I went to my usual salon to have my nails done by Donna. I liked her because she had a very classy style much like my own. Her skin had a natural tan, not fake in any way, courtesy of holidays in the south of France, with her "yachting friends" as she called them. Discreet but high quality jewellery indicated family wealth but she was clearly a successful business woman in her own right. I liked her salon too, it was half way between the office and home, on a main road but in a respectable leafy neighbourhood so I was happy to park my Audi outside, and it was a pleasure to wind down there and indulge in a make-over or have my hair coloured. She was always very attentive, but then she charged for it in her prices. Her coffee was good too, and I could smell it as I walked in.
It was mid September, the end of a busy day, and the sky had begun to get dark. I was dying to get home and get out of my corset. I wore it on days when I had important meetings. I loved the feeling of control it gave me, always useful when berating the sales team on their figures, which seemed to happen a lot. And despite the Dior anti-perspirant, my silk blouse was beginning to feel damp under the arms. My black pencil skirt clung to the sheer stockings on my legs. The weather was very much late summer rather than early autumn, and this combined with the frantic schedule of meetings I had chaired during the day left me enervated.
I was the last customer of the day, and Donna asked me to wait while she popped out for a minute to put the shutters down, leaving by the back door to go round the front of the salon, flicking the ceiling spotlights on as she went. It crossed my mind that these were unnecessary, as the fluorescent strips in the ceiling were bright enough, but I flopped down in one of the plush waiting-area sofas, started to unwind, and promptly forgot the lights. There was a small electric fan heater under the coffee table which I pushed away with my foot, placing my Gucci handbag next to it. Idly I picked up an old copy of Grazia magazine and waited, watching the metal shutters slowly grind down to the floor. Pictures of pouting B-list celebrities stared back at me from the shiny pages, and whilst I had absolutely no sympathy for their petty problems, I did envy some of the clothes they got to wear.
Donna did not reappear which surprised me, but I was even more surprised when the main room lights went out, leaving the spotlights on, and another woman walked in through the back door. I gasped as I saw she was wearing a mask covering her upper face. Her dark blue overalls contrasted with her bleached blonde hair. It wasn't Donna.
"They're closed," I stammered. "I know," she replied, and in behind her walked two other women, also masked, also in dark blue overalls, and carrying holdalls. One of them, I couldn't help noticing had her dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Assuming they were thieves, I mumbled something about taking all the money, but they just laughed and walked towards me. I stood up, meaning to dash for the door, but they grabbed my arms.
Before I could cry out in any sensible way, they gagged me with a rubber ball on a strap, and the blonde woman undid the buttons of my silk blouse and then pulled down my skirt and pants. Wide-eyed and frantic, I struggled but the three of them were too strong, and my wrists were secured behind my back by metal handcuffs. "Relax," said the blonde, whom I took to be their leader. I waited for "…we're not going to hurt you..." but she said nothing more.
Still held by the other two, I watched as the leader ripped the seat cushion from one of the salon chairs. I was frog-marched over to it and made to sit on the exposed criss-cross metal frame which was cold and uncomfortable as you can imagine. Ropes from the holdalls were put around my knees, each one tied to a leg of the chair. They then tied ropes around each of my ankles and pulled from behind so my feet were lifted back and off the floor, and tied to the back legs of the chair. More ropes went around my waist and chest, beneath and across my breasts, squeezing them, and securing me to the chair. After removing the handcuffs, each arm got similar treatment to my legs, being tied at elbow and wrist to the back of the chair frame, and finally a chiffon scarf was tied around my neck, then to the back of the chair. I was unable to move in any direction.
The leader took a bristle brush and began to sweep it through my hair, harshly, causing me to cry out, or at least attempt to from behind the gag. "You have lovely hair," she said, "but we'll soon fix that". I have blond shoulder length straight hair, and it costs me a lot to keep it that way for my business image, so if I wasn't anxious before, this just opened up another room full of fear in my mind. She parted my hair and made it into two bunches, using elastic bands. No part of this was gentle but I was frozen in any case. I sensed she was playing with me.
