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The Good Ol' Days

One Part Only

The Good Ol' Days

Tania Marsters was very pleased. It was not often that a bondage model - even
one as popular as herself - was offered a thousand for one day's work, and she'd
just been offered three. With that kind of money, she thought excitedly, she'd
be able to finish paying off her credit card debt.

Before accumulating a new one all over again.

The buxom blonde giggled - but the sound was muffled by the gag she was wearing.
If indeed the flimsy strip of white cloth that covered her face from nose to
chin could be called a gag. Tania knew that if she so much as sneezed, the strip
would fall away and leave her able to giggle, talk, or call out to any would-be
rescuer. Not that one was needed. After all, the thick nylon rope "binding" her
wrists behind her back, and her legs at her ankles and knees, was tied so
loosely that she could have shrugged free from its

grasp within moments.

But then, the gag and ropes did not need to be tied tightly. As long as the
bondage looked "reasonably convincing" (as one photographer had once told her),
the pics would sell. And that was all that mattered. Why should she, as a paid
professional, have to go through any unnecessary discomfort? As it was, she was
sitting completely naked in a drafty old warehouse on top of a few wooden
crates. She could get splinters in her ass, for shit's sake! That ought to be
enough discomfort for anyone.

Thankfully, Bill - the photographer who'd hired her for the day - seemed to
share her perspective on the matter. Ever since he'd eagerly rushed to meet her
as she'd pulled up in the parking lot outside the abandoned warehouse, Bill had
been the perfect gentleman. Firstly, he'd made sure that she had a

ready supply of fruit and a wide range of drinks at her disposal; and on top of
that, he'd constantly checked that the knots binding her weren't too tight as
he'd tied her into position after position. But best of all, Bill had paid Tania
up front - something that the bondage model had learnt never to expect.

She guessed he was kind of attractive in a way. Tall and thin, with sandy
coloured hair and a smattering of freckles across his hawk-nose. Not the kind of
guy she'd go for, of course (a model had to have STANDARDS), but attractive
enough. She'd caught him gaping at her own body a few times, in between shots.
But she was more than used to that. If he wanted a little perve at her bronzed
skin, long legs, thin waist, and 34D cup breasts (the boob job had been a
necessity if she wanted to keep getting work), that was fine with her. It wasn't
like he was ever going to get to play with the real thing, so why shouldn't he
be allowed to masturbate to images of her bound and gagged beneath him??

"And one more," Bill said. In response, Tania jutted out her breasts that little
bit further and tried to look petulant through the gag. "There!" Smiling, Bill
set the camera down on a crate beside him and stepped quickly over to Tania's
side. He reached up to undo the knot of her gag, but she was already in the
process of allowing it to slip off her mouth.

"Oh," he said, "that easy, huh?"

"Thankfully! There's no way I could have been gagged properly for that long.
That set must have taken a whole 45 minutes!"

Bill's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure I got the
best pictures possible. Besides," he said with a grin, "I'm betting you could
last properly bound and gagged a whole lot longer than you think."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing much. It's just in my experience, women can generally put up with a
whole lot more than they think can. If they have to."

Tania frowned, noticing for the first time that Bill was no longer being
over-the-top Mr Nice Guy. For starters, he hadn't even gone to untie her yet;
and for remainders, this whole conversation was getting decidedly weird. Tania
decided there and then that top bondage models shouldn't have to put

up with this kind of shit. Maybe she should see about organising some kind of
union in the near future. As long as she didn't have to do any actual work, she
couldn't see the harm in it.

"What's the matter? You don't agree with me?"

Tania squirmed a little in her bonds. The rope cinching her wrists together was
actually tighter than she'd first expected. "Bill, I think you should untie me
now."

A smirk creased the photographer's lips. "No, c'mon, I want to know. Don't you
think that women can put up with more discomfort than they believe if they're
actually put to the test?"

