make it good and quick.'
Once again the bedroom door was pushed shut with Melanie trapped inside with her captor. The young woman dropped the ropes into the middle of the floor and stood back. 'How do you want me?' she asked, almost sweetly. Then, without waiting to be ordered, she turned her back to the burglar and crossed her wrists behind her.
'Okay,' said Brendan, 'That's sure being cooperative. But take off the jacket.'
In dismay Melanie looked back over her shoulder at him. 'Do I have to?' she asked.
'I'll demonstrate why,' he replied, and added menacingly, 'Do it, please.' Why did he say please when he knew he had perfect power over this slip of a girl? Brendan asked himself.
Melanie shucked off her jacket and fitted it neatly on a coathanger in the floor-to-ceiling wardrobe.
Once again she turned and put her arms behind her. Brendan had by this time selected a yard length of medium thickness cotton cord and another piece, a little thicker, about two yards long. Throwing the thinner length over his shoulder, he walked to Melanie and passed the thicker cord between her upper arms and her body, winding it around her arms four times. He made a slip knot and began gradually to tighten it. Melanie's arms were drawn inwards towards the small of her back. The knot was doubled and the ends cinched between, around and around until there remained only sufficient to allow a tight double knot to be secured. The young woman gasped and strained involuntarily at the bonds, but they remained fast. She could not move her arms.
Tied in this way, Melanie had to stand very straight, the pressure on her arms lifting her breasts up and outwards, straining against the silk of her blouse. The black lacy bra beneath was so sheer that it was almost as though she was not wearing one at all.
Brendan now carefully bound the girl's wrists together with the the thinner and shorter length of cord, making sure to wind it around the cuffs of her blouse. He also made sure to allow some slack in the loops before double knotting, temporarily, and passing the ends of the cord in opposite directions between Melanie's wrists and cinching them tightly. 'Must tie the knot well away from her fingers,' he said to himself.
'That'll hold you, my lovely,'' he breathed aloud with satisfaction, 'That shouldn't interfere too much with your circulation. Your jacket would have taken the pressure better, but I can't risk you doing a Houdini number if the arms of the jacket allowed some free play. Sorry about that.' There he was, apologising again!
Melanie was not so sure about the apology as she stretched and wriggled her hands and fingers. Her wrists were so tightly secured that she could not even twist them within the bonds. She bit her lip and a single tear glistened in the corner of an eye.
'This way, my dear,' said Brendan, and he led Melanie to the edge of the bed. 'Down on your face.'
'Please ...' Melanie began, but Brendan interrupted.
'No sweat, kid. I admit I'm tempted - you've no idea how much - but this is to secure your beautiful legs, that's all. I can't do a lot to you with those gorgeous thighs tied together, can I?' he lied.
Melanie in her confusion did not notice the irony in his voice, and with a sigh she complied with the demand.
It was already clear to Brendan that the young woman was not expecting visitors, and therefore he had no real cause to hasten in what was becoming a highly diverting operation. At first all he wanted was to truss up this elegant woman quick smart and get out of there. Now he was begnning to change his plans. The choice was to have a profound effect on both their lives.
Brendan bound her legs carefully. Loop upon loop of rope was passed around Melanie's slim ankles. He allowed sufficient slack to cinch it all together with several passes of the cord ends between her legs, before drawing them in tight with a hard double knot. He then bound the girl's legs above the thighs in the same way, and below the knees as well so that her legs were a single helpless unit, as her whole body was soon to become. He was careful to place the knots so that they would rub painfully between her legs. He also had to push her skirt and slip up to her thighs in order to do the cinching. In the acts of tying, the backs of his hands inadvertently stroked calves and thighs, brushed sensuously across nylon encased legs and from time to time became tangled in the folds of an almost sheer slip of purest silk. This delighful little woman had excellent taste. She was obviously a lover of silken fabrics and liked to look good, Brendan guessed, for virtually all occasions.
He stood back and surveyed the results of his efforts so far with satisfaction. And effort it was. Brendan found that he was breathing heavily and the sweat trickled down his side from his arm-pits. His face and neck felt hot, and he was experiencing the most amazingly painful erection he had felt in years. What was it about this small woman? He had tied up several others at moments during his nefarious adventures without a qualm and certainly with no more effect than the glow of a quick and efficient job done to allow for a neat getaway. But this was different.
