When I wake up I have immediately the feeling that something is wrong. The alarm clock on my nightstand tells me it is 3:14am.

I turn on the light.

"I told you she’s awake," the taller of the two masked intruders says. "You better don’t scream, or you’ll regret it."

The big guns in their gloved right hands shows me that he has a good point.

"We don’t want to harm you," the shorter one says now. "But you’ll have to come with us until your father has paid the ransom."

So this is this about, I think. Having a dad who has plenty of money is good sometimes, but now it really sucks. My father’s software company isn’t one of the big players, but it provides more than a good living for all of us – means my two sisters and one brother, too.

It must have been fairly easy for them to get into my dorm room here at Stanford, I deduct since I don’t hear anything else than my fast breathing.

Am I scared? Yes, I am, but not too badly. They are masked, that’s a good sign, and they made it clear that it’s about the money.

"How much are you asking for?" I try to find out.

"Two million, we know that your father is good for that," the shorter one answers. "It might take him a little bit, but he will cough it up because you’re his favorite little girl."

Looks like they did their homework, I think. Of course, we have talked about this in the family. My father actually has put some money in extra accounts for a case like this, but I also know that it will take him at least a week to cash out this amount.

"Meanwhile you’ll go with us," Shorty continues. "And don’t try anything stupid. We really don’t mean to harm you, but we will if necessary. And we know about your martial arts thing, so we are prepared."

Oh shit, one chance gone, I think, but I try not to show them. "I’ll cooperate. What do you want me to do?"

"First, braid you hair as tightly as you can since that hairdo will have to last for a while. If you can do two braids, that would be even better," he advises me.

I do as he told me. My raven-black hair is almost waist-length, incredibly thick, and slightly curly, which makes it hold really well in any hairstyle. For the night I usually just catch it in a pony-tail. I braid slowly to buy time to think, but I cannot come up with any plan to escape at this moment. Looks like I have to make it up as we go.

"Now find a skirt that’s short enough that you can go to the bathroom without having to pull it up." It looks like Shorty is the boss of the two since he does all the talking now.

Puzzled, I choose a dark blue mid-thigh length miniskirt that’s rather wide than skin-hugging, pull it up, and close the Velcro on the right side.

"Don’t," he stops me when I grab a pair of panties from my underwear drawer. "These will only be in the way." I put the panties back in the drawer.

"Do you want to wear this tee shirt for the next week or so or choose something else?" Shorty asks now.

I decide for a smaller one since my nightie is four sizes too big. It has a picture of Old Faithful Geyser in front. I turn around to dress it.

"No bra?" Shorty asks.

"Do you think I need one?"

"No, I guess you won’t do a lot of exercise," I hear a slightly mocking undertone. "But pick some comfy shoes for now."

I decide for a pair of New Balance running shoes and lace them tight.

"What’s next?"

"This," Tally finally says something while he picks up the gadget in question out of a small bag that I haven’t paid attention to before. "Sit on the bed and put it on. Do I have to explain?"

Finally a sensation of oncoming doom takes over. They have planned this very well, I have to admit. "No, I get it. I said that I’d cooperate."

Two pieces of chain, about eighteen inches each, are attached to a large stainless steel cuff in the middle. On both ends are smaller cuffs.

I click the big one shut around my neck, but when I stick my right hand into one of the small ones, they sur-prise me again. "No, not wrists, ankles."

I do as he said. I’m sitting on my bed now, neck chained to both ankles. My hands are still free, but I can’t re-ally move a lot.

"Put your arms in your back now," Shorty continues. "I guess you know what this is?"

My heart sinks to my knees. Yes, I do know that there is no way to escape it without help.

A black leather single glove armbinder!

"We wish there was another way, but the boss has made it very clear that your arms have to be tied up at all times in combination with one or both of your legs. Looks like he has a healthy respect for your martial arts vir-tues."

He’s right, I think. I’m pretty positive that I could have taken out these two if not for the guns, but now?

I fold my hands in my back, and Tally slides the armbinder up my arms until my hands reach the bottom end. Luckily it isn’t the type with cross-straps in front. Two straps on either side come forward, go around my shoul-ders, then up over my shoulders to meet behind my neck the third strap, which is attached in the middle of the armbinder and comes up in between my shoulder blades. Tally pulls it tight, also the extra straps around my wrists and my elbows.

"Still okay?" he asks, and I nod.

"That’s good now," Shorty says. "Make sure that her tee shirt isn’t crumpled up. She will have to wear this for a long time. But also lace tight. Tighten the elbow strap again. We know that your elbows meet behind you back."

How the hell do they know that? I think, but push the thought aside for now.

