Among The Missing

Story Codes:  m/f, cons, bd, packaged.

Among The Missing

Chapter 7

By Rubberwolf

It was late when Ann arrived home.  It had been a long night.  Her feet were killing her.  Although women were heals all day, most days.  A night spent standing up, wearing six inch stilettos is still murder, no matter what anybody says.  If she had really thought about her evening she would have bought a pack of “Party Feet.”  However, it was a very tired and saw woman who collapsed onto the sofa and removed her boots and rubber stockings.  The relief was instantaneous.  Like a cool breeze caressing her legs, after the hot and sweaty confinement of her rubber stockings.  Next came the opera gloves, which she pealed off with a distinct “Schluppp,” as the sodden rubber was pealed away from her arms. 

Leaning forward she managed to reach behind her and gradually undo her corset which, despite being loosened, clung to her skin, adhered by sticky sweat and cum.  Removing the final items of clothing, Ann eventually sat in her living room, naked, enjoying the feeling of cool air on her skin as the sweat evaporated off of her body. 

Picking up the pile of clothes from where she had thrown them, Ann carried the bundle into the bathroom and dropped them into the bath tub.  She then bent over, placed the plug into the bath and ran cold water onto her outfit until it was completely covered.  Using a sponge, she then cleaned the garments before carrying them into the dining room and placing them onto a collapsible dryer.  She then walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and returned to the bathroom.  She turned the shower on and while the water warmed up, Ann got her fluffy towelling robe from her bedroom and the thickest, fluffiest towel that she could find before returning to the bathroom.

Half an hour later she had washed all of the cum from her hair and body.  Her skin was now pink where she had scrubbed it.  Her eyes were pink and puffy from tears.  She was not sure what had happened to her this evening.  She felt dirty, unclean, she did not know what else.  She wanted to blame Dave, but couldn’t.  She had known the dangers and had thought she knew the rules and what could happen.  She had been wrong and things had gone further than she was comfortable with and so, when she could scrub no more, when she had shed all of the tears for her sole that were possible to shed, she got out of the shower.

She spent another hour, curled up on the sofa, white towelling robe securely wrapped about her, clutching a glass of cheep white wine with one hand and hugging Hugo, her large stuffed penguin, which the big, tough, private eye would never admit to owning as she watched late night television until she could not keep her eyes open a moment longer and eventually crawled into bed.

Sleep is the great healer and daylight came like a cleansing light through the cracks in her curtains.  Ann stirred and threw an arm over her eyes as the sounds of traffic and daily routine washed over her stunned and battered senses.  Last night all of her mothers fears had been true.  Ann was the painted whore that is every mothers nightmare.  Ann smiled ruefully.  If her mother had suspected a tenth of what she had been doing with Dave, Ann would have been grabbed by the ear and dragged kicking and screaming to the nearest priest for the most interesting confession the old boy would have heard in years.  And she could forget about ten Hail Marys and one Our Father.  The old Dominican would break out the birch especially.  Then again, mused Ann.

“Well,” Ann mused, “If sleep is the great healer, then coffee is the great restorative.”

An hour of coffee, strawberry jam on toast and breakfast television later, Ann was filled with a new resolve and understanding of herself.  She might have bitten off more than she could possibly chew last night, the bottom line, as far as she was concerned, was that she had enjoyed herself.  It might have been perverse, dirty, disgusting, but then it was now a part of who Ann now considered she really was.  Nobody, she reflected, rebels like a catholic and she had well and truly rebelled.  If she were a slut, then she would be true to herself.  She now knew that she was not comfortable with group sex, but felt more in control of her relationship with Dave.

An old line from her A level English sprang appropriately to mind and she struggled to remember the rest of the poem:

       “The moving finger writes; and having writ,

       moves on; nor all your piety nor wit

       shall lure it back to cancel half a line,

       nor all your tears wash out a word of it.”

“So be it,” Ann said to herself and, after leafing through the yellow pages and booking an appointment, stepped out to embrace the new day.

