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Among the Missing |
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by Rubberwolf
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storycodes: M/f; latex; bond; cons; X |
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By the time that Ann arrived home, it was well past three thirty. It was well past four O’clock by the time she had unloaded her car. She now sat, staring at a small mountain of various bags and boxes that now littered her bed. It was time for a coffee. She also needed to check her e-mails. She walked back in to the living room and booted up her PC. While she was waiting for Windows to load, she walked in to the kitchen and put the kettle on. A few minutes later she strolled back in to the living room clutching a hot cup of coffee. Sitting down, she booted up Explorer and browsed through her inbox. The office had got back to her on the URL addresses that she had sent them and so she downloaded the attached file and opened the contents. Scanning few the addresses, she could see that there were one or two web pages that were visited quite regularly and so she picked one of the more popular addresses and clicked on to it. Fortunately, the office had saved the addresses on to a word document and the hyperlinks were active so that, after a slight delay, the web page came up. She was not surprised at the content and began to flick through the site. The web page had the usual pornographic pictures, links and forum. Idly, Ann scanned through a few of the pictures. After the events of the past few days, Ann was not surprised to find a familiar twinge in her loins, or the dampness seeping in to her knickers, as she found herself more than a little interested in some of the pictures. Coming out of the picture section, she picked a story at random from the latest postings in the packaged section. After half an hour, she found that, not only had she read the entire story, but that she was feeling incredibly horny. Flustered, she clicked on to the forum. Although she could not log on, she could read the contents. She had expected dirty old men, or high court judges. What she found were ordinary people being open about their interest. By flicking back to the URL addresses and cross matching the dates with the postings on the forum, she was able to identify the screen name of her quarry. Armed with this new information she started to read all of the postings made under that screen name. Having learnt all that she could, she then tried a few other sites. More story sites, some groups in Yahoo and other sites that require your credit card details before allowing you access. After nearly an hour, Ann was not surprised to find that her knickers were soaking wet and that she had the urge to play with herself. An urge that she resisted since, having started this case, she had spent more time enjoying herself than actually working for her client. She would, however, revisit some of these sites in her own time. One piece of information that Ann did find interesting however, was that the last site Nicky had visited advertised holidays on an island off of the west coast. This destination, if the marketing hype was to be believed, catered for holidaymakers with specific tastes. Notably, bondage. She would need to clarify this information, but for the meantime, this seemed a promising lead. Having closed down the sites, she returned to her e-mails. The office had sent her another e-mail. This time it was the standard background search on the missing person. Attached were summaries on finances, recent newspaper articles and similar background materials. Although specific details could not be obtained from a bank without a warrant, there were other sources that could be approached. It would amaze most people to know how much information could be collected by marketing companies on buying patterns and lifestyles, such as club memberships, how often a person visits the cinema, or gym, or whether they prefer Italian, or Indian food. An hour later she had a very clear picture of how much was spent and what on. One concern was the amount. Spending exceeded probable wages considerably. Her quarry either had a second source of income, or was in considerable debt. The question was, was the second source legal? If not, or if she was in sufficient debt, would this prompt her disappearance? The newspaper searches were nearly as interesting. Her client was not the mother; rather she was the stepmother, who had married five years ago. Her husband had recently died of a heart attack and, if the newspapers were to be believed, had left a considerable fortune. Scanning the articles, Ann determined that the will would not be read for another two weeks. This might explain the reason for her employment, or even the disappearance. Ann was not sure which, but would need to exercise a little caution in the reports that she submitted until she was sure which. Checking her watch, Ann noticed how late it had become and so rushed for the bathroom leaving a trail of clothes in her wake as she headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later, Ann stepped out of the