Tally does a good job of lacing. The armbinder is on as tight as possible without being uncomfortable. I’m pretty sure that I will be able to keep it on for a week and tell them. The only disadvantage is that I feel getting moist between my legs, but, of course, I don’t comment on that part.

"Take a pair of panties and stuff her mouth, then use the tape," Shorty advises his companion.

"I’ll need two of these," Tally says after having pulled out several pieces of my underwear. "They are all close to nothing."

I grin inwardly. Well, I do like sexy things!

"Then take as many as you need."

I wind up with four pairs in my mouth before he is satisfied and tapes over. "Don’t forget to paint a mouth on! It’s unlikely that somebody sees us, but you never know." They really have thought of everything, I think again.

"Now close your eyes."

I feel them getting taped over, too, then a pair of glasses, probably sunglasses is pushed on my nose.

"Now, to get out of here to our car," Shorty explains next, "we will throw a poncho over you to conceal your tied up arms. We will walk on either side of you, so even if you could see, there’d be no escape."

I feel one of them opening the cuffs, then he actually pretty gently steers me off the bed. I feel the poncho, then we are on our way to the unknown – for me.

When I wake up this time I feel totally disoriented until everything comes back.

We made it to their car, which I thought must be at least a minivan if not a van since it was so easy to get in. Chloroform put me to sleep for I don’t know how long.

We are still moving, my eyes are still taped, and my mouth is still stuffed with my own panties. Luckily he took clean ones, I think.

I totally lose track of time. Finally we seem to have arrived.

I can’t tell which one of the two steers me out of the van. The ground under my shoes feels soft, like hard packed sand.

One step up seems to lead us into a building, and the ground changes to soft, probably carpet.

"One more step, then we’ll take off the gag and the blindfold," I hear Shorty saying. "Sit down."

He pushes me onto a hard probably wooden chair and takes off my shoes and the poncho. Then he pulls my right ankle up to my thigh, and I feel a strap tightened.

"Ankle to thigh cuff," Shorty says. "Prevents you from kickboxing."

The strap feels comfortably wide, at least two inches, I guess.

"Look, we’re professionals, it’s not our goal to torture you. Neither will we rape you since we have to keep up our reputation. The two of us have nothing to do with the ransom pick-up. We will be stuck here in the middle of the desert until the boss calls to set you free. You’re positive that your father will pay?"

"Mmph," I nod since I’m still gagged.

"Oh sorry, let’s take this stuff off now."

Finally the gag and blindfold goes, and I notice that it’s already daylight. We must have driven some way, I think, since the sun is shining brightly into the cabin. We are in an inviting looking kitchen with adjoining dining room and living room.

I was right about the ankle to thigh strap, too. It’s almost three inches wide.


"Please, let us know when you leg falls asleep," Shorty says. "We will alternate then, or you can choose to be tied to the chair, or we can put cuffs on your ankles. If you want to follow me now, I’ll show you the bathroom."

Luckily years of martial arts have given me an excellent sense of balance, so I have no problem at all follow-ing Shorty along a hallway to the bathroom in question.

"It has a toilet bidet combo, so you can go any time you have to," he explains, "without us having to help or untie you. This way you and we are safe from any bad surprises. By the way, are you hungry? My partner will be preparing breakfast that we’ll have after the video."

I ignore the video topic for now and answer: "Yes, I’d like to join you, but how do you want me to eat?"

"Your choice. Mouth on the plate, or we could feed you."

"I have a third alternative."

I can literally feel him frowning behind his mask. "What do you have in mind?"

"Using my foot, of course," I grin. "Anything wrong with that?"

"Not if you can do that. Aside from that we could use some entertainment! It’s gonna be a long wait."

"Well, I have a few more suggestions about the entertainment part if you don’t mind," I take the lead. "Do you have any games? I love playing games, everything from Scrabble to Trivial Pursuit."

"Sounds like an idea," he admits. "Looks like we’re going to get along with each other. You’re actually doing way better than anybody else so far. One of our clients was screaming and cussing at us so badly that we had to gag him most of the time. Another one was crying for a week and a half that we wondered how her body could hold that much water."

Despite myself I have to laugh. Looks like they actually have humor.

"By the way, call me Tom, and my partner is Buddy."

I’m sure that those names are not real, but ...what the heck. No use in aggravating them, I decide. I’m stuck here, so why not spending the time as pleasantly as possible.

"I’m Lacey, but you know that already."

"Fine, Lacey, I like that. Would you help us with the video now? The earlier we do this, the faster we’ll get over this."

"Sure. What do you want me to tell my father?"

