D2-670A
Part Two
Dr. Heather Landcom sighed heavily as she sat down in the hotel room's expensive
leather recliner. She undid the top button of her white silk shirt and tugged at
the knot of the woven red and black necktie she had chosen to wear for the
corporate meeting. She proceeded to undo the buttons of her black waistcoat and
kick away the three-inch heels she had been wearing. Her matching jacket had
already been discarded and was laying across the slate coffee-table in front of
her.
She'd travelled across the continent for nothing. All the wheeling and dealing,
negotiating and brown-nosing was worthless. The one company that had expressed
anything more than a remote interest in her patent and its associated theories
had regretfully come to the decision that the time and money required to finance
her "Gateway Portal" were simply not economically viable.
Heather wondered if her gender or age had anything to do with the board member's
decision. Not surprisingly, she was one of the only females working in her
field, and at age 33, was certainly the youngest. While she'd generally found
the field of physics more difficult to break into than the typical male
graduate, Heather's keen mind and passion for her work had always seen her
through. She also suspected that her looks had not harmed her level of success,
since she'd yet to meet a potential employer who hadn't been enthralled by her
golden hair, sparkling green eyes, firm bust and long legs.
Not that Heather needed that kind of advantage to beat her rivals into a job.
Only months after graduating with her PhD, she had broken new ground in particle
acceleration research - and from that point on, her professional career had been
a guaranteed success. The only problem was that Heather wanted more. She wanted
to follow her own research interests - interests that centered around the
possibility of other dimensions existing parallel to their own. Of course, no
department, company or conglomerate would ever finance "Extra-Dimensional"
research (as Heather liked to call it) without prior positive results. So the
young physicist had conducted her own pioneer research on her own time using the
equipment at Davidson Global - the company she had worked for up until eight
months ago.
Applying her breakthrough knowledge of particle acceleration to some of the more
complex heat and wavelength theorems, Heather had eventually been ready to
attempt to move an inanimate object from one side of the lab to the other - the
first step in opening the doorway between proposed dimensions. She'd chosen the
gold earring that she'd been wearing - and had never seen it again. More
refining had followed, and 76 days after the original test, the plastic child's
ring she sent through the basketball-sized doorway had reappeared at the other
end of the room. Heather had been ecstatic, but understandably cautious. The
last thing she'd wanted was news of her success leaking out before she was ready
to capitalise on the information. So she'd entrusted only one other person with
the news and a copy of the test's videotape: Daphne Arnold, her 27 year old
research assistant.
And now, here she was eight months later, wiser, but certainly none the richer
for her attempt to take her findings and theories to the business world. Even
Davidson Global had wanted nothing to do with her when she finally let slip what
she'd been able to do. It was as if she'd become some kind of pariah . . .
A brusque knock at the door interrupted Heather's musings. She sighed again and
stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her business-length skirt. She wasn't
expecting visitors, but she'd made quite a few acquaintances in this town over
the years, so it wouldn't be a surprise if one of them had dropped by to say
hello.
Wanting to be presentable, Heather re-fastened the top button of her shirt and
slid the knot of her tie up to rest snugly against her throat. The vest was too
much trouble to re-button so she shrugged it off and tossed it down next to her
jacket. "Coming," she called in response to the second round of impatient
knocking.
Heather walked open to the hotel door and pulled it open. An unkempt bell-hop
stood in the corridor - his tie undone, shirt hanging out, linen trolley beside
him. "Room service?" he inquired politely as he drew a silenced pistol and
pointed it at Heather's forehead.
*****
Rene watched with acute disappointment as the young raven-haired woman was
picked up by the balding man and thrown over his shoulder. Perhaps this world
wasn't that much different after all. Marcus liked to play games with her. So
maybe he had lied about the women on this world being free.
Not that it really mattered. Rene was here now, and although she was still bound
and gagged, she was freer than she had been at any previous point in her adult
life.
Being careful to keep herself hidden behind the bed, Rene watched as the man
carried his prisoner up the stairs and out of the cellar. As soon as he was
gone, she stood and walked over to the workbench. While it may have been a front
for the hidden closet behind it, the bench was home to some very real tools.
And, as Rene noted with relief, tools with sharp edges.
Reaching over, she grabbed at a small hacksaw and positioned it so that it was
wedged between the edge of the table and her ass. Being careful to ensure the
serrated blade did not cut her into her, Rene set about rubbing the straps
binding her wrists against the blade. The first of the straps she targeted began
to fray instantly - a fact that Rene was very thankful for, as she now had two
reasons to free herself and get out of the cellar as quickly as she could.
Firstly, to be away before Marcus or other men from her dimension came after
her; and secondly to rescue the pretty young woman before she was brutalised by
the man holding her captive.
Rene was determined her vision of a new world for herself and women like her
could come true. A world where women did not live as slaves in constant bondage
and with the threat of torture hanging over their heads. Escaping from her own
male master was but the first step in implementing that vision. Escaping from
her inevitable pursuers would be the second, and establishing a safe stronghold
the third. Only then did she plan to return to her world to free as many others
as she could. Rene knew she would need help, and that was where the supposedly
free women of this unfamiliar dimension came in. But if they were the bound and
gagged slaves of males here as well . . .