Genuine alarm began to gnaw at Tania's stomach. She twisted her wrists savagely,
trying to pull herself free, but her arms were held tight behind her back. Bill
ignored her now blatant struggling, evidently still waiting for an answer.

"I'm not sure, okay Bill?" Tania blurted out desperately. "Please untie me now."

"You're not sure? Well, maybe you should ask her." Bill pointed a finger up at
the ceiling two floors above Tania's head. Almost on impulse, the bondage model
craned her head back . . . and gasped loudly.

A completely naked woman hung suspended from the ceiling - her arms and legs
spread wide and attached by taught rope to the roof's support girders. She was
face down, so Tania could see that the woman's dangling breasts were blown up
like mini-balloons because of the cord wrapped tightly around the base of each.
She wasn't sure, but it appeared that more of the cord had been tied around the
woman's stomach and pulled savagely tight between her legs. That cord, more than
anything may have accounted for the fact that the woman seemed to be doing
little more than breathing - as if movement was simply too painful. It was
difficult to tell though, because the woman's expression was obscured by the
white bandage that had been wrapped around her face from the middle of her
forehead to the tip of her chin.

Tania opened her mouth to utter a piercing shriek, but was cut off as one of
Bill's hands clamped down on her mouth, and the other wrapped around her
stomach, drawing her back against him.

"She's been up there for almost 6 hours now." Bill rasped into Tania's ear as
she struggled against his grip. "What I want to see is if you can do any
better."

*****

It took Bill an hour to secure Tania into a position alongside her equally
famous counterpart, Julie Symmons, but it was obvious by the third photo of the
pair that it had been worth every second.

The camera did not lie and through his lens, the women looked glorious as they
suffered.

Of course, Julie's suffering had to be inferred from the cues that her painfully
contorted body was soundlessly emitting. The blindfold and gag he'd forced upon
her made sure of that. Her mouth he'd packed full of her own sullied underwear
and an additional grime-encrusted rag that he'd only just
managed to cram behind her teeth. Julie hadn't been able to press her lips
together with that much material in her oral cavity, so Bill had opted to cleave
her mouth with multiple windings of dirty grey rope rather than taping it shut.
The way her eyes had widened as he'd knotted the rope at the apex of her neck
had given Bill an almost surreal thrill. In fact, he'd almost decided to refrain
from a blindfold, just so he could see that expression every time he managed to
chance a glance upward.

Common sense, however, had overruled that idea. If Julie knew he was luring
another model into the warehouse, there was no telling what could happen.
Consequently, he'd proceeded to wrap a thick white bandage over her terrified
eyes but not before shutting down another of her senses with a set of wax ear
plugs. Her quiet whimpering had increased in volume at that stage, so Bill had
been forced to wind another bandage in between and then over her pale lips to
ensure she was quiet enough.

Finally satisfied, Bill had slowly walked Julie to the second floor catwalk of
the warehouse and secured her to the iron railing with cotton rope above and
below her breasts. He'd then taken his time to bind Julie's C-cup breasts as
stringently as possible by wrapping a thin cord of about 8 feet in length around
the base of each. Julie had struggled and groaned in protest as her breasts had
been moulded into a pair of angry red balloons. Chuckling, Bill had taken a much
longer length of the same cord and
wrapped it around Julie's stomach half a dozen times. He'd pulled it tight
enough to make the model suck in her already flat stomach, and then yanked it up
between her legs so that the coarse strand disappeared into her crotch. Tying it
off, Bill had been unable to resist twanging the cord and watching Julie sob
into her gag as the cord scraped against her clitoris painfully.

That done, it was a simple matter of preparing the suspension ropes above the
landing and then tying Julie into them one limb at a time. She'd struggled, of
course - especially during the brief period where she'd had one arm free - but
Bill had dealt with that challenge by simply slapping her engorged breasts
whenever she'd gotten a little too active.

In the end, he'd had Julie secured a full twenty minutes before Tania had
arrived at the warehouse. And the raven haired beauty had remained tied in
exactly the same position the entire time that he'd been snapping shots of an
unsuspecting Tania Marsters.

