The shock of seeing the black bulk of the burglar
looming over her again was too much for Melanie. She fainted from a combination
of fright and disappointment, not to mention exhaustion brought on by the hours
of near hysteria she had undergone which now finally caught up with her.
Brendan looked down at his captive with growing
dismay. Her face, which had been flushed and strained from the gag when he had
left her hours ago, was now white. Feverishly he knelt and gathered her in his
arms. His fingers trembled as he fumbled at the knot that was tied so tightly
at the back of her neck. It was more than a minute before he managed to pick
the threads sufficiently to loosen it. He knew that a minute is a long time in
these situations and his efforts became more feverish. When the knot parted
grudgingly, he carefully unwound the long scarf from between the girl's teeth,
finally easing the central knot and silk pad from her mouth. Melanie's lips had
a bluish tinge but she was still breathing.
In an agony of guilt, Brendan rolled Melanie onto
her face, putting her in the coma position. And while the unconscious woman lay
there he took a small pocket knife from his jeans and cut the bonds that held
her upper arms and body, working as fast as he dared. The blade of the knife
was small and he had to saw at the cords. When they finally parted, he rolled
her onto her back without troubling about her bound wrists or legs. What he had
to do next was more important.
Swiftly he felt at the side of her throat for a
pulse. It was there, thank God, but it seemed to flutter. He inspected inside
her mouth to make sure there was no obstruction, that her tongue had not
slipped into the back of the throat to cause choking. Then he tilted Melanie's
head back and held it steady with one hand while with the other he took her by
the chin and held her mouth open. He did not stop the rhythm of the EAR, mouth
to mouth resuscitation, until he could see the young woman's chest rising and
falling in a natural manner. The pressure of her lips against his gave him an
instant hard-on, but he could not let that distract him. Brendan was overjoyed
when Melanie took a deep gasp of air followed by an attack of coughing. He
rolled her quickly onto her side again and cradled her in his arms, letting her
head rest against his shoulder.
Melanie's eyelids fluttered and she gave a low
groan. Brendan found himself stroking her heavy luxurious hair and rocking her
gently from side to side. 'It's okay, kid,' he breathed softly, his lips
against her ear, 'You're all right. I'm not going to hurt you. Take it easy.'
The young woman nodded weakly. She tried to speak but the effort brought on
another fit of coughing. Brendan lowered her gently to the floor, putting a
pillow from the bed under her head and neck, and almost ran to the kitchen. He
was about to take water direct from the tap when on an impulse he opened the
refrigerator. A large plastic jug of water stood in one of the door's
compartments. Taking it and a glass from a nearby shelf, he walked hurriedly
back to the bedroom.
Melanie had not moved from the position he had
left her in. She could not really, for her legs were still tightly fastened
together and her wrists bound in those cruel knots. Again Brendan cradled the
lovely woman in his arms, but this time she was sitting, and he held the glass
of water to her lips. 'Drink slowly,' he warned. She nodded and obeyed. He realised
that she had regained consciousness and knew what was going on, more or less.
Melanie drank three glasses of water. The first
she sipped steadily, causing an attack of spluttering when she attempted to
drink faster. But the third glass went down easily. She let out a deep sigh and
spoke her first intelligible words in eight hours. 'Th ... thank you.'
There followed a long awkward silence as Brendan
and Melanie sat together on the carpeted floor in the middle of the bedroom. A
very long silence, as Brendan held the girl in his arms. Melanie allowed her
head to rest against his shoulder. It had been clinical before when he was
performing the EAR on her, but Brendan now found himself staring with
fascination at the rise and fall of Melanie's breasts, which had almost been
revealed by the shifting of her tight blouse and translucent satin bra. Part of
a nipple - it seemed to be erect - and the dark areola surrounding it was
peeping from the edge of one satin cup. Brendan brought his hand down to her
breasts, cupped each in turn for a moment, and gave each a light squeeze. The
exhausted girl neither moved or spoke as he fondled her breasts. Then he
carefully readjusted the bra so that she was covered again. Melanie stirred in
his arms but did not speak.
'Do you think you
can stand now?' Brendan asked.
'I might, if my legs weren't tied.'
The man flushed with embarrassment. In his relief
that the girl was well, sparing him a murder rap, he had entirely forgotten
that she was still a very secure prisoner in very tight bonds.
'I'll have you out of that in a jiffy,' and he
took her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
'My hands ... ?' she asked in a small voice.
'Those too.' The girl appeared satisfied and let her
head roll gently onto the bedspread.
As he worked at untying Melanie's wrist and leg
bonds, Brendan laid down the law, but he could not altogether keep the tone of
apology from his voice. 'I have to hold you still. Can't afford to let you get
away. It's becoming day now. I ditched the car a few blocks from here and the
police will be looking for me in this neighbourhood. So I've got to lie low.
You won't be bound tightly, just enough to stop movement. Do you understand?'