"I’m pretty sure you know what. Just tell him that you’re fine, that we’re treating you well, and that you’re in the hands of the Abductor that he knows that you won’t be harmed if he pays."

He confirms my suspicion that they’re working for the Abductor. This particular kidnapper has made head-lines for over eight years now. He seems like a ghost, nobody seems to know who he is, no real lead was ever established, and he even doesn’t seem to mind when the parents call the police. He always finds a bullet-proof method for the money drop. On the other hand, as long as the parents paid, the kidnapped kids, a lot of them actually young adults like me – the Abductor doesn’t seem to like to take small children – always reported that they were treated reasonably well. On the other hand, there were two cases in the beginning of his career when the parents refused to pay. The kidnapped children were returned and not killed, all right, but they were badly mutilated. One sixteen years old girl was found without arms, legs, and eyesight, the other one, a boy of twelve, was paralyzed from the neck down and blinded as well.

After that everybody paid and got their family member back unharmed.

"Do you know if you are his only retrieval team?" I ask Shorty in good hope to find out some information.

"No, we think he has at least two more though we’ve done all his jobs here on the West Coast."

"My guess is you don’t know who he is?"

"No clue," Shorty admits. "We don’t care either. His jobs are well organized, and he pays good and in time. But back to business now. Are you ready for the video?"

"Almost. If you just give me some privacy since I really have to go to the bathroom."

"Come to the living room when you’re done," Shorty says. He even closes the bathroom door!

The ankle-to thigh cuff has hiked up my short skirt anyway, so it’s not in the way of sitting down on the toilet. I pee for a long time since, like I said, I really had to go. I find the button for the bidet, which I am able to push with my toes, and the warm water feels good. It doesn’t relieve the tension though that’s caused in my loins by having my arms so nicely tied up in this incredible armbinder.

What a deal! I think. If I just could get one like this and also find a way of getting in and out on my own. Maybe something like a time-actuated lock? I have to think about this, I decide.

My tied-up knee flushes the toilet. Before I head back out, I look out of the window. California desert, I decide, no house in sight, only the characteristic hills of the state’s arid southwest.

Little problem though to open the door, but luckily it has a lever and not a knob, which would have locked me in. Again my knee pushes the lever, and I hop back to the living room.

"Could we hide the armbinder, please," I suggest, "since it will only worry my father?"

"Yes, we will put the poncho back over you and take the shot mostly of your face," Tom agrees. "Get comfy on the couch, that way the shot won’t show any landscape background."

The video is short. I tell my dad that I’m fine, that they treat me well, please to give them the money, and not to worry since I’ll be back soon. For authenticity Buddy’s hand holds a Washington Post from today into the frame, which the bought this morning on the way here.

"What’s about breakfast now?" Buddy wants to know. "It’s after 12. I’m hungry."

"Go ahead, Lacey will join us, and she has a surprise for us."

Fifteen minutes later we are sitting around the coffee table, which I chose to be able to use my free foot to eat. Buddy and Tom look comfortable in two easy chairs opposite me.

I sit on the couch’s edge, my tied-up right foot dangling down. I grab the fork with my left toes and load a piece of scrambled eggs. My nose tells, and my eyes confirm, not to expect too much, but it is worse than it looks and smells.

"Urgh," I cannot avoid commenting. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"Self-paced learning," Buddy doesn’t seem to get it yet. "Don’t you like it?"

"To be honest, it’s horrible," I admit. "May I have a suggestion? Please, let me do the cooking while we’re to-gether here or my stomach won’t survive this."

"I told you multiple times that your cooking isn’t great," Tom supports my statement. "Of course, if you think you can do this, Lacey."

"I will try hard, promise!"

I eat some toast that’s not completely burnt to crisp and sip orange juice with the straw that they thoughtfully have provided.

"How’s about I make you a list for dinner?" I suggest. "I assume that you have to deliver the video anyway?"

"Correct," Tom confirms. "Buddy is leaving in ten minutes. Can you do this?"

"Can you give me twenty? I usually use a cookbook and need to think a little bit."

"Yes, no big deal," Tom says, and – looking at Buddy – adds, " for a decent meal that’s nothing."

"My cooking isn’t that bad," Buddy mumbles, but I deduct that this has been a topic between the two of them before.

Tom puts a notepad in front of me, and a pen. "I assume you can write?"

"Yeah," I answer not totally convinced since I’ve never really tried this before, but I know that my toes are very dexterous.

I am a good cook. My secret isn’t fancy recipes though, it’s mostly the combination of spices that I use on normal meals, which gives them a unique taste that everybody whom I’ve cooked for so far, has just loved.

I hop over to the kitchen cabinets and ask Buddy to open the spice drawer. Like expected, salt and pepper, nothing else. I also check pans, pots, and cooking utensils and add something to my list.