Now, some eight and a half hours after passing the point of no return, Bill had
all but succeeded in his plan. He had two of the most gorgeous models ever to
grace the fetish scene, bound, gagged and subject to his every whim.

Bill had been thinking about doing this for almost two years and planning it
formally for three months. This wasn't some spontaneous "grab-a-woman" off the
street kidnapping. Oh no. This was something much more important.

This was art.

Bill was a big fan of the late 70s style of bondage. A big, big fan. In fact, he
was probably it's greatest fan. His collection of bondage related paraphernalia
from that era had to be the biggest in the world. He had
bought every single video, magazine and prop he could lay his hands on since he
was old enough to start collecting - even if that was 12 years after the "golden
era" had ended. Since that time, he'd waited patiently, hoping against hope that
there would be shift from the current "love bondage"

emphasis back to the "damsels-in-distress" paradigm that he enjoyed so much. The
thrill for Bill was all in the fact that the model (as well as the character she
was portraying) was actually in some kind of physical discomfort while she was
being photographed or filmed. As far as he was concerned, the whole cuffs around
the wrists and bit of cloth between the lips was bullshit. A model should EARN
her money and in the process truly emote her situation from within the confines
of a jaw stretching gag and the cruellest of tight ropes.

Unfortunately, his patience had yielded him nothing. Instead, he found his
frustration growing as year after year of disappointment passed by. And then one
day - after yet another fruitless day combing the city's adult book stores -
Bill had snapped. If no-one else would accommodate his desires, then he would do
it himself. Even if it meant kidnapping the best fetish models in the world and
pushing them to their limits . . .

Bill grinned savagely as he snapped yet another photo of Tania's pain contorted
face.

He was living his ultimate fantasy.

And it was better than he'd ever imagined.

*****

Tania was sure that at any moment she was going to wake up from this, her worst
nightmare.

But she gradually realised, with no small degree of horror, that her current
predicament was all too real - and that there was no foreseeable escape.

The beautiful model hung in a suspended hogtie, ten feet above the meshed floor
of the iron catwalk. Her entire weight was being supported by three ropes: one
that was connected to the thin cord binding her ankles together, a second
attached to the same type of cord binding her wrists, and a third that encircled
her chest at breast level. This latter rope dug into tender mounds painfully,
while the other two drew her arms and legs so far back that the heels of her
ankles actually touched the sides of her palms. In
addition, her elbows were crushed together by more of the thin cord that Bill
had taken great delight in applying to her body. He had basically looped the
cord around her upper arms and proceeded to pull them together inch by agonising
inch. Tania would have screamed in pain if it hadn't have been for the fact that
her mouth had been stuffed with own her underwear and a hard rubber ball that
had been buckled excruciatingly tight underneath her hair. Even now, it was the
elbow bondage as much as the suspension that was causing her the most grief. Her
elbows were just not made to be tied together . . . but Bill, the sadistic
bastard, had somehow managed to make it happen.

At least he'd left her crotch alone - Tania had that to be thankful for. She
only had to look over at the other woman hanging to her left to see the
additional torment she must have been experiencing because of that one little
wire.

Tania risked a glance down, and fighting aside the bought of vertigo that
threatened to overwhelm her pain, saw Bill setting his camera aside.

"Okay ladies, it's time to move onto new and varied things."

Both Tania and the other woman shifted subtly and moaned muffled pleas into
their stringent gags.

"No, don't get too excited, Tania. You've got 4 hours and 47 minutes remaining
up there to best Julie's record."

WHAT?!? Tania wanted to scream the word, but instead found herself choking on
her panties and trying to deal with the sudden flare in her pain from her
straining shoulders. Dimly, through her pained gasps and mounting panic, Tania
heard Bill speak again.

"As for you Julie, I think it's time we got better acquainted."

