The Abduction of Monica 21: Escape

by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)

I could barely raise my head from the dirt floor as the garage door banged closed and was followed by the sound of rusty bolts being pushed home at top and bottom.  The single bare bulb lit the slender immobile figure of Sofiya as she strained to stay almost on tip toes to keep the barest of slack in the noose tight around her neck.  If she lost her balance or even relaxed her legs she would slowly strangle herself.

I was at last able to address the terrible vice-like grips on my nipples, and knew from many experiences that you always took them off before you took out the gag.  I gasped and groaned as a fierce pain shot through my right nipple even though I eased the clamp open very gradually.  When the other clamp had been detached I put my handcuffed hands behind my head to undo the strap holding the ball gag in my mouth.  I eased it out with huge relief, working my aching jaw and fretting at the awful restraints that Sofiya – who was totally unfamiliar with bondage endurance skills - had been forced to suffer. 

“It’s all right, Sofie – we’re going to get out of this,” I said, my voice hoarse after being silenced for so many hours.  Just how we were going to get out I didn’t know, but I could not watch this gorgeous, sensitive woman slowly die before my eyes.  Suddenly the guilt I felt at what she had gone through while in my care became something more than that, though I can’t explain how in the blink of an eye I saw Sofiya Volkonskaya in a different light.  There was not the slightest doubt in my mind that I would do anything in my power to save her.

Sofiya barely made an acknowledgement to my words, instead staring into space between half-closed eyelids.  I could hear her husky breathing as she struggled with the rope about her throat.  Could she manage to seek refuge in sub-space?  With her other psychic abilities it would not have surprised me.

I looked around at the structure and how I was secured.  The garage was about three and a half metres wide, but my collar was chained to the wall by only a metre of chain.  There was no way I could reach Sofiya and little around to assist me. 

Think, dammit! I urged myself.

The building was as old as the house, perhaps fifty or sixty years, with a floor of compacted dirt sprouting a few weeds and bits of grass.  The walls were unlined – weatherboards nailed outside four by two wooden studs.  Ivana had slipped the chain in the small gap above one of the overlapping weatherboards, between the board and the stud, before padlocking the chain so that I was chained to the stud about half a metre above the ground.

I looked closely at the wall.  The construction was sloppy – nobody had bothered with a damp-proof course under the bottom wall timber and rot had got in.  I figured the nails holding the weatherboards might just have reached their use-by date, and possibly those at the base of the stud.  I swivelled round to face the wall and gripped the chain, placing my heels against the board immediately below where the chain circled the stud.  I gave a shove and was not surprised when with a dull creak the board popped off the stud as the rusted nail gave way.  I moved down to the next board, and again successfully popped the board off the stud.  Three more boards and I had reached the ground, and could now slide the chain down to the bottom of the stud.  That had been the easy bit.  The nails holding the weatherboards had been relatively light.  Those securing the stud to the bottom timber plate would surely be more substantial, but here my saviour was the rotting wood itself.

I started to saw the chain back and forth and was gratified to see the lumps of rotten wood come away.  Five minutes later I gave a solid heave and the chain sipped cleanly from under the stud.  My spirits lifted at this small triumph as I hauled myself to my feet and crossed to Sofiya.  I could see the muscles in her slim legs standing out and trembling as she fought to maintain her balance and position on her toes. 

Her eyes snapped open at the touch of my fingers on the rope around her neck.  It took only a moment to undo the knot and allow her to sink back on to the soles of her feet.  I pulled her to me, feeling her body go slack, on the verge of collapse.

“Sofie – sweetie – just hold on a little.  I’m going to take these clamps off – this will really hurt.”  As slowly and gently as I could, I applied pressure to open the jaws of the clamp on her distended left nipple.  She shuddered and made a stifled high pitched scream. 

“Okay – be brave – one more…”  I repeated the process which left her breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling with the effort and pain.  Only then could I safely undo the strap at the back of her neck and ease the red rubber ball out of her mouth.  It came out with a soft pop and a gasp from Sofiya, as she was able to close her mouth for the first time in hours, though not before a large drop of saliva ran down her chin and slid on to her breast.  I wiped it away as she buried her head against my shoulder.  Her body was shaking now, and I lifted her head gently to see if she was crying, but she wasn’t.  She smiled at me and her eyes looked as though they were ready to overflow, but she seemed to get a hold on things.

I undid the ropes on her wrists and elbows and she made soft moaning sounds as the circulation returned.  I steadied her as she sat down and brought her arms around to the front.  I watched as she tried to undo the rawhide strips that Ivana had used to bind her breasts, but her fingers weren’t working properly.

“Could you… please?” she asked, almost shyly.  For a moment I felt equally shy, then squatted beside her and did the best I could with my still-cuffed hands.  The hide was horribly tight after the water had shrunken the knots, and it took me several minutes to undo each one.  Finally she was free, her wrists, arms and breasts deeply indented with the red rope marks that would likely remain for an hour or two yet.  She got to her feet.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly, then stretched up to kiss me, a deep probing kiss, long and full on the mouth, her arms around my neck supporting the heavy steel collar that still weighed me down.  I found myself responding in kind, but I could not hug her in return because of my cuffed hands.  The fact that we were both naked, and I still carried chains on my wrists and a collar around my neck seemed not to detract from the naturalness of the moment - so much so that with Sofiya’s breasts pressed against me Mr Willy decided to make an appearance, to my momentary embarrassment.  It was not the time or place, but sometimes Mr Willy had a mind of his own.  This time he was overruled.  We broke apart, glowing in an unspoken warmth.

With the release of our bonds, it seemed like there had been a spiritual release between us, too.  For all that we had just endured, and for all that still had to be done, we did not need to burst into words.  Instead we seemed to share a quiet determination born of a common knowledge of what must be done.