Looking in at the office, Ann leafed through her communications.  The background check had come back at last.  The Birgett family was, indeed, quite interesting, not to mention loaded.  Like most wealthy dynasties that Ann had ever heard of, the Birgetts had their share of tragedy and trauma.  Ms Birgett, Ann noted with interest, was not Nickys mother, rather her step mother.

“Curiosa and curiosa, “ mused Ann. Especially when she read the most recent tragedy to effect the family.  Nickys father, Ms Birgetts husband had died recently.  The gossip columns noted that the multi billion pound empires fate would not be decided until the new year, when the will would be read.  The most probable recipient of the family fortune was the daughter.  Although Ms Birgett was mentioned, it was only to note that she was latest of five stepmothers.

“Why,” Ann wondered, had Nicky felt the need to lose herself and why had the stepmother hired Ann to find her?  Her mind drifted back to the first morning of the case, just before she had gone to check out the apartment.  She had met her police contact but had been vague and non-committal.  Could it be that, rather than not being prepared to talk about a case, her former colleague was responding to the powerful influence wielded by someone that rich and therefore powerful?  These and other thoughts flicked though her head as she pulled up the URL sites she had asked Mike to look at.

Further investigations of the URL addresses did, indeed, turn up recent visits to an island resort and so, after a quick phone call to Dave, Ann booked a double room at one of the islands major hotels.  As far as Ann was now concerned, she could be a little freer with her clients money.

After taking care of business, it was now time to explore her new persona.

That evening, Dave marvelled at the new body jeweller that adorned Anns body.  She had pierced her nipples and now had gold six gold rings pierced through her pussy lips, three on each lip.  On top of this, Ann had spent three hours, lying on a couch, while a skilled artist, tattooed what he described as “Tribal Art,” onto the small of her back.  Although this was not visible, Dave seemed enthusiastic about the tattoo and seemed impressed when Ann pealed back the bandage to moisturise the fresh wound.

Dave had managed to book a couple of weeks off from work.  He had not taken much holiday this year and his superior was pleased that he had, at last, decided to take some time for himself.  The real reason, that both new, but did not talk about, stemmed back to a case that finished six weeks ago.  Dave had been involved in a particularly violent investigation into the triads.  An officer had been injured during the arrests and consequent investigations into the details had left many officers traumatised by the nature of the crimes and examination of related evidence.  Consequently, his C.O. was more than happy to grant his request at such short notice.  Especially since he had been advising Dave to take time off for some weeks now.

To celebrate what Ann called her new persona and the fact that Dave would be accompanying her, Ann leapt on Dave for some good old fashioned, but much needed, Vanilla sex.  However, Ann did not get out of their night without being bound.  As she lay in bed, post coital glow virtually lighting the darkened bed room,  hugging her lover, Dave suggested a little something that he had been planning to do to Ann for some time and that he called “Oven Ready.”

Ann was not sure that she was up to bondage at the moment.  But in keeping with her new life, readily accepted.  Crossing her hands behind her back and wearing nothing but a knowing smile, she turned around and prepared to be tied.

To her surprise, Dave did not tie her hands behind her back.  Instead, opening his bedroom drawer, he pulled out a long length of red bondage rope, softer and more flexible than normal rope, which her folded in two before using it to tie her elbows together.  Once her elbows were cinched together, Dave bent her left elbow and, using more bondage rope, tied her wrist to the top of her arm so that the arm was folded like a chicken wing.  Ann thought she knew where Dave was going with this but did not say anything to ruin Daves concentration as he repeated the process with the other arm.  Next he brought some thick tape from the drawer and, balling her hands into fists, used it to wrap her hands securely into a tight plastic ball.  Returning from the drawer yet again, Dave slipped what looked like miniature chefs hats over her hands. 

“Nice touch,” she commented as Dave slipped the second hat over her balled fist.

“I thought so,” he smirked.

Next Dave pulled a head harness with, what she now recognised as a ring gag attached, from the drawer and fastened it tightly around her head.  The harness had a steel ring in the top of it.  Dave pulled her hair into a ponytail, which he threaded through the ring as he was securing the harness.  Once  secured he then wrapped, what looked like, leather string around her pony tail, in a criss cross pattern so that the hair was tightly wrapped behind her.