*****

Having untied Julie from her four-limbed suspension and lowered her to the floor
of the catwalk, Bill quickly gathered the model's quaking arms and pulled them
behind her back. The last thing he wanted was the bitch taking a lucky shot at
him while he knelt above her. It soon became evident, however, that he had
little to worry about as Julie's arms were like jelly between his fingertips.
Yet to even remotely recover from her arduous ordeal, the model could only
gurgle ineffectually into the many layers of her gag as Bill once again bound
her wrists and elbows, and then lashed her feet together, with
more of the thin cutting cord. Ignoring her breast and crotch cords - but
quietly pleased with the deep maroon colour of her tits and the swollen nature
of her lower lips - Bill hoisted Julie over his right shoulder and negotiated
the steps down to the warehouse floor.

Without pause, the photographer walked through a doorway in the western
warehouse wall and into a dank hallway. Julie whimpered quietly and squirmed a
little against his shoulder, causing Bill to slap her exposed ass in warning.

Taking a turn, the two entered into a large, sickly-yellow coloured bathroom.
Dominated by two columns of ten cubicles that backed onto each other, the
bathroom still had more than enough room left over for a wide expanse of tiled
floor that surrounded the stalls like a moat does a castle. The outer walls of
the room each sported one long mirror, which had been mounted above an almost
countless array of hand washbasins. What light there was filtered in through
half a dozen grime encrusted windows set high on the far wall.

This room was the main reason Bill had selected the warehouse he was standing in
as the site to carry out his plan. It was perfect for his proposed finale to the
day's epic photo shoot. He could already imagine the models muffled sobs as they
shuffled across the tiled floor, attempting to best each other and their own
suffering for the chance to . . .

No, he was getting ahead of himself. There would be time to immerse himself in
the fantasy later, after he was well away from this place, and clear of any
chance of being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Bill laid Julie down on the floor and, ignoring her muffled groans, walked over
to the closet cubicle. Inside, he picked up a black camera tripod and a dark
blue sports bag that made a quiet clinking sound as he stood back up. Retracing
his steps, Bill placed his equipment to the side and bent down

over the helpless model. He ran a fingertip around the sides of her miscoloured
breasts and then darted his head forward to bite and suck at her exposed
nipples. For a moment, Julie did nothing. But then, as if a
power switch had been flicked to on, she began to scream into the cloth filling
her mouth and squirm against the cords binding her. Grinning, Bill pulled back
from his assault and watched the beautiful woman quake beneath him.

His original intent hadn't been to rape either of the women. But as the day had
progressed, he'd come to realise that he'd been kidding himself. All that
suffering just an arm's length away - and he'd been responsible for it. He'd
never felt such a powerful aphrodisiac in his entire life. In fact, he was proud
of the fact that he'd made it this far without fucking either of the beautiful
bitches. But the time for self-control was now over. He had about four and a
half hours to busy himself with Julie - and he wanted to have it all
photographed on camera . . .

Actual, real live photos of Julie Symmons and Tania Marsters being raped. Bill
could not realistically picture the kind of money people would be willing to
part with to see those images. Most definitely enough to get him out of the
country and set up on some island paradise before an anonymous call was
made to the cops, telling them where to find the kidnapped models.

Bill slowly unwound the upper bandage from about Julie's face, noting with
satisfaction that it was wet with her tears. He watched as her hazel eyes
blinked madly with the first light they had been subjected to in almost eight
hours, and then focused their gaze on his face. Wanting her to be able to
clearly hear his next words, Bill once again leant forward to prise the wax plug
from each of her ears.

"Okay Julie, it's time for your next position. It's not as strenuous, but if you
fight me, I'll make it as hard for you as I can. Do you understand me?"

There was a slight pause before the bondage model gave a mute nod.

"Good. Now let's get you up and over to the wall there."

Bill quickly untied Julie's legs and after rubbing the circulation back into her
lower limbs, helped her to a standing position. She trembled in his grasp, but
made no move to escape.

"You're doing very well, Julie. Keep co-operating and everything will be fine."