shower, towelled herself dry and set to work on the difficult decision of what to wear. This was, after all, her first time at a fetish club. However, she needed to fit in. If she dressed too conservatively she might not fit in. On the other hand, she might find herself overdressed for the occasion. In the end, after much rummaging, she decided on a pink, heavily boned rubber corset, with purple trim, with matching knickers. Following the same theme she also chose pink stockings and opera gloves, with pink and purple stiletto boots in patent leather. After twenty minutes of struggling and talcum powder she took a cloth and a spray can of silicon and, as the shop assistant had advised, polished her outfit until she was convinced she could see her face in the smooth reflection. The final item was the dress. Although this was a simple sheath dress, with long sleeves, the bottom of the dress was quite narrow and it took her almost ten minutes to wrestle herself in to the garment. Because she had chosen a corset that left her breasts bare she also had the added difficulty of squeezing her tits in to the snug fitting garment. However, eventually she was able to pull the zipper up so that her breasts were covered, although the cut of the dress offered any onlooker a very nice cleavage shot. However, eventually she found herself staring at herself in the purple dress, with pink trim, in her mirror and admiring the way her new clothes and the wonderful curves that she now possessed. Ann moved to the dressing table and spent another half an hour experimenting with make up until she had achieved a look that both worked with her colouring and complemented her clothes. The end result, she had to admit, was decidedly Barbie does bondage. But she was also pleased with the results. She felt that, if nothing else, she would fit in at the club quite well. Finally, she transferred her purse and keys in to her new, fetish, handbag, which was pink and black patent leather, shaped and laced to look like a corset. For a final touch and to preserve her modesty while travelling to the club, she donned a white PVC raincoat and pulled the belt tightly around her. As an afterthought, before leaving, she picked up a pink rubber posture collar. Although she could not wear this while driving, she had decided that it would match the outfit perfectly. Finally satisfied, she left her apartment and, with growing confidence in her newly discovered posture, strode towards her car with a resounding “Clack, clack, clack”, from her six inch heels. Walking in heels is an art form, especially when the heels in question are six inches in length. Normally the weight is distributed relatively evenly. However, despite choosing boots, she still felt as though she would pitch forward at any moment. Ann therefore had to assume a posture, which while she understood was in fact upright, still felt as though she was leaning back. Despite this disorientation, she had, she felt, developed the knack of walking without either tripping over, or looking like a drunken giraffe. Primarily it involved keeping her legs straight and swinging her hips as she placed one foot in front of another, as though she was walking on a tight rope. Although her progress was slower than her normal brisk walk, she eventually arrived at her car and climbed in. If walking in heels was an art form, then driving in them was a science. Unfortunately, legislative thinking on the control of a motor vehicle tended to view bare feet with scorn, even though it would be less dangerous than trying to control the pedals with a six-inch rod attached to your heel. Rather than simply moving the ankle, especially in these boots, Ann had to move her entire leg, using the stiletto as a fixed pivot point. It was, needless to say, a very jerky journey to Dave’s’ flat. In fact her driving instructor would have pitched a pink fit if he had seen the murder that Ann was committing on her poor defenceless clutch pedal. However, despite this, Ann arrived in good time and even managed not to stall the car as she swung in to the parking bay. Unlike this morning, Ann felt a little exposed as she walked to the flat. Earlier, most of the occupants had been out, either at work, school, or shopping. This evening however, the residents were definitely home. The evidence of recently played with toys was strewn about the green lawn area, while children zoomed past on their cycles. Although they did not appear to notice this strangely dressed woman as she hobbled past, there was tangible hate and scorn in the eyes of the mothers who surveyed her progress with open hostility. The most unsettling reaction came from a group of teen-age boys who marked her progress with a series of whistles and catcalls. Ann was very relieved when she eventually arrived at the entrance to the flats and made her way, as quickly as she could manage, up the stairs to Dave’s’ apartment. Dave was dressed, as she had expected, in rubber. He had again chosen black for his colour scheme. However, rather than the all encasing suit that she had seen earlier, he was now attired in a variety of straps and buckles that, while defying the imagination in their