Laura · Part 1

Laura · Part 1 (1/3)
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With no real drive to ever consider becoming ambitious, Laura sat at the boring sales desk, in her temporary agency role, doing nothing productive, other than filing her nails, and discussing via text, the dress code for Saturday’s girl’s night out.

On the morning of the weekend, Laura paid a visit to the kick boxing gym, where she worthlessly only held a membership, to gain the interest of a small-time unimpressionable drug peddler that she liked, but who’d never noticed her, mainly because he circled in leagues much higher.

When the evening arrived, seven girls, six of whom dressed in white bridal dresses, and the girl soon to be married wearing a black funeral gown, descended upon a popular tourist town in the north of England.

Young and wild, they enjoyed their own company, losing one single girl after another as the drunken men became more and more tempting.

Late into the night, Laura visited the ladies room for a sniff of a little pick-me-up she’d scored from her guy at the gymnasium that same morning.

Hiding the sound of her snorting with a flush, she opened the toilet door and headed straight towards the mirror, to check for traces of white powder under her nose.

Now on a high, she took pity on a bored looking girl standing next to her, and offered her a sample from the little white bag in her purse.

It didn’t register in Laura’s head, when the miserable woman introduced herself as police, and flashed an ID card that had words to that effect on it. The handcuffs being pulled from the police woman’s handbag however, shocked Laura and woke her from her personal bubble of everything being good.

“Put your hands behind your head,” the woman ordered.

Startled, Laura slowly raised her hands, one by one, and placed them on the back of her head, under the supervision of what she couldn’t believe to be a police officer.

Not wishing to take her eyes off the shiny cuffs, the police woman stepped behind Laura and turned her to face herself in the mirror. She watched in disbelief as the bracelet ratcheted closed before the experienced police woman adjusted her grip, to twist Laura’s arm down behind her back, and tighten the jaws further with her fingers and thumb.

Because of the requirement for concealment, the cuffs had a short chain between them, instead of the standard rigid speed cuffs she would use if she’d been in uniform.

Realising that she’d be in a lot of trouble if she didn’t react soon, and being the only two people in the toilets, Laura twisted her body around, bringing her arm to her front, as the clicks continued to tighten the metal’s grip during the struggle.

Sensing the makings of resisting arrest, the police woman attempted to call for backup, but before she could utter a word, Laura had a knee heading in her direction, at pace, landing in her solar-plexus, and removing the very breath from her body, that she needed to speak.

Hunching over, she let go of the free handcuff, giving Laura the chance to step back, and go in for a second hit.

Raising her knee and straightening her leg this time, she landed the laces of her trainers, slightly below the police woman’s ear, sending her head sideways where it collided with the porcelain of a sink basin, on her way down to the floor.

Loud music coming through the opening door warned her that she had less than seconds to get away from the scene, before whoever came around the corner next, associated Laura’s face with the sight of a passed out girl on the tiled floor.

Without hesitation, she ran for the exit, slowing to a more casual pace as she rounded the corner, hiding behind her back, the handcuffs attached to her left wrist.

Head down, she passed the two drunken girls, before making a tactful dash for the exit of the club, avoiding eye contact with anybody on the way.

Leaving her handbag proved to be her greatest regret, but too late to go back and retrieve it now, she headed for the cover of trees in an area of greenery, leading from the town centre to a more urban area of housing.

Aware of drawing attention to herself by looking like a ghost running through the darkness in her bridal gown, she knew she needed to hide, and find a change of clothes, or at least disguise the dress in some way.

Countryside ranger, Mike, crept quietly around his parents’ house, where he’d been staying for a few days, before having to return back to work early Sunday morning.

His outdoor gear resided in a storage shed at the end of his parents garden, which currently remained unlocked as he hadn’t yet finished packing everything into the back of his Wildlife Trust pickup truck.

Although the outside security light had timed out, from the upstairs window, he could see the figure of somebody prancing around the garden next door, in an unusual manner, especially for this time in the morning.

The sight of a feminine silver shadow rolling over his parent’s fence with the flipping of her legs in a rotating scissor kick, and retriggering the rear security light as she landed on his side, heightened his attention.

Clearly drunk, he watched the girl holding on to the fence with both hands, one clutching a bunch of clothes, but more noticeably, the other bearing a shiny bracelet, with a gleaming handcuff dangling from it, reflecting the light like a mirrored beacon.