He spent the next five minutes retying Julie into his pre-planned position.
First, he led her over to the closest wall so that she stood facing her bound
and gagged reflection. Upon seeing herself, the bondage model began to again sob
quietly. Ignoring her reaction, Bill reached into the sports bag and pulled out
a four foot length of wood that was in fact the handle from an old broom. This
was followed by two six foot lengths of rope and one twenty foot length that had
been neatly wound up and tied into a neat rope ball. He spread Julie's legs wide
and then used the two smaller lengths of rope to lash her ankles to the ends of
the broom handle. A pair of scissors were next out of the bag and used to cut
through the twine binding his victim's elbows and running through her crotch.
Her relief was obvious, but short lived as Bill took the longer length of rope
and attached it to the cord binding her wrists. He threw the other end through
an overhanging roof support and pulled the slack through until Julie's arms were
slowly being raised. The
model tried to voice her distress about what was occurring, but was actually
helpless to do anything other than bend forward as Bill continued to pull on the
rope. Finally, when her entire weight was resting on the tips of her toes and
her bound breasts were pointing straight down at the floor, Bill ceased tugging
on the rope and tied it off to the metal frame of the closest cubicle. He turned
back to face the bound model - sarcastically comforting words forming on his
lips . . . but stopped cold at the sight before him.

Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine so perfect an image. A beautiful
woman bound in a stringent strappado, her calves trembling as they tried to
support her entire weight, her breasts almost purple from the cords wrapped
their base, her mouth gagged to virtual silence. Bill knew that he could die now
and be a content man . . .

. . . If only he could sample this perfection "first-hand".

Hurriedly, Bill removed another item - his automatic camera - from the sports
bag and attached it to the tripod. He set camera and its mount up about ten feet
away from Julie along the same wall that she was bound, and framed the shot so
that nothing higher than his chest would be caught on
camera. As he set the timer to shoot off a shot every twenty seconds, Bill
glanced up to see Julie looking over at him - an expression of pure torment on
her face.

"That's it," he cried. "Hold that pose." He snapped off a shot, and then another
before the model turned away. "Fuck that was perfect!"

He finished his adjustments to the camera, but before pressing the "Operate"
button, paused to unbutton and unzip his jeans. His breathing was fast and
shallow. "Okay Julie, let's see if you taste as good as you look."

The tormented model whimpered and shook her head in a wide-eyed protest.

Bill thumbed the final "Record" button on the camera and started toward her,
fully aware that no moment in his life would ever again match this . . .

*****

High up above the warehouse floor, Tania hung in pure agony. Such was the pain
from her shoulders, hips, elbows and breasts that she could barely think about
anything else.

With the one exception of time.

Tania had heard the expression "time is relative" before, but had never given it
more than a passing thought. Now she was sure she understood the phrase in a
very personal way that few could claim to have experienced.

It felt like she had been tied in this position for a week. Every minute that
crawled by felt like an hour. And yet, she suspected that she'd been suffering
for less than ninety minutes. One thing that she WAS sure of, however, was that
she was not going to make it to the six hour record set by Julie. No way in
hell. Her body would give out way before then, and if by some miracle it didn't,
she suspected she'd go insane from the constant mind-numbing pain.

Tania had already sworn that Bill the Photographer (Jesus, she hadn't even known
his last name before accepting the job and his money) would pay for what he was
doing. If it was the very last thing she did, she would make sure of that. No
matter what. In fact, before the pain had become too much for her, she'd come up
with a few interesting ways to suspend a man by his shaven balls . . .

A scream unlike any she'd ever heard - be it in real life or on the movies -
echoed throughout the warehouse like a clap of thunder. It was a scream of
absolute pain, horror and humiliation all rolled into one, and - even  in her
current position - it sent a shiver down Tania Marsters spine.

Until that moment she would have sworn she was the in the worst position
imaginable. But now she knew differently. If that scream was anything to go by,
whatever Bill was doing to the woman he'd called "Julie" was ten times worse
than what she was enduing here.

