Outward Bound · Part 2 (2/2)
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n unspoken but unambiguous command to get out of the boat. She clambered over the edge and onto the soft wet sand, still with high hopes of her freedom being returned to her in the near future.
But now his grip on her upper arm increased, as he pushed her ahead of him away from the shore and onto the uneven machair landscape beyond. Glancing back at her captor, she saw the brown bag slung over his shoulder and her heart sank once more. He hadn't untied her legs out of compassion, but had done so out of necessity, to save him from carrying her. Although she wasn't a bit religious, Jessica began to pray now: please God, get me out of this mess. She almost said the words out loud, although she doubted that if she had, they would have been intelligible even to a deity.
Within three minutes they'd reached the island's summit, no more than twenty feet above sea level, and had begun to descend towards the other shore. From up here, Jessica was able to gather that this particular lump of sea battered rock that he'd brought her to was roughly oval shaped and, apart from the odd stunted, windswept shrub and the occasional grey shaft of granite that had managed to stay aloof from the thin soil and grass, the whole place seemed featureless and bleak. But there was something else up ahead nestling in a slight decline.
At first glimpse Jessica assumed that it was simply a rocky outcrop, but as they drew nearer it became apparent that this, aside from being the same colour as the rocks, was anything but a natural part of the landscape. In fact, it appeared to be the only man made feature on the whole island. As they approached ever closer, Jessica saw that she was being led towards the ruined remains of a crofter’s taigh-dubh cottage. Long abandoned, the now roofless structure was in a state of total dereliction, with the windows and doorway now empty cavities, and with sections of the once very tightly fitting dry-stone walls now lying strewn around the immediate vicinity.
Piloting his stricken captive towards the ancient doorway, it didn’t take Jessica long to realise that this ramshackle hovel was their final destination. Protesting, both verbally and by digging her heels in and trying to stop their inevitable passage, did nothing to halt her unwilling entrance into the remains of the building, as he simply tightened his grip on her shoulder and forcibly propelled her into the former dwelling. Jessica gazed at the debris-strewn, flagstone floored interior. What were his intentions now that they were here? Did he plan to keep her here indefinitely? With the cottage no longer fit for habitation, open to the elements and with no door, Jessica took a crumb of comfort from the fact that there was no way he could lock her in here… or was there?
Steering her through an archway from the main room into a smaller chamber, Jessica felt his grip on her arm loosen, and for several seconds she was free from his clutches. Her first instinct now was to run. But how far would she get? With her hands useless to her, running over the rough terrain was going to be hazardous in the extreme. And with him still in such close proximity, he would be likely to recapture her within seconds. And what would he do to her then? Would her precarious situation be made even more intolerable if she angered him? She decided that now was not the best time to attempt anything that might cause him to further restrain her.
But what was he doing? Getting down on his hands and knees, Jessica could only watch as he grabbed hold of one of the flagstone slabs that littered the floor and began to push this away to one side. The stone was obviously extremely heavy, and it took all of his strength to shift it. But after a few seconds, his efforts were rewarded as the slab slid away to reveal a wooden trapdoor beneath, around four feet long by three wide. With the obstruction gone, he easily lifted the creaking panel up to reveal a confined space beneath.
Jessica’s first thought was that this was the entrance to a cellar, in which he was almost certainly going to entomb her. But peering into the darkened space revealed the dimensions to be far too small for this to be labelled a cellar. At around three feet in depth, and no wider or longer than the trap door itself, this claustrophobic space was simply a stone clad hole in the ground for storing… what? Although clearly not designed for the purpose, it was obvious that his intention was to use this as a dungeon for his helpless female captive.
At this point Jessica knew that it was now or never. To hell with any concerns about what he might do if he recaptured her; once she was interred in this shallow pit, she feared she would never again be let out. With his attention focused briefly on getting the door open, she made a dash for the exit into the outer room, before making a beeline for the outside world. Not caring where she was headed, or what she'd do when she got there, once in the open she found herself rushing headlong down towards the rocky shore. Her arms being held awkwardly behind her made running difficult, not to mention hazardous.