complexity, looked very good on him. As before, he wore a pair of heavy rubber boots. This time however, they were knee high and, like the rest of his outfit, were adorned with straps and buckles. They were also finished with chrome plating on the toe and leg, reminding her of the sort of outfits worn in low budget eighties post apocalypse movies. The type where all of the major cities have been reduced to rubble, the country side is a desert, the populous cherish dog food when they can get it, but there are still alternative fashion shops and bright make up, as well as hair dies in abundance. In any event, Ann was pleased with Dave’s’ appearance. He had obviously gone to a lot of trouble and he did look good in a dog collar, especially this one, with its’ six inch nails. Dave, she noticed, was also appraising her outfit and was pleased, she believed, to see a look of satisfaction, or approval, in his face. Dave invited her in and, once he had taken her coat and bag, led her in to the living room where they cracked open a bottle of wine, while Dave explained about the club and the rules of conduct pertaining to guests. “Unfortunately the club is quite particular on guests. You may attend up to three times as a guest before applying for membership. Each guest must be accompanied by a member and,” Dave hesitated a moment before continuing, “You must be in bondage.” Ann stared at him blankly before asking the obvious question. “What sort of bondage?” “The first time that you go to the club they expect you to have your hands bound. You should also be gagged and be attached to the member by a chain. The owners believe that, in this way, you will get in to the spirit of things quickly. Also, if you happen to be a cop, then the club can rightly claim that you were participating in the activities, rather than observing them. Once you have been three times, you can become a member and, as such dress as you please.” Ann considered this for a moment. She had to admit that it made sense. But what sort of activities happened in the club that would warrant police scrutiny? “OK But how am I going to mingle, or even ask questions, if I am being led about like a tethered goat, especially wearing a gag?” “I have thought about that. The best way is for you to write the questions down before we go. That way I can make enquiries and you can observe. If you notice anything, or want to ask specific questions, you can pop to the ladies room where you’re allowed out of your restraints. That way you can write down what you want to say so that I can act on it. How does that sound?” Ann wasn’t sure. “Look, I do this for a living. I’m not sure you would know what to do, or what to look for, even with me there.” Dave seemed to consider this for a moment before reaching some sort of decision. “Look, I wasn’t altogether honest with you earlier about my job. I am a cop. I know how to ask questions. I could probably go in by myself, but it’s your case. Also, having you along would give me extra credibility without instantly arousing suspicions.” Ann considered this for several moments before eventually accepting. After all, she could see why a cop would not want to announce himself, given his tastes and the damage that Ann could do to his career. As if to underline her decision, she walked over to where she had left her coat and retrieved the posture collar from the discrete carrier bag that it was brought in. “Just as well I thought to bring this along,” she announced, brandishing the garment, “Since I am expected to be lead around by you. Look, it even has a little loop to attach a chain.” Dave’s’ grin split his face in two as he walk over to her and placed the collar around her throat and doing up the laces. Although Ann had an idea of what it would feel like, especially since her earlier costume change, this particular item was far more rigid than she was comfortable with. It was, in fact, quite severe, forcing her head back tightly. Dave walked in to the bedroom, leaving her standing in this uncomfortable position. She could not move, easily, since her head was forced backwards and so she was forced to stand and wait, examining the ceiling, until Dave’s’ return. After a few moments Ann heard him walking towards her and looked down. He moved in to her line of sight, since she could not turn her head without moving her entire body, before she felt her hair pulled roughly back. “Oww” “Open wide,” Dave announced as she noticed something flash past her vision. “That hurts. What are ynghh.” Ann’s’ mouth was suddenly full of something. It was a large round something and Ann could feel straps dangling down the side of her face. The pressure on her hair was released and Ann saw Dave gather the straps and pull them over the top of her head. It was, Ann guessed, a harness of some sort that, as far as she could tell, ran in an inverted Y shape from the edges of the gag to the bridge of her nose, where a steel look connected to more straps that ran over her head. She could still feel other straps hanging from the ball in her mouth. Dave stepped behind her, gathering these, before tightening them behind her. Ann felt another strap running under her jaw. Dave