What should come next? Truss her arms to her body or secure a non-slip gag? It was important to make his women victims silent as quickly as possibly, and he had already left it too long for this one.
Brendan took a step towards his kit bag, which contained a huge roll of gaffer's tape for just these sorts of occasions. But the look of consternation on the young woman's face when she turned on hearing the tearing sound, as with one hand he drew an end of tape from the roll, made him falter in his approach. Until then, Melanie had been lying face down on the bed quietly accepting her fate as the tying of her legs proceeded with an efficiency that made her heart sink. There was going to be no escape from this without outside help. But when she heard the sound of the tape being stripped from the dispenser, she reared her head up and looked back wildly over her shoulder at the burglar, her mouth open, sweet lips foring a rounded but silent 'No, please.'
With a shrug, and a little shamefacedly, Brendan turned and tossed the tape roll back into the bag. But something had to be done. The tumbled pile of silk scarves on the dresser table, some still neatly folded and pressed, caught his eyes. Yes. This woman was alone. She was probably not going to be rescued by friend or inquisitive neighbour for hours, perhaps a day or two, Brendan reasoned. And lying alone on the bedroom floor with her mouth and face taped up for so long would be positively dangerous. He had always made sure that his victims would be freed within a reasonable time after his departure before gagging or worse set in. Brendan was a stickler for safety and he prided himself on being able to tie knots that were secure, tight certainly, but never cruel. Cloth, and silk especially, would suit the occasion admirably.
Brendan took up a neatly folded scarf of the purest silk organza. It was black and very long and almost two feet wide. Quickly he folded it into a long narrow band about two to three inches wide and tied a knot in its center. A second knot tied over the first created a good mouth-filling wedge. A smaller scarf, still folded into a neat rectangle for the dresser drawer, was folded once more into a square and placed on the silk knot of the long black scarf as an additional wad. Holding the two scarves in one hand at the central knot, Brendan rolled the young woman onto her back with the other hand and propped her up. He was now sitting beside her, a little to the back. Her dark shoulder length hair brushed his face. He felt his skin burn.
'Open wide,' he commanded gently, 'I'll try to make this as comfortable for you as I can, but it won't be possible to make it not hurt a little. A gag has to be tight if it is to do its job. You do understand I hope, though you may not want it.'
'I ... I don't want a gag,' Melanie replied huskily, 'but I can't do anything about it ...' Her voice stopped abruptly as the cloth was inserted between her jaws. Melanie did not resist. In fact she opened her mouth obediently and accepted it in full.
'Good girl.' The wad of cloth was firmly in her mouth now and the ends were being tied at the back of her neck under her hair in a single tight knot. Carefully Brendan wound one long end of the scarf twice across Melanie's mouth between her teeth, so that the wad was even more firmly wedged in the front of her mouth. The other end of the scarf went round twice also, but this time it was bandaged over her lips and covered her face neatly from just below her nose to the tip of her chin. There was just sifficient left over for Brendan to tie a very secure double knot at the back of Melanie's neck. It was so tight that the young woman's cheeks bulged above it. The bandaging helped to compact the ball of cloth in her mouth.
Melanie gave an experimental cry and found that all she could do was to produce a faint throaty glugging noise that would never be heard outside the room. The strange look she gave Brendan made him feel more ill at ease.
'You can breathe a little better through all that than you would have if I'd taped you up,' said Brendan. 'But I recommend that you pay special care to breathing through your nose.'
Working in more of a hurry now, and with the sweat soaking his shirt, Brendan securely trussed Melanie's arms to her body, below and above neat breasts that were already raised, the soft outline of her nipples growing erect under the silken pressure of her blouse.
Melanie lay on the floor now, on her side, looking up at her captor. 'He's going to leave me like this?' the young woman thought in growing panic. And she began to twist and turn, at first experimentally and then with greater effort as the realisation of her complete helplessness and dependence on another person dawned on her. When he was gone, how on earth was she to get out of this? She renewed her struggles against a rising tide of panic.
Brendan had exited. The light of the room was off. There remained the soft glow of the bed lamp turned down, and the harsher but weaker glow of night light from the distant street.