But by the time Brandan had said his piece and
removed the ties at wrists, above and below the knees, and around the ankles,
Melanie lay motionless in an exhausted sleep. He was uncertain whether she had
heard him, or understood.
Brendan inspected the young woman's hands. Her
struggling had pulled the cuffs of her blouse away from the bank of cords that
had bound he wrists, with the result that deep indentations had been left in
her skin. The silk of the blouse had been too flimsy anyway to make much
difference as far as the tightness of the cords was concerned. The woman's
hands were red and puffy from the impeded circulation. There were also marks on
her legs and ankles left by the ropes. Brendan gently massaged Melanie's
wrists, then her legs, but her wrists and her ankles in particular, for almost
an hour. From time to time he succumbed to temptation and fondled her breasts
through the silk of blouse and satiny bra. But all that was elicited from the
sleeping woman was what sounded uncomfortably like a purr.
'I could take her now. It'd be easy,' thought
Brendan. But the idea was strangely abhorrent. He was beginning to care for the
girl. She was not a girl really, he corrected himself as he looked at her elfin
face grown smoother in sleep. She's thirty-something, very nearly my age unless
I'm badly mistaken. But she could easily be taken for a much younger woman.
Brendan stopped the massage. He had to, the
tightness in his jeans was unbearable. Carefully he covered the woman in a
sheet up to her throat, rearranged her head on the pillow so that her luxurious
auburn-tinted hair spilled across it, making a sort of halo about her head and
the side of her face. Softly he left the room and almost tiptoed to the living
area. The morning sun was striking through the curtains at every window on one
side of the house. Time enough to truss her up later. There was no need to do
it while she slept.
Brendan himself slept fitfully on the living room
sofa. At half hour intervals he rose and inspected the young woman. She
remained in a heavy sleep, a little color creeping back into her cheeks
revealing her near-perfect complexion. God she was beautiful!
He knew her name now, Melanie, from the credit
cards and driver's licence in her shoulder bag. He took nothing. He had done
enough to her already, though shortly her would have to do more. He debated
whether to use the gaffer's tape but decided that she would be too weak from
her hours of helplessness and that it was therefore unnecessary. A few secure
ties with cloth was maybe the way to go. He checked out the linen closet where
the ropes had come from and found two old white sheets with rips in them that
were obviously put aside to be made into cleaning rags. He tore the sheets into
several broad strips. They were crisp and clean. This little lady even washed
her cleaning rags!
The morning was almost gone when Melanie began to
stir sleepily. Brendan sat on the edge of the bed, a long piece of sheeting in
his hand. He did not immediately notice it when the svelt woman became fully
awake and fixed her eyes on him, and it was with a start that he realised she
was watching him through half closed eye-lashes.
She spoke first. 'Have I been asleep long?'
'Just about all morning. There was no point
disturbing you.'
'Why didn't you go? You could have been well away
by the time I woke up.'
'I couldn't,' Brendan replied, shrugging. 'I had
to get rid of the car ...'
'Which was stolen. I seem to remember you saying
something about that just before I fell asleep'
Brendan nodded.
'I'm still your prisoner aren't I?' Melanie
sighed, glancing at the long strip of sheeting across Brendan's knees. She
pushed herself up till she was sitting with her back to the pillow and gathered
the loose folds of her silk blouse around her. 'Look,' she continued, 'I've
cooperated with you fully, something that I really regretted for hours
afterwards. I'm just glad you came back because there was no way I could have
fought free or attracted help, and I hate to think what it would have been like
after another day.'
'I won't tie you anywhere near as tight.'
The look on Melanie's face told Brendan she did
not really believe him. 'At least let me use the bathroom and change into
something more decent before you tie me up again,' she temporised.
Brendan sat in the bedroom listening to the
distant sound of the shower. There was plenty of time, all afternoon before it
would be dark enough for him to slip out of the house and down the street,
across the 'burbs to a bus station and the beach terminus. Melanie had selected a change of clothes
while Brendan was inspecting the bathroom to make sure there was no way she
could escape through a window or signal for help. The bathroom window looked
out on a thick hedge with a vacant block beyond, so all was secure, as Melanie
would be again shortly.
When the bathroom door opened and Melanie stepped
into the room, Brendan caught his breath in admiration. The young woman wore a
light blue silk blouse with long sleeves over a form-hugging black
body-stocking. The first three butons of the blouse were undone, and the tails
of the garment fluttered loosely over her thighs in a casual look. The pair of
tights she wore, matching the blouse in colour, reminded Brendan of a ballet
costume. They were clearly not for general use. On her feet Melanie wore a pair
of light flat-soled shoes that looked almost like slippers. Brendan realised
that although they were simple items of clothing their obvious quality meant
that they were very expensive.