Stumbling at first, the girl headed for the cover of the wooden shed, seeing that an unlocked padlock hung uselessly on the open staple and hasp of its door.

Forced into action, but conscious of not waking his parents, he crept slowly and quietly down the stairs, and out of the back door, into the brightly lit garden.

Nervous, he peered in through the window to see a semi naked woman wearing nothing but a pale yellow crop-top, stepping into a pair of shorts, aside the bundle of a bridal gown that she’d changed out of.

The handcuffs and wedding dress gave away that she’d been on a night out with friends, so being a jovial fellow, he played along with the obvious prank by cupping his hands to his mouth and speaking through the crack of the shed door.

“COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP, YOU’RE COMPLETELY SURROUNDED,” he joked, with his imitation American accent, reciting the lines of a cheesy police movie.

Frozen stiff, she paused before fastening the top button of her shorts, to not move a muscle, hoping that the person speaking would go away and leave the area deserted, like it had been when she’d arrived.

Seeing Mike enter through the door, she popped the button through its hole and stood on guard, ready to tackle what lay ahead.

“Hi," he introduced himself. “You hiding from your mates?”

“What?” She replied, confused at his calm demeanour.

“The wedding party, and the handcuffs," he said, pointing to her left arm that she so blatantly tried hiding behind her back.

Equally as nervous, he absorbed the sight of the girl before him, wearing trainers, with white socks, a short sleeve high cut top, and the tightest of denim shorts, which made her athletic thighs look chunkier than they actually were, confirming that she’d stolen the clothes from somebody, of a lesser size.

“Erm. Yes.” She nervously laughed.

“Do you need a taxi?” He suggested. “I could give you a lift, but we hardly know each other.”

“Erm, no," she stuttered, bringing her cuffed wrist up in front of her, in explanation of not being able to get a taxi. “Don’t suppose you could cut this off could you?”

“Sorry, no," he apologised, “Not till morning anyway, but I’m leaving for work soon, so no.”

“Well what should I do?" she asked, throwing her dilemma in his direction.

“Wrap that dress around your arm and get a taxi.” He pointed to the heap of white cloth on the floor.

“I can’t," she explained, becoming desperate with fear of him ejecting her from the safety of the wooden hut. “These aren’t from my friends, they're from the police.”

Calculating how true it could be for the beautiful wide eyes in front of him, to be in trouble with the police, he took in a deep breath.

“I was seen with a bit of gear and they tried to arrest me, but I ran," she confessed, playing down the situation, whilst hoping to gain a little sympathy. “That’s why I’ve borrowed these clothes off your neighbours washing line and I’m hiding in here. I just need to keep my head down for a while.”

“Drugs?”

“Only a bit," she excused herself, “I’m not a fucking dealer.”

“Well, do they know who you are? Or where you live?”

“They’ve got my purse. I lost it when I ran.”

“Bloody hell," he said, holding his head in his hands and rubbing his face up and down, like a man torn with decision. “You’ll get a year just for running.” He looked at her desperate eyes. “You should hand yourself in and take the caution for the drugs.”

“No," she snapped. “I can’t.” She approached Mike in the hope of building up a little trust. “I can’t face that.”

Keeping her eyes magnetically locked onto his, she positioned herself in front of him with her hands raised and gently touched his forearms. “Can you help me?”

Suckered in by the beauty before him, he took her side, but refused to make any special efforts by committing to anything out of his way. “I’m heading up north in a few hours, I could give you a lift somewhere if you want.”

“That would be great," she smiled, “Where are you going?”

“I’m not taking you with me," he replied, “I’m going up to Northumberland for a couple of weeks, somewhere near the Scottish border where I’m working.”

“Scotland might be a good option," she jumped at the chance.

“Scotland?” He shook his head, “I didn’t say I’d give you a lift to Scotland.”

“Please," she looked longingly into his eyes, “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”

Mike huffed and looked at his watch. “We’ll have to go now if I’m to take you up there.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she bowed her head and pressed her ear into his chest.

“I’m Laura, by the way.”

“Hi Laura.”

Not feeling his arms around her, she took a step back.

“Mike," he replied, holding out his right hand for her to shake.

Excited, Laura looked him up and down, drunkenly lusting for the first time at the clean-shaven harmless look on his cute face.

“Why do you have to be so attractive?” he complimented her, almost sounding annoyed, but without concern for any inappropriate language.

“Thank you," she smiled back at him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” The finger of her cuffed wrist poked a muscular peck of his chest as she spoke.