She listened in gagged anticipation for any replying sound or follow-up scream,
but none was immediately forthcoming. So, with a newfound determination and
clarity of mind, Tania's long ago numb fingers set about fumbling with the knots
holding her captive.

There were now two things that she was sure of. The first was still that she
wasn't going to last six hours tied like this; and the second was that she was
going to escape before Bill decided to do to her what he was currently doing to
Julie.

******

To begin with, the escape attempt had only added to Tania's suffering.

She'd pulled, stretched, strained, grunted, groaned, wailed, shook and perspired
all to no avail. In fact, the only thing she had achieved was to rub her wrists
so raw against the cord binding them that they'd begun to bleed.

At first, Tania hadn't even known what the warm, wet patch pooling in the small
of her back had been. And then she had tugged for the hundred thousandth time on
the cord binding her wrists and a stab of fresh agony had briefly replaced the
numbing pain emanating from her upper (and, for that matter, lower) limbs.
Biting down hard on her combination ball-and-panty gag, Tania had ridden the
wave of agony in enforced silence before once more slumping in her bonds.

She'd decided right then that it was hopeless - absolutely, positively, fucking
hopeless. She was never getting to get loose and that meant she was probably
going to end up buried in a shallow grave that she'd been forced to dig for
hersel-

NO

Tania still wasn't sure where that inner voice had come from. She'd certainly
never heard it before. It was almost as if someone else had taken control of her
thoughts and was commanding her to act - but in the process, had left no room
for her usual selfish whinings. So she'd gone back to work on her bonds, totally
ignoring the constant needles of pain from her savaged wrists, choosing instead
to focus on her eventual escape and all that it could entail.

Unfortunately now, almost an hour later, Tania was no closer to escaping than
she'd been upon first hearing that commanding voice. At least, that was the
thought racing through her mind, as she yet again pulled hard against the cords
about her wrists.

And felt them give a fraction of an inch.

"Mmmgghhff!"

Unable to quell a muffled squeal of surprise, Tania hurriedly went to work on
the bindings. She tugged and twisted her wrists, feeling the cord slip a little
further with each painful movement.

It was the blood, she realised. The blood from her own torn wrists was acting as
a lubricant and was allowing her to -

Without warning, Tania's right hand suddenly popped free of the cord binding.
She was halfway through thinking "Thank God" when her left wrist slipped free
and almost instantaneously her bound feet dropped away behind her. The rope
around her chest constricted suddenly for just a moment, and then that too was
evidently giving away because there was nothing further impeding her fall, and
she was plummeting the ten feet toward the iron catwalk . . .

*****

Bill paused in his efforts to silence Julie's already muffled screaming.

Had he heard something? He couldn't be sure, but it had sounded like a crate
falling over. For a second he considered investigating, but then Julie screamed
again and almost squirmed out of his grasp, causing Bill to re-focus his
attention on her. Tightening his grip on the model's hair, he pulled her head
back sharply and again attempted to stuff the dirty rag he held into her mouth.
She gritted her teeth against the intrusion, obviously concerned by the fact
that he'd already managed to stuff one rag into her oral cavity and had plans
for a second. Bill smiled, quietly impressed that the girl he'd just raped for
near on three hours was still showing some spirit. But he couldn't have another
repeat of the scream she'd uttered when he'd ungagged her earlier. He'd wanted
images of her terror-stricken features for all to see, and that had meant
freeing her mouth. Unfortunately, Julie's scream had shaken even him, and he'd
had to re-gag her in a fairly makeshift manner while he continued to fuck her
from behind.

But now he wanted her silenced much more effectively. In fact, he wanted her
silenced just as effectively as he'd bound her. Using only the cruel cord that
had already serviced him so well, Bill had re-tied Julie's elbows so that they
were locked together without an inch of room between them. Then he had untied
her wrists and pulled them forward until they were pressed against her waist.
He'd pinned her hands in place by wrapping more of the cord around her stomach
and cinching them tightly. That cord had then been used as an anchor for another
crotch-cord that he'd tied tightly enough to ensure that every breath Julie took
was a short exercise in suffering. Finally, he'd crossed and bound her ankles,
making sure that the cord was cinched tightly enough to cut into her skin should
she try to escape.