The one with the ponytail picked up the fan heater from the waiting area and brought it over, waving it at me, grinning. I didn't understand why, but then she placed it underneath the chair, and with a sudden panic I realised why the seat cushion had been removed. If this was a robbery it was no ordinary one! I was filled with panic suddenly picturing all kinds of tortures to make me disclose my credit card PIN number, or bank account details, but they asked no questions.
One of them then moved a standing hair dryer over to behind the chair. The leader picked up a hand-held drier and again waved it in front of me. I squirmed but could do nothing to stop her. Producing a roll of tape from a pocket, she taped the hairdryer to another chair placed in front of me, pointing the nozzle towards my thighs. She turned it on, and simultaneously the others switched on the fan heater below me, and the upright drier behind me, which they manoeuvred into place over my head. At first the heat was bearable, and I guessed that they had set the devices to low to prolong the torture. After a minute though, the heat began to penetrate my senses. I moaned through the gag, and pleaded with my eyes to be released but they just stood there smiling, enjoying my suffering.
For how long they stood there, just staring, I have no idea. Maybe it was a few minutes but it felt like forever. Suddenly all three devices were turned off. Even now, as I sat there, throbbing, they said nothing.
"Again". The women's voice broke the silence and the heat drove into me again. I did not hear her speak but after maybe five minutes they stopped. "Again". I felt myself losing control of my emotions, moaning through the gag, straining against my bonds, knowing that I was at the mercy of these women, not knowing what they had planned for me, powerless and …what else? A strange disturbing mixture of feelings. The heat stopped, and I became aware of the blonde standing over me.
She picked up another hairdryer and this time cupping my left breast, switched it on a let the warm air play over it, sometimes hovering over the nipple, then moving away and around. She switched to the right and did the same. After some time, her free hand slipped down my body and began to rub between my legs. I felt a flush that did not come from the hot air which was still tormenting my breasts, but more a confusion of emotions that such torture could result in pleasurable sensations. My nipples rose and see the effect on me, the woman gestured to one of the others who produced a round-headed vibrator from a holdall. She thrust this between my thighs, which were still red and throbbing from the hot air and the attention they were receiving. The other two then fastened it there with rope and tape, as if I could have done anything to prevent them, or to remove it, bound as I was to the chair. As it was turned on, I arched my back, or at least as much as the ropes would allow, and tilted my head back, only to see her looking at me, smiling with a look that said "at last you are my prisoner, I have waited a long time to see you bound before me". But I'd never seen her before of course, I didn't know what was happening and felt so confused. And she said nothing, still holding the hair dryer, playing the hot air on my chest, teasing the nipples.
She switched it off after some minutes, and picked up one of the spiked hair rollers that was lying on a tray to the side of the chair, and, cupping my right breast with her palm, rolled it across the already sensitised nipple with her other hand. One of the other two did the same with my left breast, whilst the third knelt down in front of me and ran a spiked hair brush up and down my inner thighs. I moaned through the gag, trying to wriggle free but at the same time and to my shame, somehow not wishing to be free. The combination of stimulations was too much and rose to an intense burst which engulfed my whole body.
"More heat" came the command and for a fourth time the fan heater below me, the hair dryer in front of me and the hood above me whirred and sent their hot blasts into me, all the while the vibrator continued to hum, although its sound was lost to me now. And once again I came, quickly this time, an all-enveloping sensual wave washed through me and away, as the noise stopped.
They removed the fan heater and standing dryer, took the taped drier from its chair mount, and I expected them then to release me, but they just vanished, leaving me bound and gagged, breasts exposed. I was drained, exhausted, hot and sweaty. I may even have passed out, I'm not sure.
It was Donna who found me soon afterwards, and released me. She seemed shocked but not as much as I might have expected. After all I was one of her most important customers, and I had been tied up and tortured in her beauty salon!
"Where were you?" I gasped.
"I got a phone call," she replied, but I didn't remember hearing a phone. Suddenly I became suspicious, and scared. I said I wanted to call the police, but she told me to sit down and have a cup of tea first. That made me more anxious, and I looked round for my handbag to get my own phone. But it was not where I had left it……
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