Miss Lonely Heart · Part 1 (1/2)
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It was early evening of a bleak winter day. Edith was sitting at her work table in the lounge of her small but comfortable cottage in middle class suburbia.
She was thirty six, thin and spare with a somewhat narrow face, a pointed chin framed by short brown hair. Tonight she was wearing a plain skirt with a soft white blouse. She was a librarian by occupation, wore glasses and looked exactly how she could perhaps be described. A single lady, living alone and drifting towards middle aged spinsterhood. She had few interests, other than reading and was not sporting or particularly social in any way. The pub/club scene left her cold.
However, she was known as a pleasant, agreeable person and, to give her her due, had sought partnership before. Twice in earlier years, she had been engaged but both times it had been broken off. In each case it had seemed it might not work in the long run. She was a sensible, practical woman who had standards.
Now she relied on the personal columns of newspapers for social contacts. Of recent years she had met many social misfits and a few opportunists who thought she was a wealthy widow or divorcee. It had been dispiriting but she she had persisted. It was far from successful and she had not had a sexual experience in years. But for her, there was literally nothing else. And so tonight she was doing what had become routine for her.
She was seated at the desk at one side of her lounge/ dining room preparing an advertisement to go in the Personal Relations columns of a local paper. On the desktop was her typewriter, a thick manilla folder containing all the paperwork of her personal social contacts for years, none of it very successful and a folded copy of the local district newspaper in which her completed ad would appear.
It followed what had become the usual format. "Lady, mid thirties……intellectual tastes, enjoys cinema, theatre……. wishes to meet male companion of similar turn of mind." She balked at the phrase "view matrimony." Sometimes she wondered if she should include what she did for a living but decided against it. That could come later if the situation developed. So far it never had.
She had almost finished typing this up when something happened which would change her life completely.
A faint sound was heard, the side door had just clicked shut. Someone had entered Edith's house. She was at once concerned but not overly frightened. She was not a coward. Break ins and home invasions were not common in this neighbourhood and there was literally nothing worth taking here. Be calm, she thought, very calm and they'd go away when they learned that. Apprehensively, but not terrified she stood up.
"Who's there?" she called. Soft footsteps along the passageway leading to the lounge room door. "Who's there?" she called again. "Who are you?"
A woman appeared in the lounge room doorway. Perhaps somewhat older than Edith, slightly shorter and solider, and she looked fit and active. She wore a tightly belted grey overcoat, a close fitting dark hat and dark glasses. A scarf had been wound several times around her head, completely hiding her face. She had a cloth shopping bag slung over one shoulder.
"Good evening Edith," she began quietly, "Sorry to intrude but I have little business here tonight. But I'll get on with it and then I'll be on my way and leave you in peace."
"What? What is this? A robbery?" said Edith incredulously, "And how do you know my name? Anyway I don't have any jewellery or valuables to speak of. There's only my housekeeping money. There's nothing of value here. You've obviously come to the wrong place."
"Let me be the judge of that Edith." It could almost be assumed she was smiling underneath the folded scarf. "But right now it becomes necessary to tie you up. Perhaps to this chair you've been sitting on. I looks solid and firm and it's got a soft padded seat so you'll be comfortable."
"That's quite unnecessary," said Edith, "And what's more…" But the woman moved forward, taking her by the arm forced her to sit down in the chair she had got up from only a moment before. At once she could feel the visitor was very much stronger than herself. The intruder put her shopping bag on the desk and took out some strips of cloth. She was wearing black leather gloves.
"Just be calm, relax and you'll feel better," came the advice. The woman knelt, crossed Edith's wrists behind the back of the chair and bound them securely with two of the strips. Next she lashed her upper ams to the side supports of the chair back. Another strip was looped several times around her slim waist and tied to a cross bar. Then a longer strip was wound around and around her thighs and under the chair seat. Finally her ankles were lashed securely to the lower parts of the front chair legs.
"Well now," said the woman straightening up and surveying her handiwork, "That should hold you. Just one thing more Edith. A gag for your pretty mouth." She reached inside her bag.
"You don't have to do that," protested her captive, "I'm not the hysterical type. I won't scream. I'll be quiet while you're here."
"I'm sure you will," once again it could be assumed the woman was smiling under her mask, "It's what you'll do when I'm not here that concerns me." By now she had a prepared gag, a damp pad tied in the middle of a narrow cloth strip, in her hand. "Open wide please."
"Please. It's not necessary. I…mffff…" Whatever Edith might have said was lost as the gag was forced into her mouth and then tied firmly at the back of her head.
"There,"said the woman stepping back and looking at the bound librarian, "You look like a neatly wrapped package. Just relax. Don't struggle. It'd be a waste of time anyway. And now, to business." She picked up her shopping bag and looked around.
Business, it seemed was quite simple. She walked to a small table on the other side of the room on which stood a porcelain statuette of Asian origin about forty centimetres high that Edith had never given much thought to. She picked it up, examined it critically, then carefully wrapped it in a soft cloth from her bag and stowed it away. The bound and gagged Edith watched this with some puzzlement. Was that what she'd come here for?
Edith did not realize what was really happening. This statuette had come to her two years ago, inherited from an elderly uncle who had been a world renowned collector of oriental art. On his death his collection, worth millions, had gone to museums. His family had only received a few items, thought to be quite valueless. However, this item, which came to her, had somehow slipped through the net.
In reality it was over five hundred years old, the work of an historically recognized artist and worth tens of thousands. Edith was quite unaware of this.