Then she would just have to start a guerrilla war here first. And the woman
upstairs would be the initial beneficiary of that campaign.
The first of the leather straps binding her wrists abruptly snapped and Rene
felt the lightest of give between her hands.
She smiled around the ball-gag in her mouth.
*****
"C'mon," the man with the gun said impatiently. "Hurry up and get the rest of
your clothes off."
Having already removed her skirt, stay up stockings and tie, Heather paused to
stare at her assailant angrily. "What the hell do you want with me?"
The man ignored her question. "Take off your shirt and bra. Now." He pointed the
gun at her chest. "Don't make me ask you again."
Heather undid the remaining buttons of her silk shirt and slipped out of it to
reveal a set of C-cup breasts framed by a white lace bra. The only other article
of clothing she wore was a matching lace G-string.
"Now the underwear."
As Heather reluctantly reached around behind her back to unfasten the bra, the
unruly bell-hop leant over the linen trolley as if he was fishing around for
something. He stood up again holding multiple coils of white cotton rope in his
free hand. Heather gasped.
"Don't worry, Dr Landcom. This is just to make you comfortable for your trip."
"Trip?"
The man smiled coldly and motioned at her with the gun to finish stripping.
Heather complied hesitantly. She slipped out of her bra, and then while
shielding her naked breasts with one arm, proceeded to pull her panties down
with her other hand. When she was done, the man walked over to stand beside her
and told her to put her hands behind her back. Once again, Heather had little
option other than to comply. Roughly, the man grabbed her hands and proceeded to
bind them together so that her palms were pressed against one another. He made
sure to cinch the coils of rope tightly, and then moved on to bind her elbows
together in a similar fashion. Heather moaned quietly as her upper arms were
tied, and her breasts were thrust forward, but the man's only response was to
knot the rope even tighter.
"Sit down," he ordered, half pushing, half guiding Heather back into the
recliner. She stiffened as her bare ass made contact with the cold leather,
while the man quickly crossed her ankles and bound her feet with yet another
length of rope. He grunted with satisfaction and stood up.
Heather's heart was pounding. She could see the hungry look in his eyes. He
wanted her, and bound like she was, there was nothing she could do to defend her
naked body.
"Don't worry," he said, as if reading her mind. "I'm not going to hurt you. My
orders are to deliver you untouched."
His words did little to reassure her. "Deliver me to who?"
The man shook his head. "No questions for you." Bending down, he scooped up
Heather's panties and woven tie. He balled up her panties and leant over her.
"Open wide."
Heather leant back as far as the recliner would allow her and turned her head
away. "No! You're not putting those in my mouth." In reply, the man's free hand
darted forward to pinch her nose shut. Heather held her breath for as long as
she could, but was eventually forced to open her mouth slightly to breathe.
Instead, she received a mouthful of her own panties as the man stuffed them past
her teeth. Heather coughed, but the man again ignored her as he quickly pulled
her tie between her teeth and wrapped it twice around her head. He then savagely
tied it off at the nape of her neck, pulling her lips back into a perpetual
grimace.
Climbing off her, the man returned to the linen trolley and this time pulled out
a roll of silver duct tape from its depths. He pulled the end of the tape away
from the roll and walked back over to stand above his prisoner, pausing only to
grab one of her stockings from her remaining pile of clothes. Without warning,
he pulled the stocking over her head and then began wrapping the tape around her
head at mouth level. Heather tried to pull away and fight against him, but he
was far too strong for her. Within ninety seconds her entire head had been
encased in duct tape, leaving her blind as well as stringently gagged.
Were it nor for the tape blindfold, Heather would have seen her kidnapper wheel
the linen trolley into the bathroom, and pause over it as if considering his
next move. Then, had she continued watching, she would have seen him bend, and
with an effort, lift the unconscious form of the real bell-hop out of the
trolley and dump him in the bath tub.
Heather, however, did hear the man's next words as he re-emerged from the
bathroom. "Okay, Dr. Landcom, your carriage awaits."
*****
Shana lay tied with each of her limbs bound to the corner legs of a large bed.
She was completely naked and totally exposed.
She was also terrified. Eyes wide and pleading above her tape and packing gag,
Shana watched as her kidnapper re-entered the room, also naked except for a pair
of boxers through which his straining erection was all too apparent.
The dark haired beauty shrieked into her gag, but the mass of cloth in her mouth
and the sticky barrier sealing her lips together did their work more than
effectively.
"What's wrong, princess?" The man grinned, exposing a wide expanse of yellowed
teeth. "I said we were going to get better acquainted. What else did you think I
had in mind?"
Shan shook her head from side to side and thrashed against the ropes binding
her. In response, the man chuckled and climbed onto the bed, straddling his
prone victim. "Don't worry, when I'm done I'll lock you back up down stairs so
you can think about what a bad girl you've been." His eyes narrowed. "You should
have known better . . . Teasing me like that at the bus stop."