“Can’t you hide that thing?" he asked, referring to the unoccupied cuff hanging down from its chain links.

“Can we go?” She pressured him, knowing that the police would be out everywhere, looking for her.

“Ok. Wait here while I get my bag.” Mike stepped out of the shed, only to be called back by Laura.

“Could you lock the door behind you, so that if the police come, they will see that I can’t possibly have got in here?”

“Jesus. You’re paranoid," he said, turning and lifting the padlock from where it hung. “You’ll have to break a window if you want to get out.” So, as requested, he closed and locked the door behind him.

Slowly comprehending what had just happened, he grabbed his belongings and finished packing his truck, before securing his parents’ house and going to collect Laura.

“Hi.” She beamed a smile of relief to her liberator as he opened the door.

“Shhh," he said quietly, taking hold of her hand and guiding her out onto the grass.

Before climbing into the passenger seat, she released her long main of dark hair from its coiled up bun, and re-used the elasticated hair tie to keep it neatly behind her head, in a single ponytail.

On their journey, the couple got to know each other with Laura explaining her boring job and Mike fascinating her with his caring tails of being a countryside ranger, working for the wildlife trust.

Away from the motorways, he drove towards the Scottish border, close to where he himself wanted to be, to make it easier for him after dropping her off.

The more they talked, the more Mike realised that this girl’s only choice in Scotland would be to sleep rough, so to save her from a downward spiral into homelessness, he offered her to stay in his lodge for a night.

Her thanks became interrupted by a telephone call to Mike from his mother.

“Everything ok mum?" he asked, concerned about the call coming in at 3am.

“I think so son, are you ok?”

“Fine. What’s wrong?”

“Well we’ve had the police knocking at the door, asking questions about reported suspicious activity on our estate. They said they’re looking for a person, a lady, who they believe might be hiding in this area, who has seriously assaulted a police woman, and who’s in hospital in a coma. They wouldn’t say anything else, they just asked me to pass on their details, for you to contact them and let them know if you saw or heard anything, because I said you were up and packing around that time.”

Mike scowled towards Laura, showing his disapproval at being forced to lie to his own mother.

“No mum, nothing. It might be worth checking that the shed is locked before you go back to bed though, I don’t want any violent fugitives breaking in while I’m away.”

“Ok son, but I’ll send you the details of the police for if you do remember anything.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, he began shouting at Laura.

“You put a fucking police woman in a fucking coma and then you fool me into helping you get away?”

The look on his face told her that this wouldn’t end well.

“I can’t be part of this," he said, slowing to a stop at a junction where he could turn around. “I’m taking you to the police station.”

In a panic, as soon as they stopped, she whipped her seatbelt off and jumped out of the truck.

Mike quickly did the same and chased her, forcing her to stop running when he rounded her up towards the curve of a hedgerow where the road cornered sharply.

At maximum stress, she swung her fist, and clocked him on his cheekbone, buying her valuable time to sprint back towards the open truck, with its engine still running, behind him.

Temporarily stunned, he gave chase once again, catching hold of her before she could get to the driver’s door.

By gripping his hands around her belly, he pinned her arms to her sides and gently lowered her wriggling body to the floor, where he carefully lay her face down, and placed his knee in her back.

“I think we can justify using these now," he said, grabbing hold of her free wrist and the empty handcuff.

She initially fought, but promptly gave in to his superior strength, screaming as a last resort of protest. “Get the fuck off me!”

But the cuff ratcheted closed with ease, tightening down to match the size of the other, already fitted to her opposite arm.

Breathing heavily, he dragged her to her feet, through the blazing headlight beams, and around to the passenger side of the pickup, where her door awaited wide open.

“Fierce little minx aren’t you?”

“I’ll tell them that you kidnapped me," she spat.

“What you talking about?”

“If you turn me in, I’ll tell them that you brought me up here against my will and that I was trying to go to the police myself.”

Slamming the door at her side, he ran around to climb back into the driver’s seat, and reached over to strap her in.

“Please Mike.”

Seatbelt in his hand, the remnants of her perfume and strength of alcohol occupying his nostrils, gave his eyes permission to lock onto her tits as he stretched his arm over her shoulder.

Looking into her drunken vulnerable stare gave him an overwhelming feeling of forgiveness, mixed with excitement, as he became mesmerised by even more beauty than he’d first realised.

“Please?” Her voice began to squeak, followed by waterworks and relentless sobbing.