Tiring of the game he was playing, Bill pulled Julie upward by her hair, and as
she opened her mouth to utter an involuntary scream, stuffed the second rag
behind her teeth. Swiftly, he gathered up a roll of grey duct tape and wrapped
it about the model's head before she could tongue either of the rags out of her
mouth. He kept on wrapping until he'd done three complete turns of her head, not
caring how much of her once lustrous hair he caught in the process.

Finally satisfied with his efforts, Bill threw down the remaining tape and sat
back. He watched as Julie stole a fearful glance at the hundreds of tacks he's
tossed across the bathroom floor moments before binding her. All together they
covered an expanse of about 40 feet between where they now crouched beside the
first cubicle and the far wall.

"You're looking at the day's finale." Bill said quietly. "A race between you and
Tania out there."

The bondage model's eyes widened as she turned to stare at Bill. "Mmmggff!"

"Don't worry about it just yet, Julie." Bill glanced at his watch. "We don't get
to that stage for another couple of hours yet. Before then, I have to choke cord
you to the cubicle here, and then rape Tania just like I fucked you." He paused
to consider his words. "Well, maybe not JUST like you. The camera does love
variation, after all."

Julie shook her head violently and tried to say something through her the reams
of tape over her mouth. He was feeling a little spent and wanted to save his
last four rolls of film for Tania's rape and the final race, so he decided to
furnish his victim with a little more detail on the latter.

"Calm down there and let me explain." Bill stood up and walked over to stand
amongst the thumbnail tacks. "You and Tania will start from where you are now.
You'll both be tied just like you, to make the race fair. The idea is to get to
this far wall," Bill walked over to stand at the end of the tack field,"before
the other person does. How you do that, is up to each of you. Do you try and
knee-walk your way through the tacks, or do you slide forward on your stomach? I
suspect the former will be much faster, but also much more painful - so it's a
tough decision. Especially when you consider what happens to the loser."

This time Bill paused both for dramatic effect and to reach for the ten inch
hunting knife sitting in it's sheathed belt attachment behind his back.

"She gets gutted with this."

He watched with satisfaction as Julie stiffened in shock. He wasn't really going
to kill the loser - at least he didn't THINK he was going to - but he did want
both of the women properly motivated when it came time to race.

"And the winner? She gets found by the police, bound and gagged in the most
humiliating position possible. But at least she gets to live." Bill laughed
quietly. "Quite an incentive, wouldn't you say?"

Julie "Mmfgghhmm"ed a tearful response which only made him laugh more loudly.
"Or maybe you wouldn't say."

Ignoring her further muted protests, Bill walked back to stand over his first
victim. "For now though, the most pertinent issue revolves around what I'm going
to do with you to pass the time." he bent down and the knife darted through the
air to touch against Julie's jugular. In response, the model froze and closed
her eyes.

Bill felt himself growing hard - which was something of a surprise given his
earlier exploits. He debated fucking her again, but this time without having to
worry about pleasing the camera. Sliding the knife down Julie's upper chest, he
paused with the point over her right nipple. She moaned softly, causing
his mounting erection to stiffen further.

On yes, there was no way he was done with this bitch just yet.

"Don't fret, Julie. I'm not going to cut you." He sheathed the knife and pushed
her down on the cold tile floor. She opened her eyes and stared up at him
fearfully. "But I am going to fuck you. Again."

Rather than reacting with predictable head shakes and muted protests, Julie's
gaze flicked up and past Bill to stare at something beyond his left shoulder. He
was considering turning to see what had caught her attention when something
cold, hard and very sharp tore through his spinal cord and exploded out of his
stomach in a spray of dark, dark red.

Bill grabbed at the cold, hard and sharp something, realised it was actually the
pointed end of a tyre iron, and then realised no more.