I decide to make pot roast with noodles and tomato egg salad. Writing with my left foot is slow, but legible.

"What’s all this stuff?" Buddy scratches his head. "Where am I supposed to find this?"

"Try Safeway," I suggest. "They should have all of it. It‘s important that you bring exactly these noodles," I add, "they are part of the recipe. And USDA Select Quality for the meat."

"It will take me at least three hours to do all these errands," Buddy complains.

"We’ll be okay," Tom plays this down, probably in anticipation of a decent dinner. "But, Lacey, our instructions are explicit. If there’s only one of us around you have to be tied to some piece of furniture. So if you have to go to the bathroom, do it now. You won’t be able to as long as Buddy is gone."

"Yes, I have to go. But can we play a game together?" I ask. "Do you have any?"

"I think there’s dominos somewhere," Buddy remembers. "We played them once."

"Can we add Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit, and Chess to the shopping list?" I ask. "I can teach you."

Tom tells Buddy to bring the games as well, which causes some more grunting, but no direct objection.

I go to the bathroom, number two this time, and I know that I’ll be fine for at least four hours. Tom has found the dominos meanwhile. "Where do you want to play, Lacey?"

"Coffee table, I guess. I can use one of my feet that way."

"Well, I’ll give you both if it’s okay to tie you to the couch."

"Sounds good," I agree though slightly wary of the things to come. But so far they haven’t hurt me, so I don’t think they’d start now.

Correct assumption. Tom puts a leather collar around my neck and buckles it up in the back. A wide leather belt goes around my waist. He padlocks one end of a long, very long, thick chain to the waist belt, then wraps it around the couch in every imaginable way, and padlocks the other end to my neck collar. I can still move, but I would have to take the couch with me to go anywhere. Tom releases my leg then.

That shows me one thing, I think. The two are very good at obeying orders explicitly, very disciplined, too. It doesn’t look like they are too imaginative though. Maybe that will give me a chance to escape in the long run. If not, well, they are actually fun to be with, I decide. So far I haven’t been bored.

Since dominos is mostly luck and not strategy, the scores are almost even. My toes are getting a lot of good practice that way, too.

Finally Buddy returns. A look at the clock in the corner tells me it’s been almost four hours.

"I got everything," he’s clearly proud. "All the games, too. Did you have a good time?"

"Awesome," Tom says. "I’m seriously thinking about keeping Lacey. She’s so much fun!"

"You know that we can’t do ..." Buddy starts, then laughs. "I know we can’t do that, but Tom likes pulling my leg."

"Do you think you can release me from that couch?" I ask, "just for a change. And when do you want to eat?"

"In an hour or so," Tom suggests. "How’s about you?"

Buddy and I agree, so I ask: "How much will you help me with cooking? I’d do as much as I can myself though."

"As much as you need," Tom answers. "Just tell us."

"I think I will need both legs, what do you have?"

"Would you be okay with an eight inch spreader bar between your knees?"

I consider for a moment. "Perfect! After a bathroom break I’ll get right down to dinner."

I like staying hydrated, especially here in the desert, so I drank plenty of water during our domino game. Tom attaches the spreader bar with both leather cuffs just above my knees. Luckily the bar isn’t the totally rigid type, but it padlocks to the cuffs, so I have a good range for my feet. Buddy unwraps all the chain. I notice that he takes off the waist belt, but not the collar.

I head for the bathroom, which is almost routine now.

I realize that I enjoy this tremendously. I really haven’t missed the use of my arms so far! Odd, isn’t it?

Due to the spreader bar I waddle back to the living room to get started with cooking dinner.

Luckily for me the cooktop is in the island, which is large enough that I can sit on it and use my feet to stir and spice the food. Of course, I ask them to boil the noodles and put the pot roast from the package into the heavy cast iron pan.

"Did you check on the expiration dates of the spices?" I ask Buddy.

"Was I supposed to?" he asks back pretty baffled. "Hell, I’ve never even heard of three quarters of these."

"It would have been good, but hopefully we are lucked out because Safeway stuff is usually not bad." I go through all of them, and it turns out that only the basil isn’t entirely fresh.

I use my toes to unscrew all the lids, but I have to ask them to peel of the protective covers where applicable.

I notice that both of then are staring at me while I’m carefully applying the spice to the meat in the large pan and stir from time to time.

"Something wrong?" I ask despite I know very well what’s the matter.

"No, nothing at all," Tom answers hesitantly, "though ... you’re really something! I’ve never met anybody like you, Lacey. You’re just incredible how you do this. Like you’d have used your feet all of your life."