“One night," he said, bowing to the upset that he’d brought on. “One night. Then we get those things off you and you can uncross my path, and stop leading me astray. OK?”

Her crying slowed to a snivel when the truck thankfully set off in the same direction as they’d been travelling before.

Standing alone, the cabin had been purposely built against an incline of a rock face to help protect it from the elements. Constructed on a split level, with the inside having three steps up, in the middle, and a banister spanning its whole width, separating the front lower half from the rear.

Groggy, dry mouthed and tired, Laura stopped at the entrance to her new safe haven, unable to guide herself or touch any of the woodwork, having her hands regrettably restrained behind her back.

“Nice," she opened the conversation.

“Not a bad place for a couple of weeks?” Mike commented, jumping up the three steps to slide his bags in the far left corner of the cabin, by the side of the bed. “Then it’s off to the lakes for a month.”

“I’ll be having the couch," he announced, walking back to meet his criminal guest, who moved towards him from the frame of the outside door.

“Cut the bullshit.” She smacked her lips against his mouth in a drunken move, throwing him off guard. “I saw you looking at me in the car, and we both know I can’t sleep on my own like this.”

Stuck for chat up lines, he responded with a ticking off, “As much as I’m glad that you’re being gorgeously troublesome, just remember, you are on borrowed ground here, so try not to abuse it!”

“I’ve seen that you can’t take your eyes off my chest," she confidently acknowledged, walking in and doing a full lap around the body of the cabin, holding his stare of amazement at her boldness and audacity. “And I can’t believe you fucking put these on me!”

Up close to him again, she turned sideways and jolted the chain of her cuffs in protest.

“You punched me in the face! What did you expect me to do? You’ve already hospitalised a copper!”

Standing still, she sighed and looked down at his feet. “Sorry.” Her head tilted back up to his height. “I panicked when you said you were going to hand me over to the police.”

“Well there’s nothing I can do about those things now.”

“There is," she replied, “I need to pee.”

Mike nodded his head and carried out the intimate task of pulling down her shorts and wiping her clean afterwards, all the time accepting each of his duties as a consequence of his own fuck up.

“OK. Bed," he insisted. “I’m supposed to be at work in a few hours.”

Laura kicked off her footwear and shuffled into the bed as best she could, laying on her side to prevent painful pressure from the cuffs on her wrists.

Mike stripped down to his boxer shorts and settled in facing away from her.

“You’re allowed to look at me you know.” Still under the influence, she invited him to turn over and join her. “I know I’ve fucked up, but right now I could do with a cuddle.”

As he turned over, so did she, giving him the opening to spoon her, with his daring hand cupping her lowermost breast that weighed down upon the mattress.

“Thank you," she whispered.

Two hours late for work, Mike woke to his exciting nightmare of a scenario.

Even more groggy and hungover, Laura woke to his movement, and questioned his rushing around.

“I’m late," he told her, throwing on his trousers.

“Well what about me?” You can’t seriously leave me like this.”

“We have no choice.”

“What if I need the toilet?”

“Stand up," he sighed, sitting himself down on the bed as she stood, with her back to him.

Reaching around her waist, he unfastened the over stressed shorts and struggled to pull them down to her ankles, along with her underwear, so she could step semi naked, onto the varnished wooden floor.

The sight of her bare cheeks immediately in front of his face proved too tempting to resist, so guided by his hands on her hips, he gently pecked the soft flesh of one side.

“That’s quite sweet," she thanked him.

“I’m not going to turn you in," he told her, “You can stay here for as long as you need.”

“Thank you. But what about these?” She rattled her handcuffs in front of his face.

“I’ll deal with them," he promised.

Standing up, with these extra thoughts and responsibilities, he left for work allowing Laura the run of the cabin, albeit for the restriction of her hands, locked behind her back.

Being Sunday, a search online directed him to a fishing and shooting shop in the town that seemed to stock boy’s toys, like combat knives and air guns, which looked promising enough to also sell handcuffs, or better still, handcuff keys. A different search for the status of the injured police woman, brought up nothing relevant, other than results from historic reports in different areas, which sent his sleep deprived mind into a frenzy of determination.

Copying, cropping and a lot of creativity became his addiction, not ending until he’d produced a convincing enough fake news article, indicating that the police woman in question had unfortunately died.

This simple, yet mighty power, available at his fingertips would be a better alternative to any physical restraint, if he were able to fool his cute little captive into staying in hiding with him, voluntarily.

