Kidnapped: The Taming of the Princess b***h

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Travel Papers

“Let go you fuckers!”

Paige shook off a pair of meaty hands that pinched her nostrils. Emboldened with this little success, she thrashed around on the limo’s floor. The hands returned though, this time with a set of unforgiving metal pincers. Placed on the end of her nose, the pincers cut off all air. The hands let go. Paige resumed her thrashings but, unable to breathe, she soon stopped.

Paige squealed behind her gag. She needed to breathe! Unlike with Colin and Sheila, these two men hadn’t left her any air passage. Calm, stay calm. Draw on your air reserves. Show them you aren’t going to give them trouble. They didn’t kidnap you just to kill you. Not unless you give them a good reason like becoming totally unmanageable. Quiet. We’re quiet now. See how good we are? We get the message – behave or else.

Paige kept absolutely still.

Not until her captors were satisfied she’d stopped her struggles were the pincers removed. If she hadn’t kept herself in shape, she’d soon be unconscious. She sucked in the life-giving air.

Paige never learned the two beefy men’s identities. Dressed in dark business suits, gloves, and black hoods, she couldn’t get any hint as to their age or race. A few words were spoken from the one nearest her, but she couldn’t make them out. They never volunteered any information, but when one pulled out a palm pilot and entered some information, he passed it over to his confederate. The second one glanced at it, and then let his hand casually fall in front of Paige.

Along with her vital statistics, it displayed small photos that occasionally changed. Colin and Sheila had taken them all, except for one. That one was a headshot Robert had taken. He’d talked Paige into taking off her sunglasses despite the bright, cloudless day and had her face into the wind. It showed off her best attributes; her long, black hair, short nose, and long eyelashes. It also managed to hide her bad ones, namely her too wide mouth, something Paige was sensitive about. She’d practiced for years to make it look smaller by keeping it puckered. People thought she was always angry and tended to step lightly around her, which in turn, really did make her angry. Not until she met Robert had anyone taken the time to really know her.

And now, these two strangers apparently knew more about her than she did. Paige squinted her eyes. There it all was; her address (1217 Blackwood, Apartment 3), friends (very few), level of education (one year, junior college), work hours (Tuesday through Sunday, 11-9), and commute time (20 minutes). Even the fact she read romances!

Paige shook her head. Crap! How’d they find out? She’d taken such pains to hide that and any other foolish, unreal notions of love from Robert. But these two thugs knew. How long had she been watched?

Paige did find out she wasn’t the only “pick-up” that night. The limo slowed to a stop, and Paige assumed they’d reached their destination. Instead, the two men exited and left her on the floor. Through the open car door, she found they were in a driveway. The men strode up a narrow path of tan, satillo tiles approaching a white, stucco house in a relaxed manner. Paige wanted to laugh at the strange; almost normality of the scene, but her gag prevented it. Go ahead; check your watch, you brute, while the other one politely knocks. Just a couple of gentlemen callers, except you wear black hoods.

Paige couldn’t see who opened the door, but the two men didn’t take long. They quickly returned, a securely tied woman under their arms. After they dumped her on the limo’s floor, one of the men tapped the glass separating the back from the driver’s compartment, and the car glided away. Soon, they were on the freeway. Overhead lampposts briefly illuminated the struggling woman.

Unlike herself, Paige’s new, thin companion was outfitted as if for a night out on the town. A black, spaghetti strap dress that normally would’ve fallen past her knees was, due to her struggles, hiked way up her well-shaped, dark-stockinged legs. A necklace, probably worth more than Paige made in six months, draped her neck. Once perfectly coiffed blonde hair now hung in front of her wide eyes while white gauze tape was tightly wrapped around her lower face. Paige guessed her age to be about ten years older than herself, but what held her attention most was the intricacy and severity of the rope work. Her skin bulged out everywhere which, due to her thinness, testified to the tightness of the ropes. Hips flared from below several wraps of rope around a tiny waist. Everything was accentuated in the most extreme way, especially the breasts. Whoever tied her had paid close attention to those. The rope crossed over between them then wrapped around them in a tight hug forcing them to unnaturally protrude until they almost fell out of the dress.

In spite of the danger they were in, Paige marveled at the workmanship involved. Every rope placed just so, one neatly above the other then cinched between the legs and arms to prevent any slippage. It also indicated it had taken a long time for this woman to be tied up, to short a time from the two goons going in the front door and then reappearing with her. She’d probably cooperated being placed in this bondage, or the rope placement would have been sloppy. Either she had gone along with the lover’s game and then been told the real intent, or she had been drugged and then awakened to find herself in bondage.

When the woman didn’t settle down, Paige noticed one of the men pull out the nose clips again. No, no! Paige wanted to shout to the woman. Stop struggling! It doesn’t do any good. Stop! Oh, no! Look out!

Paige shook her head, but the gag allowed only a few “mmmphs” to escape. The other woman frowned, trying to understand the message, but it was too late.

Mere seconds after the clip was in place, the woman’s eyes bulged. After that, her struggles quickly ceased, but the men waited to make sure they wouldn’t get any more trouble from her. The woman made protesting noises at first, replaced by ones full of pleading. Paige joined her. Take it off, take it off! Can’t you see her face is turning blue? Bastards, let her breathe!