On such sloping, uneven terrain, the prospects of falling were obviously high, and if this occurred, she knew full well that she had no chance of stopping her descent, and would be greatly hampered in subsequently getting back onto her feet. But at this precise moment, Jessica didn't care. Falling headlong over a cliff would be preferable just now to being held captive in some dark and damp hellhole. In fact, absolutely anything seemed more appealing at this particular moment.
She must have caught him off guard, for she managed to get further than she had imagined she would, although within seconds of emerging into the grassy landscape, she was aware of his presence behind her; his footsteps and heavy breathing getting louder by the second. Resisting the urge to look around, she staggered down the rough incline, hoping desperately that someone – anyone – would see her and come to her rescue. But of course, the remoteness of the location meant that this was a forlorn hope.
Luckily, when she did lose her footing, she managed to break her fall on a grassy knoll. Unluckily, she hadn't managed to evade her pursuer prior to her downfall. The end result, of course, was that her fleeting dalliance with semi-freedom was over all too soon. With even more force than before, and with a vice-like grip on her arm, he marched the sobbing Jessica back to the ruined cottage. Once back inside, she was led to the gaping chasm left by the open trapdoor. Twisting her arm painfully, Jessica found herself being invited to step down into the hollow; the consequences of non compliance being spelt out to her with a growled threat of unspecified punishment. Pushing her to the ground, her captor lay her face down within the enclosed space, before jumping down to join her; his holdall bag containing the ropes and other restraints in his hand.
Jessica flinched as she felt the rope once more tighten around her legs, but the will to fight back had gone. It was hopeless. Whatever she did, and however hard she tried to fend him off, she was doomed to failure. But with her knees and ankles bound as before, Jessica was about to find out that this was nothing compared to what he had in mind for her now.
At the sight of the handcuffs being removed from the bag, Jessica's terror reached new heights and her temporary lapse into a state of apathy dissipated. She lurched upwards and crashed into his shoulder, desperately trying to knock him out of the way and extricate her trussed up form from the fissure in the ground in which she was about to be entombed.
“HELP ME! HELP MEEEE!!"
She screamed the same muffled words over and over again into the wilderness beyond. He, in turn, calmly pushed her back to her former position.
“You’re not going anywhere. Now lay still and be quiet. There’s no one around to hear you."
The harsh tone of his voice spoke of someone rapidly losing their temper. Not knowing quite whether to risk another futile escape attempt, or do as she was told, Jessica's mind was soon made up for her. Her escape attempt and continued struggles were obviously pushing him closer to the brink of a violent outburst, as he held her down on the cold stone floor and dug his right knee into her back. The cold metal that grasped her wrists and snapped shut with a soft clinking sound, had an air of finality about it; the cuffs supplementing the original wrist bonds and reducing still further what little room for manoeuvre she had left in her arms.
But still he hadn't finished. Another piece of rope was bound around the existing wrist restraints and pulled tight. Then Jessica felt her knees being bent forcefully up behind her, with her feet being pulled upwards over her back. Her hands and feet were now held in close proximity to each other, as the most recent arm bond was pulled taut and attached to the cord around her ankles. When she felt his grip ease and attempted to straighten her legs, she found this impossible; her arms and legs now bound together in the most awkward and uncomfortable hog-tie imaginable.
Finally, just to add insult to injury, he attached the leather collar around her neck, and threaded the attached chain through an until now unnoticed metal ring that protruded from the stone wall on one side of the enclosed space. A large padlock ensured that chain and ring would not part company.
And then, in an instant, he was gone. The trapdoor slammed down upon her, and within seconds a harsh grating noise, as the heavy flagstone was once more positioned over the top, signalled the final step in her incarceration. The sound of retreating footsteps faded and ceased within seconds.