Shana stopped thrashing long to frown up at her about-to-be-rapist.
"Oh don't tell me you don't remember, you little cock-tease! The way you sat at
the bus stop on Wilten Road two weeks ago and paraded yourself in front of me -
dressed in that tiny little skirt and tight black top. And those boots! Ohh, you
were asking for it." His hand suddenly shot out to grab her neck. "And I'm about
to give it to you."
"Mmmffggllllppphh!"
Shana suddenly found she was choking beneath the man's tightening grip, and
could do nothing about it besides struggle against her bonds. She felt his other
hand groping her left breast and heard his breathing become shallower. She
couldn't believe it: He was getting off on choking her!
Black spots began to creep in at the corners of her vision, and she felt her
struggles becoming weaker. She tried to scream at him again through her gag, but
found she no longer hand any air in her lungs to power such a cry. In
desperation, Shana focused her remaining energy into a single buck of her hips,
but never really expected it to have any effect. The man's grip on her throat,
however, abruptly loosened as he was propelled backwards off the bed.
No, not propelled. Pulled . . .
As Shana fought to draw in air through her nose, she saw a semi-naked woman at
the end of the bed raising a wooden baseball bat above her head. Without
hesitation, the woman brought the bat down with all of her might and Shana heard
rather than saw the wet impact. The woman tossed the bat aside and, seemingly
satisfied, hurried over to Shana's side.
"Okay, listen up, we don't have much time. I'm going to untie you and then
you're going to help me get to a safe place. I'll tell you why soon. Just nod if
you understand."
Her mind a whirl of confused thoughts, Shana did as she was told.
"Good." The woman immediately ripped the tape away from Shana's mouth in one
painful yank. Needing no further prompting, the younger woman spat out the large
wad of cloth as her mysterious benefactor went to work on the rope binding her
right wrist.
"Thanks," Shana croaked after she had worked some saliva into her mouth. "I
don't know what I would have done without you."
The woman finished with the binding knot and immediately started unravelling the
rope from Shana's wrist. "We're not out of here yet. Just remember what I said."
"What are you worried about? You got him, right? I mean, the guy that kidnapped
us is dead isn't he?"
The woman pulled Shana's wrist free and immediately climbed onto the bed to
reach her other arm. She didn't even spare the younger woman a glance. "He
didn't kidnap me, just you. And I don't know if he's dead. Now stop thinking
about him, and start thinking about the quickest way out of here. I'll explain
everything to you as soon as I'm orientated in this world."
Shana's mouth closed on her reply as the last words the woman spoke registered
with her. This world? What the hell could that possibly mean? Could it be that
she'd run into two insane people in a row? Surely not. The odds would have been
incredible . . .
But then again, it had been a strange kind of day.
Rather than risking any further words, Shana decided to wait until she was free
to assess her next option. There was no point in antagonising the woman freeing
her while she was still half-bound.
Whatever happened, Shana knew one thing for sure. When she got back to campus,
she was going to have one hell of a story to tell Daphne.
*****
Interestingly enough, Daphne Arnold, 27 year old research assistant to and most
trusted employee of Dr. Heather Landcom, was currently in no position to enjoy
any story from her best friend, no matter now bizarre. Instead, she was lying
naked, bound and gagged on a bench while a masked woman clad entirely in black
leather ransacked the laboratory.
Daphne struggled gainfully against the ropes binding her, but the woman in black
knew her knots and Daphne could not reach a single one. Her hands were securely
bound behind her back and linked to her crossed and bound feet via a short
hog-tying rope. Her arms were secured to her sides with more rope that
encircled her torso above and below her moderately sized breasts. But perhaps
most distressingly of all, Daphne's mouth was packed with her own worn underwear
which she had been forced to strip at gun point when the leather clad woman had
first forced her way into the laboratory. The satiny material was held in her
mouth by a knotted scarf that the woman had tied tightly beneath her hair, and
five strips of reinforcing white medical tape that welded her lips together
around the scarf.
The woman threw closed a storage cupboard door and whirled to face Daphne.
"God-DAMN it!" She stalked across the littered laboratory to stand over the
helpless research assistant. "I need to know where you've hidden the tapes, and
I need to know now."
Daphne murmured a moan through her multi-layered gag, trying to convey the
obvious.
"Yes, I know you're gagged," stated the woman. "And that's not going to change.
Just nod in the direction of where the tapes are."
Daphne knew what the woman was talking about, but decided to play dumb.
"Huummupp hhaayy?"
"Don't even try it. We have your boss and she already told us she entrusted the
Gateway portal tapes to you. So unless you want to disappear permanently, I'd
suggest you start nodding." To emphasise her point, the woman drew her silenced
pistol from its holster beneath her leather jacket and pointed it at the bound
and gagged woman's head.
Daphne didn't know whether to believe her assailant about Dr. Landcom, but she
couldn't see any other way out of the predicament she was in. So, with a
resigned nasal sigh, she nodded in the direction of the hidden floor panel.
*****