"Well, a girl needs to stay nimble ..."

They laugh. That’s good, I think because I have finally a vague idea how to escape. An idea that still has plenty of ifs, but some things I’m starting to figure out. For instance, the van they used to bring me here. When Buddy came back after his shopping spree he didn’t put a key anywhere, and I cannot detect a bulge in his pockets either – and he’s wearing fairly tight jeans. So there’s a big chance that the key is in the ignition. Addi-tionally, they don’t seem to lock the front door either during the day. They completely trust my armbinder and the various leg bondage options.

So far, so good. But how to overpower two grown guys with guns when you are a hundred and twenty pounds girl with your arms in a single sleeve armbinder tied up behind your back and at least one leg useless all the time as well?

Answer, you poison them!

The Abductor has done his homework well, but he obviously failed to inform them that I’m a major specializ-ing in organic chemistry. More, that I’m working on a project at the moment to utilize natural ingredients for the use in drugs, mainly sleeping pills.

And all the spices have triggered an idea!

But first I need to gain more of their trust.

"We’ll be able to eat soon," I announce after they have giving me another spoonful of the pot roast gravy to taste. Unfortunately the spreader bar prevents me from getting one foot close enough to my mouth. "Would you mind taking off the spreader bar and apply one of the ankle to thigh cuffs again?"

I notice that Tom hasn’t forgotten protocol yet. First he handcuffs my left ankle to a chair leg, then he takes off the spreader bar, and then he ties up my right leg with an ankle to thigh cuff.

Buddy sets the table and serves all of us.

"My god, this is incredible," Tom stares at me wide-eyed. "I’ve never eaten anything so good!"

"It’s only pot roast and noodles," I contradict.

"But it’s better than anything I’ve ever eaten," he repeats. "This is ... just awesome."

"Yes, it is," Buddy agrees while he’s helping himself to his third portion. "I have to admit that this is a lot better than I can do."

"This is an insult for our guest to mention your muck and Lacey’s five star cooking in the same sentence," Tom growls at him. "If you do that again I’ll shoot you."

All of us start laughing. Good, I think, this might actually work. Give two or three days and one more thing to go.

But not before tomorrow’s dinner.

I wake up lazily. The sun’s already high in the sky.

We went to bed late yesterday for two reasons. First, Tom insisted to send Buddy on a second shopping tour to buy today’s brunch and dinner – we have agreed on two good meals a day. While he was gone I introduced Tom to Chess with my right foot chained to a table leg. He actually did reasonably well for a beginner.

After Buddy’s late return, we nevertheless played a mean round of Scrabble. I didn’t have to hold myself back too much since I got lousy letter choices so that we finished almost even. I decided that I shouldn’t show them that I have a high capacity for strategic thinking.

I slept almost through with one bathroom break.

"Sorry, Lacey, but I have to secure you to the bed for the night," Tom almost apologized last evening while he tethered first my ankles together with leather cuffs and then attached a chain to the cuffs on one end and the bed’s foot post on the other with two padlocks. "Do you think that’s comfortable enough for you that you can sleep?"

"Sure, I got enough play to turn from my right to my left side, and I usually don’t sleep on my back anyway. Don’t worry, your merchandise will be fine."

"You’re already are a lot more than merchandise, Lacey," Tom said softly, and I can hear that he’s serious. Men are easily to win with good food, I think, but there was more to come. "We really enjoy your company, your spirit, your incredible performance with your arms in this armbinder. I’ve really never met anybody like you, and if we’d met under different circumstances, who knows what would have happened. You probably won’t believe me, but I’m not a bad guy, neither is Buddy. But we know we’re lazy, and this is easy money from rich people who might or might not have screwed over the working population to get it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a modern Robin Hood, but what do you expect when our own President is so corrupt? Gives a good excuse for everybody. Either way, please, call me when you feel uncomfortable or have to go to the bathroom. I will come, promise. And I hope that your arms are still okay in the armbinder?"

"Don’t worry, everything’s fine, Tom. Good night."

"Good night, Lacey. Sleep well."

I call Tom because I really have to go again. He takes the chain off the cuffs, but he ties my knees together with a leather strap before he takes off the ankle cuffs.

"Do those ankle to thigh cuffs work or do you like something else better?"

"They are fine, they might actually work better for cooking that the spreader bar. I can use only one foot that way, but that’s enough for what I need. Do you want me to start with brunch right away?"

"That’d be great!"

I have decided to make ham and cheese omelet, small rib-eye steaks, baked potatoes, and cauliflower mu-shroom salad with olives and onions. Having witnessed yesterday evening how much Buddy can eat I’ve also provided for larger amounts of everything, means I had him buy larger quantities.