And then there was silence.
The closing of the trapdoor left Jessica in a world of almost pitch blackness. Almost… but not quite, because at the end of her now sealed tomb, close to her head, was a small hole in the wooden ceiling – around one inch in diameter – that let in a modicum of light. Whether leaving this end of the trapdoor uncovered by the stone was intentional or not, Jessica didn’t know, but it was a lifeline that served to keep her from suffocating. It was also her only point of contact with the outside world. With some difficulty, she flopped over onto her side and felt the chain at her neck pull taut. With a ceiling barely three feet high, and the walls of her tomb seemingly closing in on all sides, Jessica felt as if the earth had swallowed her up. Lying motionless in the dark, in one of the few positions available to her, it seemed her world had come to an end.
How long, she wondered, before the alarm was raised that she was missing? And then, how long before the searchers increased their range to encompass the remote island on which she now languished? The answer to the latter, she deduced from the length of the journey in the Range Rover, was probably never.
Her one hope, it seemed to her now, was that another member of her group had seen what had taken place, noted the car's number down, and informed the police. If they found the evil bastard who'd done this to her, she reasoned, then maybe he'd break down under interrogation and pinpoint her place of incarceration. It was a long-shot, but it was the only real piece of optimism she could come up with. Had he left her here to rot? And if not, what did he have in mind when he returned? Was he getting some perverted kick out of imprisoning her? Did it give him a sense of power to know that she was helpless and he could do with her as he pleased? She had no answers to the multitude of questions that ran through her terrified brain.
The day wore on, slowly giving way to a sunset of vivid reds and oranges. But for Jessica, this spectacular phenomenon remained beyond her vision, and the gravity of the situation would have made her appreciation of its inherent beauty impossible at this very stressful time anyway. Hour after hour, she lay in the gloomy interior of her makeshift grave, unable to move and with her screams drowned out by the sound of seagulls and the strengthening breeze that whistled eerily – mockingly? – through the walls of the stone sarcophagus. If only she hadn't come on this stupid Outward Bound course. Why had she allowed Penny and Mike to convince her that this was what she needed? She should never have listened to either of them.
There was, however, something that Jessica now deeply regretted not listening to her boyfriend about. Something that, if she'd gone along with and participated in, might have made her more knowledgeable about ways of getting free from the situation she now found herself in. She and Mike had experimented with many different sex games, but one thing that Jessica had drawn the line at was bondage. On numerous occasions he'd suggested that he'd like to tie her up, bind her to the bed and make love to her, but she'd always refused.
She considered herself fairly broad minded in most respects, and was usually willing to try most things, but for some reason she'd baulked at this suggestion. It was degrading and humiliating, she'd informed him, and also fraught with dangers. He'd tried to talk her round, assuring her that no harm would come to her, and that he'd free her whenever she requested. He even tried to persuade her that she'd probably end up enjoying the sensation of ropes and cords around her, and the ensuing feelings of helplessness. But she was having none of it. She'd made up her mind that this type of thing was not for her, and that was final.
Now though, she wished she'd gone along with his strange little games. Perhaps then, she thought gloomily, she'd have worked out how to escape; become quite an expert at it maybe, and be in a far better position to understand how to twist and contort herself so as to slip her bonds free, or have become adept at the intricacies of untying knots and picking locks. In short, she might have become a first rate escapologist.
But this was all academic now. How she wished she could turn back the clock six months or so to when Mike had first brought the subject up. It was weird actually, when she thought about it in depth, but the damsel-in-distress scenarios that he conjured up and had wanted her to participate in, bore many similar characteristics to her current ordeal. The only difference being that, in his fantasies, he always came to her rescue in the end.