The satisfaction of his clever achievement made him feel superior and untouchable from the reality of the life around him.

Entering the shop, Mike asked the assistant behind the counter if he sold handcuff keys. The man replied no, but pointed out that thumb cuffs, handcuffs and leg cuffs all use the same standard universal key, and so the cheapest option for him would be to buy a set of thumb cuffs, which would give him two keys.

Before he could commit to asking for them, a voice called over. “How you doing, Mike?”

A second shop assistant had recognised him from his working out in the field, and spooked him from this embarrassing predicament, into turning away from the glass display counter.

The two talked and the other assistant served a man buying fishing gear, allowing Mike the chance to distance himself from having anything to do with the talk of handcuff keys.

Eager to get back to the cabin, he cut short his day, promising himself that he would catch up on his work over the next week.

The lodge showed more signs of life than normal, having its windows open, but curtains unusually closed, to conceal its occupant.

Inside, he didn’t expect to see Laura dressed again, but in his absence, she’d managed to step over her cuffs, bringing them to the front and allowing her to pull her shorts on again with relative ease.

“Oh well done," he praised her, “I nearly got a key for those today, but someone recognised me and I had to abandon the idea.”

“What do you mean abandon the idea?” She replied, annoyed at the thought of spending another night in handcuffs. “Well what about cutting them off?”

“I’ll have another look tomorrow.”

Mike’s casual attitude to her, unnecessary discomfort, riled her anger, so much so that she held her hands up in front of his face and shook them in an intimidating way.

“Get these fucking things off me!”

Feeling threatened, and before she attacked him again, Mike turned away and grabbed hold of a climbing rope, coiled up, ready for use with a metal carabiner clip attached to one end.

Holding the spring loaded clip, he threw the coil of rope over the wooden roof beam above Laura’s head, distracting her long enough for him to snap the metal clip around the chain between her handcuffs, and lunge for the falling rope behind her.

“AAAHHH!” She shouted, more in dismay than of being in any pain, as her hands were hoisted high up above her head.

The metal climbing clip could be easily removed from the handcuff chain, if he were to allow her a little slack in the rope to unhook herself from its clasp. Mike knew this, and purposely tied off the end of the rope around the banister, ensuring her heels were off the floor, so she wouldn’t be able to raise up any further, to free herself.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she screamed.

“You need to stop being so violent," he warned her.

The two entered a short stare off by looking into each other's eyes, before Mike dropped his gaze to check out his captive.

“Very nice.” He watched her dancing on the balls of her feet, unable to fall over with her hands suspended high above.

The pale yellow top of hers exposed her midriff, above the high waist of the shorts that squeezed her body into the shape they commanded, openly inviting his hand to touch the skin on display.

“If you kick out at me I’ll tie your feet," he warned her, trailing his hand around her waist as he walked behind.

Pulling her ponytail aside, he sniffed her neck, sending a tingling through her body, where she could do nothing about his hands moving up, to cup her breasts.

Having only her voice left to defend herself, she asked, “Is this going to be one of those kidnapping cases that you hear about on the news where you abuse me for your own sexual pleasure?”

Staying behind her, he slid his hands down her curvy form to fondle her firm rump, before taking a step back.

By design, the shorts she had stolen from the clothes line, fit around her stretched up tummy, sitting tightly above her pelvic structure, and enhancing her figure. The solidity of her plump firmness created much tension against the demands of the denim’s strength, brought on by the attractive, shapely body inside.

“I’m not going to abuse you, I’m trying to help you," he reassured her. “Although I have to admit, your backside does look irresistibly slap-able in these tight things," he said, swatting the exquisite denim cladding of her bottom, as he walked around in front of her.

Looking at her head, framed by her arms, he placed his hands on her cheeks and stroked her face with his thumbs.

“Beautiful, and helpless?” He whispered secretly, urging her body to submit. “Where do I start?”

Laura closed her eyes to not show any emotion, as her stomach did somersaults and her vaginal muscles twitched uncontrollably.

The ensuing kiss sent electricity through her body, creating a sensation she didn’t know possible. But his taste disappeared all too soon, leaving a noticeable drop of saliva on her chin.

“It should be me spitting in your face for hauling my wrists up here like this, not you leaving your dribble all down mine.”

“Well if you ask nicely, I might let them down.” He dared her to beg for release.

Laura · Part 1 (1/3)
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