Laying Ann face down on the bed, Dave then tied more of the red chord around her knees so that an end of rope trailed from each knee, while a single length spanned between her legs, like an ineffectual hobble.  Ann was tempted to ask about this, but realised how little she would be able to convey through a ring gag and so remained silent. 

Dave then bent her legs at the knees, so that her feet were touching her buttocks, which is where he tied them, wrapping roper around each ankle separately, before tying them to the top of her thigh.  Dave then fitted two more chefs hats, one on each foot which would, if not for the gag, have elicited another comment, or at least a smile.  Ann was then rolled over so that Ann could kneel on the bed.  However, rather than binding her in that position, Dave arranged her legs so that the connecting knee rope was pulled taught, with her legs apart.  Ann was then forced forward so that she buried her face into the bed.  The two knee ropes where then pulled behind Anns back and tied tightly together so that Anns knees, which were at her side, where pulled painfully backwards.  At this, Ann did protest.

“Anggh.  At urtts.  Ot oe ight,” Ann protested through her gag, spitting drool onto the bed.

“Sorry about that, but it needs to be a little tight.  See how you get on with it and if you still think its too tight in about five or ten minutes, I will loosen it a bit,” Dave offered as he pulled the ropes tightly together and tied them behind her back.

Dave then brought a metal ring from the drawer, along with another length of leather.  Anns hair had already been secured, so it was easy to pass three or four inches of her hair through this new rope, which he then folded back on itself before wrapping the leather chord around it and securing the ring to the end of her pony tail.

Dave then brought another length of rope to the bed, which he treaded between her shoulders, under her bound elbows, towards her but.  Something cold and metallic was placed on her ass.  Ann found this puzzling.  But not nearly as confusing as when Dave undid a tube of KY jelly and proceeded to lubricate her anus. 

Ann was not puzzled for long as Dave took the blunt metal hook that was attached to the final piece of rope and eased it into her ass.  He then threaded the hook rope though the loop in her hair and pulled.  This forced Anns head backwards as her hair was pulled painfully by the rope and the hook put pulled painfully within her.

“Unghh,” Ann protested.

“Nearly done,” Dave beamed as he opened his wardrobe and pulled out a box from the bottom, which he dropped on the floor. 

Dave returned to the wardrobe and pulled several lengths of wood from the bottom.  These he screwed into the bottom of the box and were, in fact, legs.  Once the box was standing securely next to the bed, Dave opened the top to reveal a strange interior, the most noticeable thing being the plastic sheeting on the bottom of the box and the two holes, one at the front and one at the rear.

Ann was blissfully unaware of this, as her view was restricted to the head board of the bed.  The first that she knew of the box was when Dave picked her up and lowered her into it. 

Another strange thing about the box was to do with the strange ring gag that Ann was wearing, for it incorporated a second ring, just outside of her mouth.  This slotted into a special cradle in the box, over one of the holes.  Dave then tightened some form of ratchet that caused Anns face to be pulled painfully towards the front of the box and the plastic which lined the front panel.  Just when she thought that her nose, or lips, would be crushed, her forward motion stopped.

Ann was now secured tightly into the box, her but pressed against the back hole, her face against the front.  Each hole being three inches in diameter.  Dave then lowered the lid.  After a few moments Ann heard the distinct sound of rushing air within her small prison.  Dave must have attached a pump, or air line to the box.  She was at a loss to know why, until the plastic wrapping began to hug her tightly and eventually lift her off the floor of the box.  She then noticed that the plastic on top of her had began to press down.  The pressure began to build and, just like the mouth lock, Ann felt that she could not endure any more, the pressure stopped.

Now Ann was tightly trussed, just as Dave had hinted, like an oven ready chicken, trapped in a wooden box, which may represent the cardboard box that a turkey usually arrives from the butchers in, or may perhaps represent the oven.  She was securely vacuum sealed, pinned by inflated plastic built into the box.  Her mouth was forced over a hole, and so was her pussy.  She had no illusions  what that was for.  She had a hook up her ass, her hair was being pulled.  She was, she considered, in for a long night.