In response to his look of surprise, Melanie said,
'I thought it might be a good idea to wear my Yoga outfit. This is it, aside
from the blouse and the body-stocking. The blouse is really too dressy for
Yoga, and the body-stocking can't be worn for Yoga without something under it.
But I'm not wearing it for you,' she added with an elfin grin. 'It'll be more
comfortable than my bras was, when I'm wrapped in bonds again.'
Brendan rose and approached Melanie with the long
strip of sheeting in his hands. The sweet woman continued talking as though
nothing was happening. 'You do promise not to tie me like you did before? That
was sheer torture. Look at what you did to my wrists. The marks are still
there, and ther are bruises on my arms. I don't bruise easily either.'
Melanie turned and presented her wrists crossed
behind her back. When Brendan had finished neatly and thoroughly securing her
wrists together in a series of criss-cross ties she looked awkwardly over her
shoulder at them and flexed her hands. She could turn her wrists a little in
the broad cotton bands but they were held inescapeably all the same. Brendan
had made a couple of turns one way, tied it off with a tight double knot, then
a couple of turns the other way - horizontally then vertically - followed by
another double knot. There had been enough left for him to cinch once between
her wrists before tying off a final double knot. Melanie was unable to free her
hands but she was comfortable. She guessed she could probably spend the same
number of hours trussed up as before, but with less damage to her skin. That
is, if the rest of her was bound as gently. She sat on the bedroom chair and
watched in fascination as Brendan knelt before her and tied her ankles
together. He did it the same way as with the ropes, even cinching it off, but
the pressure of the cloth around her legs was like that which held her wrists,
secure but relatively comfortable.
As Brendan climbed back to his feet Melanie could
not repress a light giggle. 'Why don't
you take off that ridiculous mask? It must be very uncomfortable.' Brendan had
quickly pulled his stocking mask over his head when watching Melanie come
awake, and he was still wearing it. 'I won't turn you over to the police if
that's what you're worried about,' she went on, 'You came back and untied me,
and you've been very decent letting me get tidied up again.'
Melanie sounded sincere so Brendan removed the
sticky nylon covering his face, but not without some misgivings.
'That's a lot better,' the girl said approvingly.
'You're quite a good-looking guy under that fearsome exterior.'
'Enough talk,' grunted Brendan. He was flattered.
Why did this woman's opinion mean so much to him? The truth was that he did not
know how to respond to this vivacious imp who was now taking in her stride the
experience of being bound once again. He knelt and scooped her up in his arms
and placed her gently on the bed. Melanie rolled onto her side to take the
pressure off her hands and looked up at her captor with an apprehensive frown.
'Are you going to gag me?'
Brendan nodded.
'Not like last time, I hope. This old house has
such thick walls. Some guests staying here once called to me as I was walking
up the street. I could see them in the window waving, and I knew they were calling
to me, but no sound got through.'
'Okaayyy,' said Brendan slowly, after a thoughtful
pause. 'Let's trust each other. I'll muffle you instead and we'll experiment.
If I can't hear you from outside the house you can keep it on. I'll have to tie
it good and tight all the same,' he added as he approached her with a short
strip of bed sheet in his hands.
'I won't try to get it off,' Melanie promised.
'We'll see.'
Before he applied the gag, Brendan tied a knot in
the center of the strip of cotton. Taking one of Melanie's folded silk scarves
he made it into a square pad as he had done the night before. The knot with its
wadded packing of thick silk was again pressed into Melanie's mouth. Only this
time there were no long ends of scratchy silk organza to wrap around her face.
The knot at the back of her neck was very tight however. Melanie began
experimenting immediately by attempting a loud cry. All she could do was to
produce an indeterminate muffled bleat.
Inclining his head in approval, Brendan said,
'I'll slip out by the wall and listen. I want you to yell as hard as you can,
no cheating. If I can't hear anything, well, that'll do.' Melanie nodded in
promise and as Brendan left the room she let out another cry which was as muted
as the first. Brendan stayed in the hallway outside the bedroom for awhile
listening to the muffled sounds. He was certain they would not be audible even
in the house once the door was closed. He then stepped out into the back yard
and sidled along the wall until he was standing below the upper-floor window of
the bedroom. He could detect no sound at all. When he returned to the room the
gagged noises were still being made, but with a note of weariness.
Melanie looked up at him interrogatively from
where she lay. God, how that woman can communicate so much simply with her
eyes! 'Okay,' said Brendan awkwardly, 'I'm taking a rest. I advise you to do
the same because when I leave tonight I'll have to truss you up real tight
again, but not with rope. With his foot he indicated the black kit bag.
Melanie's eyes widened with understanding and she tried to remonstrate, but the
gag made this impossible. Her experimental yelling had dried her mouth enough
so that any further cries were now reduced to muffled whimpers. Brendan closed
the bedroom door and walked to the living room. No sound followed him down the
passage. Melanie realised that in the old house the light gag she now wore was
just as efficient as the many-layered one that had silenced her earlier in the
night.