Like the dinner it turns into an overwhelming success!

I actually enjoy the following Trivial Pursuit game, too. I’ve always liked it because there is less luck involved than with most other games. Both are doing not too badly what makes me think that Tom has told me the truth, that they’re not stupid, just lazy.

I start with dinner early since it will take more time.

Irish Stew doesn’t sound too exciting, but my feeling for spices gets it there.

I look at two pairs of eyes behind their masks that stare in awe at me.

"That’s Irish Stew?" Buddy asks incredulously. "No way. I’d have thought that it’s Beef Stroganoff or some-thing like that."

"No, it’s only Irish Stew," I shake my head. "Just a little refined."

I decide this is a good moment to start with part two of my plan. When people are as stuffed as these two they tend to not think straight. And even Tom has eaten a huge portion, Buddy probably a quadruple one.

I’m sitting on the couch again, this time my left leg is tied up to my thigh, and I look at them. "I don’t really like to bring this up, but I’d like to talk with you. Hope that’s okay?"

"Sure," Tom says immediately. "Are you uncomfortable in any way?"

"Yes, but not in a regard that you think. Look," I hesitate, suddenly not so sure if I really want to do this. "It seems to me that we have the same problem."

Both of them are all ears, but also puzzled.

"Yes, do you really think I haven’t noticed those big bulges in your pants when you look at me? I know that I usually have this effect on men since most men like long hair, long legs, and big boobs. I sure am well equipped in these three categories, I know that, so I can’t blame you, especially since you can see most of my legs all the time and my tee shirt doesn’t hide too much either with these armbinder straps pulling it tightly around my boobs. I’ve also a suspicion that you like me this way. Don’t you?"

They look at each other, saying nothing.

"Look, I’m positive that you’re into bondage, why else would you stick me in an armbinder instead of just slapping a pair of handcuffs on me?"

Tom finally says reluctantly: "You’re right. We love bondage, especially armbinders, so we just decided to combine business and fun. Hope that’s okay with you since handcuffs wouldn’t be that more comfortable either for such a long time."

"That’s totally okay with me. I love this armbinder since I’m into bondage, too. Needless to say that I’m very thankful that you keep this so professional, but I want to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" Tom asks.

"Yes, you probably haven’t noticed, but wearing this armbinder makes me horny, too. I don’t want to have sex with you, but, maybe, we could ..."

Here finally my courage deserts me, but I have started it, so I have to finish it.

"... help each other. Now, " I add fast before they get a wrong impression, "I’m not into blowjobs, but I could offer you a footjob in return for a handjob on me."

They look at each other, clearly totally at a loss what to say.

"You trust us that much?" Tom finally says, "that we wouldn’t get carried away."

"So far you’ve taken good and very professional care of me, so I’m positive that we can keep this the same way as well."

"You’re not kidding?" Buddy finally is able to say.

"No, absolutely not. If you’d put your hand between my legs right now you’d get it dripping wet. This thing here," I wriggle my arms in this awesome armbinder, not to much avail, of course, "has the side effect to make me this horny. I have one condition though."

"And that is?" Tom asks, and I can hear that they are already convinced that this is a good idea.

"I would ask both of you to take a shower before we do this."

Tom laughs. "Granted. I guess you’ll have to take your weekly shower early, Buddy."

"Not true," the addressed mumbles dissent. "I’d like to take my shower now."

"Sounds good," I smile. "Go, now, get your shower! You’ll be first."

"Who’s second?" Tom wants to know.

"You," I suggest. "You can take your shower while I’m with Buddy."

"And who do you want to help you?"

"Who wants?"

They look at each other. "Both?"

"Sounds good to me. I can go off multiple times," I grin. "I’d suggest that thick rug over there," in lack of mov-able arms and hands to use my chin points in the direction in question. "Should be comfortable enough and temperature isn’t an issue anyway. It’s warm."

Buddy takes off for his shower – and returns fast wearing only jeans.

I look at him. "I was hoping that you could open my belt buckle and the zipper with your feet, too," he looks kind of sheepishly even behind his mask.

"No problem, you’ll be surprised what these toes can do. But first you’ll have to swap to that spreader bar be-tween my knees again," I ask. "I need both feet for this."

Even now Tom doesn’t forget procedure since he ties my right ankle to a table leg first, only then he takes off the ankle to thigh cuff, and restrains my knees again with this comfortable spreader bar. I waddle over to the agreed rug and lie down on my back. I see Tom taking off towards the shower.

"Kneel in front of me," I ask, and Buddy obliges happily, "and close your eyes. You’ll get more fun out of it that way."