*****

Tania could hardly draw breath as Bill pitched slowly to the side. She expected
him to rear up at her at any second. She was almost sure of it, in fact. But
instead he lay completely still as a pool of dark red blood expanded slowly
around him.

The bound woman, whom Tania now recognised without the blindfold as Julie
Symmons, scuttled away from Bill's motionless form as fast as her bonds would
allow her. She moaned a gagged plea in Tania's direction, evidently desperate to
be free of the horrible cords. Tania could understand that desire all too well.

She'd landed on the iron catwalk hard enough to knock the wind out of herself,
but not to do any permanent damage. Nevertheless, all she'd wanted to do was lay
on the hard mesh and recover for about ten hours before even attempting to move.
That inner voice, however, had had other ideas.

GET UP

HELP HER

And then, most surprisingly of all:

KILL HIM

Although Tania doubted her ability to actually kill another person, there seemed
little arguing with the voice. So slowly, she'd begun the ten minute process of
untying herself. Her legs first, which she'd only been able to reach through
much straining - thanks to the painfully tight cord that still held her

elbows together. But she wasn't about to start picking hairs. If Bill hadn't
rigged her suspension up in such a way that all the ropes were connected to one
another, she'd still be hanging up there, hands free or not.

The ball gag she'd been unable to reach, and she hadn't wanted to risk climbing
down the ladder to the warehouse floor with her arms all but held behind her.
Instead, she'd found a rough edge of the iron hand-railing and rubbed the thin
cord against it in an up-and-down fashion. The cord had snapped surprisingly
fast, and Tania had finally been able to pull the hated gags from her distended
mouth. Being able to swallow for the first time in many hours had been like a
gift from heaven - even if every muscle in her

body ached like she'd been beaten with a sledge hammer.

Climbing tentatively down the ladder, Tania had almost immediately spied the
tyre iron leaning beside the exit door. For just a second as she'd limped over
to retrieve it, she'd considered limping right through the door and on to seek
help. But the thought of the other woman in such distress had stopped her.

She'd been doubly glad of her decision a minute or so later when she'd paused by
the doorway to the bathroom and listened to Bill's plans for Julie and herself.
Cold dread had settled in the pit of her stomach. It was abundantly clear that
the man was completely insane.

She'd snuck up behind him, intending to knock him out (despite what she'd been
told) with one hard blow across the back of the head. But at the last instant,
the voice had whispered to her again, and this time it's command to kill had
been very compelling.

So compelling that she'd changed her grip on the tyre iron and thrust it
straight at Bill's back as hard as she could.

The voice had simply said:

HE'LL KEEP COMING BACK FOR YOU

As Tania finished peeling the tape off Julie's mouth and helped the other
bondage model prise the oily rags from her mouth, she realised that she held no
guilt over killing another human being.

"Thank you," croaked Julie. "Oh God, thank you."

But maybe that was because she hadn't killed another human.

To Tania, Bill was equal parts monster.

*****

The photos and their copyright sold for more money than she'd ever imagined
possible.

Even after splitting the profits with Julie right down the middle, Tania still
had enough money to start her own bondage studio. There was a market out there
that remained to be cornered, and she knew that she now had a better idea of
what to produce than else anyone else in the business.

She wanted to call her new studio "Suffer TM". And she wanted Julie to be a
partner in the business. That way she could do the majority of the early
photography, while Tania herself did the modelling. With time, they could switch
and perhaps even hire other girls to create multiple distress storylines.

And, of course, all the shoots would have the common theme of real models
suffering through position after position of unbearable bondage.

Not that Tania expected Julie to sign on without some drawn-out "convincing".

After all, the other model hadn't been lucky enough to find her own true voice
during the ordeal they had suffered through together. The voice that was very
clear when it came to the advantages of torturous bondage.

Tania was going to help her new friend find that voice.

Even if it took some extensive "convincing".



Review This Story || Author: Doush
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