Finally, the men nodded to each other and allowed the woman to breathe again. She drew in quick lungfuls of air and remained quiet for the rest of their ride toward the unknown.

It didn’t take long to get where they were going or to the next stage of their journey. Even through the limo’s sound deadening glass, Paige picked up the growing whine of jet engines. The limo stopped, the door flew open, and the pungent smell of jet exhaust assaulted her. The blinking red wingtip flashed at Paige like some mad wizard’s eye about to cast a spell to keep her in everlasting thralldom.

The men lifted out the woman in the black dress first. She kicked and screamed behind her gag but was no match for them. All she managed to do was mess up her hair even more and let them all get a glimpse of her shiny, black panties. Once outside, the jet’s turbines quickly drowned out the small amount of noise she made.

They were gone a long time, and Paige wondered if this was a transfer point for herself too. Maybe they meant to keep her for a few days before shipping her out. It wouldn’t be unheard of due to the bondage novels Robert had made her read. Kidnapping muscle men, as a bonus, usually got a woman. Then when they wanted fresh meat, they’d pack off the used one and look forward to their next “bonus”. But those kinds of fictional men usually made leering comments to the bound woman and grabbed lots of cheap feels. These two hadn’t made any move on Paige except to slap on the leather cuffs and gag then cut off her air. It brought Paige her second revelation that night; these men were professionals, cold and removed. They didn’t care about any bonus. They must’ve been well paid and this was just another workday. She was just another among dozens they’d whisked away in their careers. When they did return for her, Paige could tell she was just another bundle to them. They ignored her struggles. This was just another part of their jobs. Neither of them tried to stop her. It was probably because they knew Paige would stop herself once she found what was in store for her and shock set in. When she did, Paige froze.

A coffin. That’s what they were going to pack her into! But it wasn’t any silk-lined, gold handled box, this one was smaller than the ones found at a funeral parlor, and much more utilitarian. There were three others in line ahead of hers; one with a closed lid being loaded onto the plane by a ramp conveyor belt while the others were still open. A man bent over the nearest one in line to the plane and adjusted some LED readouts labeled “HR”, “BP” and “RESP”. Another man next to him took some notes.

“Heart rate 92...85...67,” he said. “Blood pressure, 95 over 68. Respiration eight per minute. She’s falling asleep.”

The lid closed and the box was lifted onto the ramp. It disappeared into the plane.

“Next,” the man said. He turned to Paige, roughly grabbed one of her bound arms, and pulled a syringe from his breast pocket.

Paige tried backing away. No! They were not turning her into a brainless pincushion.

Suddenly, a scuffle broke out around Black Dress’s coffin. Her hands came out and threw some wide straps over the sides. She managed to get her head out, but several hooded men, including the one with the syringe, rushed to the coffin and made sure she stayed inside.

In a flash, Paige realized this was her last chance. With the rest of the men distracted, only one of her original captors had hold of her. She broke loose of his grasp then quickly brought a knee up. She missed his crotch and hit the leg instead.

Take that, you bastard! The man fell back, and Paige was free. Ha! She took off into the welcoming, empty night.

Run, run! This wasn’t like with Colin and Sheila when she was leading them on a merry chase, a little prearranged game, or so Paige thought at the time. Get beyond the tarmac, into the tall grass. Hide out there until these crazies think it’s too dangerous to stick around anymore. Hurry!

She glanced back. No one was following her. Her jogger’s legs pumped. Just a few more strides. Almost there...

Something hit her in the stomach.

Paige doubled over but didn’t hit the tarmac. She was on top of one of those coffins! One on a gurney. In that brief moment, Paige was eye-to-eye with a young woman. A small window in the coffin’s lid allowed her to see the woman’s half-opened eyes drifting away to an indefinite sleep. Paige was reminded of the cryogenic coffins from the film 2001, and the scientists who were put to sleep on Earth and never awakened. She squeezed her eyes shut. No, that wasn’t going to happen to her!

A pair of strong hands seized Paige’s long hair and pulled her back. Woman’s hands.

“Can’t you do anything right?” the woman shouted over the jet noise.

Paige frowned. Was the woman talking to her?

“You can’t even get here on time, and then you bungle getting Ms. Hendrix ready. You idiots! If I hadn’t shoved this thing in her way, you’d be looking for her until dawn!”

The two hooded men lumbered up. One spread his hands in appeasement.

“Don’t give me that! I need to be wheels up in thirty minutes! Do I have to pack her myself or don’t you care about customer satisfaction? Move!” She shoved Paige into their arms and briskly strode back to the jet.

Behind her, in between the two men, Paige noticed her dark pants, white shirt, and gold stripe epaulets. Straight blonde hair fell past her shoulder blades. The woman climbed inside and reappeared in the cockpit, checking gauges and switches. Whether on purpose or by accident, the woman gazed out briefly at some distant point. Was she perhaps visualizing their final destination? Her sharply angular, almost pinched, face normally would’ve told Paige that this was a no nonsense person. Her recent actions and ensuing yelling certainly reinforced that. But her faraway look implied something more; a search, or quest for a goal she kept hidden. Then her piercing blue eyes briefly met Paige’s, and she smiled.