He follows this suggestion as well. I got an ulterior motive for this request though, I don’t want him to see how flooded I am already between my legs!

Since his belt is pulled tight I have to fumble a little bit, but it opens as well as his zipper. I pull his jeans down to his knees, then his underpants, which put up some resistance due to the large content inside. Buddy’s a big guy, and his male part is correspondingly huge.

My toes are kneading only for a short time until he comes. Luckily he misses me, but this was a risk that I was prepared to take.

"Thank you, Lacey," he actually says after he breathes normal again. "This was better than most I had so far."

"So I’m not only the best cook that you’ve encountered so far, but I also can do the best footjob. Thanks!"

"You’re welcome," he nods, not getting the irony.

Meanwhile Tom is back, also only in jeans. Same procedure, only it takes me a little more time since he tries to hold back hard to enjoy it for longer.

"Thank you, Lacey. Thank you so very much!"

"Well, now me, remember?"

"Of course, I do," Tom confirms. "Whom do you want to try first?"

"Your choice, but you have to find something else for my legs first. What’s about a really long spreader bar between my ankles?" I suggest. Anticipating his request I waddle back to the couch where he cuffs one ankle to a table leg before he replaces the short spreader bar between my knees with a three-footer between my ankles.

"Perfect," I smile despite I have some trouble walking back to the rug area. I lie down half on my back as comfortable as I can get with my arms secured on my back in the armbinder.

In between they have agreed that Buddy is first. I close my eyes, and he’s actually very gentle. He doesn’t have to get my skirt out of the way since it’s already hiked up well over my hips, so he goes straight for the tar-get since I feel his fingers enter me right away.

"You weren’t kidding about being ready, were you?" Buddy states the obvious. I like his approach since I’ve been boiling inside for almost two days now. It literally takes me seconds to reach an incredible orgasm, which lasts several minutes.

"Whow, I didn’t know that I’m that good," I half overhear Buddy saying and Tom laughing at this. "That wasn’t you, dimwit, she’s really incredible in every regard. I really hate to think that we have to return her. But business is business and comes before fun."

When I have regained my breath I say: "Thanks, Buddy. That felt so good."

"When do you want to go for the next round?"

"Five minutes?" I suggest tentatively, and Tom laughs: "Is that supposed to be a challenge?"

"No, not really," I shake my head. "Please, try, Tom."

He’s actually smarter than Buddy again. Tom starts caressing my thighs so gently that I’m really getting to the point to join his point of view, too bad that we didn’t meet under different circumstances. He might be a good lover!

Up and down his hands go, always avoiding coming to close to the entry point. He seems to enjoy my thick patch of pubic hair, too, I notice since he spends plenty of time there, too. Finally he probes deeper to find me close to drowning again.

Tom’s fingers slowly go deeper, deeper, moving gently, caressing my crucial spot, and I go off again. For several minutes. Again.

"Thanks to you, too, Tom," I smile at him. It’s actually a genuine smile because I really feel that way. Too bad that I still have to try to escape since I really don’t see that the Abductor gets my family’s money if I can avoid it. If it was only about these two I wouldn’t really mind that much, but I don’t want to ask either how much their part would be. "Can we repeat this tomorrow?"

Both of them laugh. "Whenever you like, Lacey," Tom answers my question though. "Know that this is totally okay with us as long as you want it."

"What’s about a competitive game of Trivial Pursuit after we put together the shopping list for tomorrow’s meals?" I suggest. "You can leave the spreader bar on for this. I can roll the dice with my mouth, and you move my pawn."

"What’s about the meat?" Buddy asks looking at the long list that he has written.

"No meat tomorrow," I answer. "I’m sure you’ll like the Portobello mushrooms. They are so good that any sort of meat wouldn’t go with them. Trust me! But if you haven’t you enjoyed my meals so far, I won’t cook any more."

Loud protests from both of them settle this topic.

The game turns out to be fun, too, if fun of a totally different kind. I decide that I have achieved two goals. They trust me a little bit more since I’ve shown them that I trust them not to abuse me, and – I got the relief I needed so badly. Having this armbinder on all the time makes me so horny!

Buddy’s internal clock seems to be a few hours ahead of Tom’s and mine today, so he goes to bed around midnight while I play another game of Scrabble with Tom. Buddy will go shopping for the food supplies tomor-row morning so he’ll be back most likely before Tom and I even get up.

"Would it be against your procedures if you tied only one of my ankles to a bedpost tonight?" I ask Tom when he gets me ready for the night. "I could have used a little more turning radius last night."

He thinks for a while. "Actually yes," he admits finally. "I have to secure your legs together and to the bed for the nights. But I am allowed one other possibility, if you don’t mind. I can leave your legs entirely loose if you’re okay with a metal collar and a chain to the headpost."