stepped around beside her, and she felt the jaw strap tighten as Dave unbuckled and pull on another strap that ran along her cheek before re-securing it. She was now, Ann felt, well and truly gagged. She could not open her jaw at all. Satisfied with this, Dave returned his attention to the collar, pulling tightly on the laces. Although she had noticed the strange protrusion under the chin, she had only theoretically accepted its’ purpose. This became clear as Dave tightened the straps again and her head was pushed back even further. Although it did not impede her breathing, she still felt very constricted. It was now impossible for her to move her head from side to side, or to lower her head. Dave left her again, returning some moments later. Ann grunted as she felt her arms pulled tightly behind her and forced in to what she now knew to be a single glove, a device that would encase her arms completely, from her wrists, up to her elbows. He then fed a strap from one side of the glove over her shoulder, passing it through a metal loop in her collar, before feeding the end over her left shoulder and buckling it tightly in place to the other side of the glove. After buckling more straps around her wrist and elbows, pulling the latter so tight that her elbows touched, she discovered that this, like her collar, had laces that ran the entire length of the restraint. Dave applied the same attention to detail on these laces, encasing her arms in a tight embrace that it would be impossible for her to escape from. Finally, after collecting his coat, he attached a dog lead to her collar and lead her towards the door, leaving her own coat and bag, where she had left them earlier. Ann tried to protest. She could not go out like this, but Dave was insistent, tugging on her leash with a force that caused her to stagger until she submitted to the humiliation of being displayed like a captive slave. If the stairs had been a challenge before, they were now an Olympic event. However, with Dave’s support, she eventually made it to the bottom of the stairs. Not allowing her to catch her breath, or re-consider, Dave pulled on her leash, forcing her to stagger out in to the dying sun light of the estate. Although only an hour had passed, the streets were now mercifully empty of mothers and children. However, the knot of boys who had taunted her upon her arrival were still there and so were their taunts and insults. Although she had successfully ignored their insults before, she found that, now she was bound and gagged, the charges of whore, accompanied by the inevitable enquiries about price, cut her to the core as she wrestled against the accusations. Although she could shut out their insults, they still cut her deeply. After an eternity, they eventually arrived at the car. But instead of opening the passenger door, Dave lead her to the rear of the vehicle. Ann looked at Dave quizzically as he opened the boot. In answer to her unspoken question, Ann was suddenly bowled off of her feet as Dave shoved her roughly in to the boot and slammed it shut. Ann struggled against her bonds as she writhed to find a comfortable place amongst the confines of the dark compartment, mumbling unutterable curses in to her gag, as she angrily questioned Dave’s’ parentage and relationship with his right hand. This, she realised, was futile and so started kicking the sides of her prison to let her captor know exactly what she thought of the travel arrangements. The only response that she received from Dave was when he started the car engine and reversed out of the parking bay. Ann was not sure how long the drive lasted. Even if she could see her watch, which she had not worn this evening, her pitch-black prison would have robbed its usefulness. She tried to listen to the noises of the car as it travelled. She was able to identify junctions, as the car slowed, stopped and accelerated. The long, unbroken hum, produced by the car was almost certainly a motorway. However, after a while, her mind began to wander as her imagination began to explore her predicament and its potential outcome. In fact, her mind was so busy speculating that she did not notice the car stop or the engine being turned off. The first inkling she had that they might have reached their destination came when Dave opened the boot. Dave reached in to the boot, grabbing his captive roughly as he pulled her in to a sitting position. Then with a little effort, he was able to swing her boots over the rim, so that they dangled in mid air, before grabbing her around the waist and pulling her towards him. Ann fell in to Dave’s arms as she struggled to gain her balance. Although the drive had disoriented her however, she was soon able to regain her composure and take in her new surroundings. She appeared to be in an industrial park. Large impressive buildings and warehouses surrounded her as she stood in a large car park. Unfortunately, it was paved with gravel and Ann winced at the prospect of negotiating her way across it in heels. Ann lost her balance momentarily as Dave dragged her towards a large, but none the less, nondescript warehouse.
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