But a less than scrupulous collector was not. And he had arranged for it to be stolen to order. Hence the reason for Edith's visitation this night. And her being tied up in her own lounge room.
"Well then," said the woman, "That's that." She seemed pleased the whole operation had gone so smoothly and successfully and stroked her captive's cheek playfully with a gloved hand. "Time for me to go. I'll arrange for you to be released." Just how, she didn't say. "But first I'll check your bonds." This was unfortunate for Edith. While her captor had been wrapping the statuette she had been quietly straining at her lashings and had loosened one of her ankle bindings. The woman saw this, "Oh, you naughty girl." Clearly, she was in a good mood, "Now I'll just have to re-tie that." She knelt to do so.
As she did this, her eyes, level with the desk top, noticed the just typed message. Which she read in full as she re-bound Edith's foot.
"So," she said, straightening up, "You're into the Lonely Hearts columns?" She picked up the manilla folder which contained all of Edith's correspondence in this field for the last two years. Its owner grunted and mewed her disapproval but the tight and efficiently tied gag prevented her from saying a word. The woman ignored her and studied the file carefully, particularly the recent additions. She read for some minutes and then put it back where she had found it. "You haven't been very successful, have you?" was her comment, "Social failures, ner-do-wells and some obvious fortune hunters. No one to suit a woman like yourself." The compiler of the file glared at her but did not attempt to make any sound. Sadly, what she had said was the truth.
"Well," the woman continued, turning away slightly, "There are other ways you know." She turned back. "But I suppose you're not the girl to try them, are you? I'll bet you haven't had a fuck in years." Edith winced at the language but once again, it was all so sadly true. "Possibly I could help you, but meanwhile," a mischievous lilt crept into her voice, "There's something I can do for you now. After all, this business has gone extremely well. You've been very co-operative." She removed one of her black leather gloves.
Kneeling again beside the chair she undid the binding holding her captive's thighs to the seat and then peeled back the top of her skirt, exposing her underwear. Edith strained and mewed into her gag but could not say a word. She writhed and heaved but the other bonds held her fast. The woman laughed softly, "Take it easy darling. I'm only going to masturbate you. Which I suspect you do yourself on occasion. So just relax and enjoy yourself while I do it. You'll find me quite skilled."
Edith felt far from relaxed but there was nothing she could do to stop her captor. Who went straight to work. She pulled down her knickers, exposing her vaginal orifice and then began to deftly caress it. And skilled indeed she was. Within short minutes she had Edith moistening and twitching and, in spite of herself, she began to respond. Her eyes closed, her head arched back and, though firmly gagged, she started to grunt ecstatically. "That's right darling," murmured her mentor, "Just let it go and enjoy it." And let it go she had to. Within several minutes she ejaculated violently, straining and shuddering against her bonds, which were barely able to hold her. Her moan of pleasure would have been heard out in the street, but for the gag in her mouth.
"That must surely have been a relief," mused the woman, still continuing her manipulative caresses for some minutes after the climax. Edith simply lay limp and flaccid. Finally she stopped, readjusted her captive's skirt and re-tied her thighs to the seat of the chair. "I trust it's pleased you," she said standing up. She replaced her black glove, quickly checked her captive's bonds, picked up her shopping bag and made ready to go.
"Time for me to be on my way," she pronounced. "I'll see to it that someone comes and unties you." And then she was gone. Edith lay motionless with her eyes closed.
About an hour later the police came, let themselves in through the unlocked front door and untied her. They said they'd had an anonymous phone call, saying there had been a robbery at this address and that a woman had been left bound and gagged. They checked she was alright and asked if she needed to go to a hospital for a medical examination. She declined, they then did an investigation, asked questions and made notes. She told everything, except how she had been teased to orgasm. They said it seemed like a theft to order and were not confident the item would be easily recovered. They also asked if she wanted to go somewhere or needed someone to come and stay with her. Again she declined. After a couple of hours they left, saying they would look into the matter. Edith, by now very tired, went to bed.
Eight days later on a wet evening, Edith was coming home late after having seen a film. The police had been to see her twice since the robbery and seemed to think there was little chance of getting the statuette back. She resolved not to worry about the loss of something, the value of which she had never known anyway. Indeed she still really did not know what she had lost. There was no record anywhere of its real worth. Very sensibly, she had decided to put whole affair behind her and get on with her life.
She had been to the cinema on her own, as usual. The film had not been outstanding but had filled in the evening. It had been raining slightly when she set out and she had worn an old grey raincoat but it had now stopped.
She left her local railway station, walked across a reassuringly well lit public park towards her own street. It was a cul-de-sac which ended at the far side of the park. There was a small grove of trees right at the end of the street and here she noticed something odd. An unmarked tradesman's was parked there, almost completely in the shadow of the trees. Surely, she thought, no tradesman would be working at this hour. The number plate, illuminated faintly by a street light, attracted her attention. The three numbers were by coincidence the date and month of her sister's birthday. The three beginning letters were ABO. 'All bets off,' she mused. Not that she was interested in racing.
She walked on, up her street, it did not occur to her she had unthinkingly memorised the identification of this unusually parked vehicle.
Reaching her home she went to her front door. The porch was dark and shadowy, due to several trees in her front yard. She took the keys from her raincoat pocket and opened the door. And then it happened.
A gloved hand was clamped over her mouth and a firm arm encircled her forearms and clamped them close to her body. She was being overpowered from behind. She struggled but her assailant, presumably a man, was too strong for her. "Good evening Edith," whispered
Miss Lonely Heart · Part 1 (1/2)
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