Sofiya looked at me questioningly, wordlessly seeking direction for what must be done next.

“The girls are locked up in the house,” I explained.  “Chained to the floor.  I have no idea where the keys are – probably with Ivana and Warren – and their guns  - in the caravan.  I think we have to make a run for it – get help.” 

I had already made one disastrous decision that had got us caught in the first place.  Anathema though it was to leave Mary and Monica here, I didn’t really see any other option.  Until we freed the other two, it would be me and this lightweight psychic from Siberia – both of us naked as the day we were born, save for my collar and handcuffs – against two armed (and clothed) adversaries.  I didn’t like the odds.

Sofiya didn’t disagree.  She just nodded.

“Sounds like plan,” she said simply.

All that was fine - until we tried to get out of the garage.  The doors were rickety but solid, and bolted top and bottom. 

“We’ll have to break out some weatherboards,” I said, and found that this wasn’t quite as quiet as I would have liked.  I popped off some more from the studs, but when it came to levering them out of the way so that we could squeeze through, they were stiff and unyielding.  Eventually I had to break a couple which made a sound like a small gun going off. 

We scrambled through the gap in the boards and hurried around the front of the garage just as a light came on in the caravan. 

“Shit!” I exclaimed under my breath as we headed into the darkness following the track and hoping like hell we could disappear into the night before we were spotted.

We had gone perhaps a hundred metres, leaving the light behind us around a bend in the track when the sound of raised voices carried to us.  In that time we had gained a little feel for the access track.  It was cut into the side of a hill, and seemed to be following a valley.  Overhead there was a pale quarter moon that gave just enough light to show the steep bank rising above us on our left, while on the right, from somewhere just beyond the edge of the road, came the muted hissing of a stream or small river.

The track was running down hill with the stream, and it worried me because our options were very limited.  We could not climb the bank to our left, and the stream was likely to be problematic if we had to go that way.

The track was overgrown with grass and weeds, but even beneath these the broken rocks that formed the surface where the bulldozer had carved it out of the hillside were still able to bruise our feet.  We were making anything but fast progress.  The night was chilly, but the adrenalin pumping through our veins made light of that.  I didn’t know how long a start we had on Warren and Ivana.  They might well come on foot with torches so as not to miss us, or perhaps they would take the Toyota.  Either way, two barefoot fugitives were at long odds.

Ultimately, we were unprepared for what happened.  Expecting at least to hear the sound of an approaching engine, we were caught by surprise when the Toyota’s lights appeared behind us, coasting almost soundlessly over the grass.  I was not sure whether we had been seen, but it would only be seconds before we did.  I pushed Sofiya to the river side of the track and was only a step behind her when a massive shock hit me through the collar.  I didn’t know if it was because we had been spotted or whether Ivana was just taking a chance on stirring up some response.

Whatever the reason, she got it.  I cried out and went head first into a ridge of dirt at the edge of the track, as my legs folded beneath me. Sofiya responded by grabbing me and hauling me over the ridge.  The shocking pain came again as the vehicle got nearer and I couldn’t help crying out again.  I knew then that we had been seen as the pain went up a quantum and my limbs refused to obey.  I gasped and tried to speak, trying to get my hands to the collar to somehow relieve the agony.  Sofiya tugged me again and together we must have rolled a few metres through the grass down a steep bank.  The sound of rushing water was louder but I could no longer focus.  The pain was constant now.  I didn’t know what sort of cut-out safety device this collar might have, but it didn’t seem to be activating in a hurry. 

I gasped and tried to call to her but my voice wouldn’t operate.  I was seeing stars as my whole body started to convulse.  Somewhere in the distance there might have been laughter and a couple of torch lights sweeping in our direction, but I was oblivious to them.  The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced, seeming to activate every cell in my body.  I was seeing stars and about to lose consciousness when I felt a desperate heave from Sofiya and I rolled into the stream.

In a split second there was a flash of some sort and the pain stopped.  Then the deathly cold of the water took over, and my body went into shock.  The stream was only half a metre deep where we were, but quite swift on this part of the hill.  I sensed Sofiya beside me, holding my head above the surface against the weight of the collar trying to drag me under.

Slowly I managed to focus and to will my legs and arms to move, but they seemed to be permeated with a fierce ache.  Gradually Sofiya helped me to the edge of the bank from where two torches lit us up.  We both knew there were guns behind the torches. I crawled out of the water and flopped face down on the grass, barely able to move as Ivana threw Sofiya beside me and bound her hands behind her, taking the tails from the tie and looping them around Sofiya’s neck, pulling her wrists up behind her.  Sofiya coughed and choked, and finally found a position for her hands where the least pressure was exerted on her throat.  Ivana grabbed a hank of wet hair and pulled her to her feet.

Then it was my turn, but I felt I could hardly stand.  My body had been brutalised until the collar had short circuited in the water, thanks to Sofiya’s quick thinking.  Now I just wanted to lie there on the grassy bank and have the world go away, but Ivana was having none of that.  She grabbed the chain attached to the collar and twisted it so the attachment lug was at the back of my neck.  She grabbed my handcuffs and – with Warren’s help – pulled my wrists back over and behind my head to meet the chain.  There was the click of a lock and I felt the linking chain on the cuffs locked to the first or second link of the chain attached to the collar, firmly fixing my arms and wrists in place behind my head.

They grabbed an arm each and hauled me upright beside Sofiya and prodded us back up the bank.  There was no way we would be running anywhere in a hurry, and whatever lay ahead for us was not going to be pleasant.

*   *   *

27.09.09

story continues in The Abduction of Monica 22: Caught

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