The night was extremely long, or so it seemed to Jessica, although she knew that in this part of the world, during the summer months, the hours of darkness were minimal. By the time that the dim light of dawn began to creep through the tiny aperture into her tomb, Jessica had convinced herself that he was not coming back, and that she was going to die here. Although only having a T-shirt as cover from the waist upwards, Jessica was glad now that she'd put those tights on, as her legs and lower body remained relatively well insulated against the cold; a circumstance which, she assumed, had kept her body temperature at the level necessary to ward off death through hyperthermia.
The daylight, however, failed to raise Jessica's spirits. Although she struggled at irregular intervals over the course of several hours, and howled as loudly as she could every so often, these were only really token gestures and she knew it. By the time that the heat of the sun had penetrated her cell to a point where she felt comfortably warm again, and its rays infiltrated sufficiently for her to sense that it must be around mid morning, Jessica had given up all hope. She had been bound and gagged for what must now be twenty hours or so, and her bonds showed no signs of relinquishing their vice-like grip on her limbs. And the clink of the handcuffs every time she moved, only seemed to mock her feeble efforts to free herself.
After the stillness of the dawn, a slight breeze had risen once again outside, and that, together with the ever present mournful cries of the seabirds, were the only sounds to reach her from the outside world.
Or were they?
Was that the wind making that strange whistling noise, or was it manmade? She strained her ears, desperate to hear the sound again, but for several minutes it was unforthcoming. Just as she'd decided that she was hearing things – a clear case of wishful thinking, in which a noise from the natural world had been transformed by a longed for desire to hear the sound of an approaching human – the whistling came again. Jessica pulled herself up to the best of her ability, her heart beating with renewed hope for the first time since she'd been abandoned. There was no way that the wind could whistle like that. She'd only caught a few notes, but there was no doubt about the fact that someone out there was whistling a tune. There it was again, only this time it was louder, indicating that whoever was out there was getting nearer.
Jessica screamed and screamed, her whole frame shaking with the effort. Then, after a few seconds, she fell silent again, awaiting the sound of footsteps outside. With utter joy, she heard just that; the dull thud of feet on stone. Suddenly the footsteps stopped, no more than a few feet from where she lay. Jessica screamed again, to make absolutely sure that whoever was out there could have no doubts as to her whereabouts. Within seconds her prayers seemed to have been answered, as the sound of the slab above her head being dragged away reached her ears, followed by the wooden trapdoor slowly creaking open on its hinges. Jessica squinted upwards from her position on the floor, as the silhouette of a man loomed over her. Then her heart sank. It was him – the bastard who'd kidnapped her. Had he come back to finish her off?
As he crouched over her, Jessica slithered backwards into the darkest corner of her cell. Unless he was about to set her free, she didn't want him to touch her. But she was powerless to take evasive action, as his hand was thrust between her thighs and he began to stroke her gently. Jessica screamed and pleaded with him to stop. She knew what he was after, and she knew that once he'd got it, she would be either murdered or left to rot. She bucked and jerked her trussed up frame in every conceivable direction, but to no avail. Within seconds he was right beside her, his right hand wandering beneath her shirt.
"Don't worry Jess, you're safe. Relax and enjoy yourself."
Hearing her name gave Jessica such a shock that she momentarily forgot her hysteria; her mind working overtime. How did he know her name? He must have been from going through the things in her rucksack, although she couldn't remember carrying anything that would reveal her identity. And anyway, he'd used the abbreviated version of her name, shortened to Jess, and the only person who ever did that was Mike. Intrigued, although still greatly frightened, she turned towards him and scrutinised his facial features.
"Who are you?"
Even through the gag, she was sure he'd understand that.
"You mean you don't recognise me? The only man in your life… or so you always tell me.”
The accent had changed since yesterday, but for several seconds Jessica just couldn't get to grips with what was happening here. How could Mike's voice suddenly manifest itself to her? She stared up at her captor, who had now stopped molesting her and was rubbing his face. In fact, as Jessica watched in a state of total disbelief, he began to pull his face apart.
"Really had you fooled didn't I, what with the make-up and the accent?"
It was just too much for Jessica's brain to take in, as she watched the face of her abductor dissolve and her lover materialise before her.
"You see Jess, I knew that you wouldn't agree to me tying you up willingly, although I was certain that once I had you at my mercy, you'd enjoy it. Now, let me untie your legs and I'll show you how much fun this can be."
Jessica wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. She was so relieved to see Mike again – so glad that her ordeal had been nothing but an elaborate hoax – that she didn't know how she felt at that moment. She hated him and loved him all at the same time. With the hog-tie rope removed, her ankles and knees unbound, and the chain detached from the wall, Mike tenderly laid her down and undressed her. Still gagged, and with her arms still roped and handcuffed behind her, she spent the next hour or more as his prisoner of love. Finally, he removed her gag and gave her a drink of water, followed by some food he'd brought in his rucksack. As he fed her, he explained how he'd set up the whole operation and answered Jessica's questions, which gushed out in an endless stream.
He’d seen pictures of these sort of old ruined cottages, that seemed to be scattered all across the western seaboard of Scotland, and had decided that, should he be able to locate one in a remote enough area, he'd turn it into a prison-cell- cum- holiday-home, especially for her initiation into the world of bondage. Once such a place had been located, with the aid of an Ordnance Survey map and the help of a Scottish friend, he'd been ready for action. His sister Penny was in on it, and had made sure that Jessica was heading in his direction; which, he now informed her, was completely the opposite direction from the rest of her party.
It was Penny also, who had helped with the disguise, which Jessica had to admit, had fooled her completely. The combination of a latex skin mask, make up and wig had been prepared immaculately, with every attention to detail, and she had to admit that it was very realistic; he really had looked and sounded like a middle-aged Scottish gamekeeper. The gun, he told her, was only a replica and therefore harmless. The Range Rover had been hired, as had the boat. With everything worked out in precise detail, he had been ready to bring his fantasy kidnapping scenario to fruition.
They lay together for some time, discussing every aspect of his plan, and the effect it had had on Jessica. All this time he idly played with the ball gag, throwing it in the air and catching it, and wrapping the cord round his fingers. After a while Jessica decided that she'd now had enough of the game. Okay, she had to now admit that she had enjoyed the experience once she knew she was safe, although the preceding hours would remain etched in her brain for the rest of her life as a horrific nightmare.
“Yeah, sorry about that. But I thought that you needed to spend a substantial amount of time in bondage, if you were really going to appreciate how it feels. And besides that, I figured that the longer you were all tied up and alone, the more pleased you’d be to see me. Am I forgiven?”
Jessica replied that he was. Everything was fine with her now. Or at least it would be once he released the handcuffs and untied her arms.
"So, are you going to let me go now and take me back to civilisation?"
He looked into her face, a slightly bemused grin forming at the corners of his mouth.
"Well, it’s like this…"
He turned towards her and, before she had time to protest, the ball was crammed back into her surprised mouth and he was securing the straps at the back of her head.
"…the fact is that we've both got the whole week off work, and I know how much you dislike the idea of mountaineering and canoeing, so, basically, I've decided to keep you here for a few more days. Don't worry, I'm not going to tie your ankles to your wrists again, and I'll leave you a blanket, but I'm afraid that your sentence here has only really just begun. By the time you leave here, you'll be so used to being bound and gagged, that it will seem like the most natural thing in the world and you'll be begging me to tie you up every night."
He began to pull her tights and leggings back into place, before preparing to tie her legs again. Jessica was too stunned to react or resist. She simply stared at him, trying to fully take in the significance of this latest twist in the tale.
"Don't worry though…" He reassured her, kissing her on the cheek before getting up to leave, having first bound her ankles and knees as tightly as before, and once more secured the neck chain to the wall.
“… I’ll come to visit you every day…… weather permitting of course.”
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Outward Bound · Part 2 (2/2)
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