"Why don’t we try this," I decide. "Would you be willing to change during the night if it really doesn’t work?"

"Of course, Lacey, you should know by now."

It’s actually not that bad since the collar is very thin and tight, but not too tight, so it doesn’t hurt my neck lying on it. The advantage is that I can turn freely in all directions.

My third day with my kidnappers starts pretty much like the second. I wake up sleepily lazy and call Tom to release me.

Of course, the neck collar doesn’t go before my right ankle is closely attached to my thigh. I could live as a triple amputee, I think. Well, actually I will have to if I try my idea tomorrow!

Both of my guys are rolling their eyes in delight at today’s breakfast, which is actually something so profane as pancakes and applesauce. Hard to believe, huh?

The day passes fast with lots of fun with more Trivial Pursuit – and a Portobello mushroom dinner, which is one of my best works that I’ve ever done. I can literally feel the delight of good food with my guys!

Good thing is that they are now used to that I have one of my legs in an ankle to thigh cuff for eating so they won’t get suspicious tomorrow. I also decide to practice my toe skills more today so I ask innocently: "Would you mind if I use only one foot today? I’d really like to find out if I can do it."

As expected neither of them objects, obviously they are curious about the things to come. Buddy even takes off to the shower without that I have to ask him! It will be even tougher for me since my left foot is tied up. I’m left-handed, so I’m left-footed as well.

Same position as yesterday. Unbuckling the belt and pulling down the zipper of his jeans is harder, but I get rewarded with a very good consistency. This time I slide my foot up and down his thighs, which visibly turns him on more. Finally I spread my toes apart as far as I can, and I am just able to wrap them around. I slide up and down with the predictable result shooting out very soon. Luckily he misses me again!

Tom comes back from his shower in between.

"We have to keep her," Buddy jokes. "This is so much better than any hooker."

"Well, I’m sure you can ask a hooker to do the same for you," I suggest. "She might have to practice for a while, but I see no reason why somebody else shouldn’t be able to do this. Ready, Tom?"

Of course, he is! Again he tries to enjoy this to its full extent, but he goes off as well. My toes must be pretty sexy, I think.

"I want to ask you for a favor if you don’t mind," I probe.

"Sure, as long as it doesn’t mean taking off your armbinder," Tom nods.

"No, on the contrary, I want to enjoy this for longer today. This armbinder has a D-ring, which you can use for a perfect hogtie. I will hop to my bedroom first, then I will work my way back here, hogtied. Hopefully you’ll get as much fun out of this as I will. You can add a gag, too, if you like gag-talking."

I lie down on my bedroom’s soft carpet.

They are really into it! I can see Tom’s eyes sparkle when he uses a second ankle to thigh cuff on my right leg. Surprisingly he adds another obstacle for me, he snakes a strap between my thighs and calves to tie my knees together, then he uses a padlock to tie my ankles and the armbinder’s D-ring together.

"Is a ball gag okay?"

"If you don’t mind me drooling it’s fine."

"Actually if you drool over this ball gag only half as much as we drool over your meals, that’d be great."

He gently puts the two-inch ball gag into my mouth stretching my jaws to their limit. I contemplate what I’ve gotten myself into. My arms are still in the armbinder. My knees are tied together, and both my ankles are at-tached to my thighs. In addition the armbinder’s D-ring is padlocked to my ankles. The ball gag already makes me drool. Can I do this? Getting to the living room?

I can. My legs are long compared to my torso, and so are my arms. Means that for a completely stringent hogtie the D-ring should rather be attached somewhere between my knees and ankles. This way I can bend and unbend my body at the hips. I struggle onto my side, then flex and unflex my butt and belly muscles to slowly work my way towards the living room. It’s warm, this is work, the ball gag is big, so I sweat and drool a lot. I feel soaked when I’m finally lying on the thick rug in the living room.

Tom takes all equipment off me except for the right ankle to thigh cuff and – of course – the armbinder.

"Buddy, do you want to go first again?" Tom asks his companion, who agrees immediately.

As expected his fingers make me reach an explosive orgasm literally within seconds.

"Give me a few minutes," I pant afterwards. "But don’t go too far away."

"Ready?" Tom asks after a while when I’ve regained my breath. I nod.

"Okay, close your eyes, I have a surprise for you, too, after the awesome performance you gave us earlier."

I do as he says, spread my legs, the free one and the tied up one, and I feel something warm and wet touch-ing my thigh. Not his hands, his tongue!

Whow, what a treat, especially since I refused a blowjob.

Tom’s very thorough. He covers my thighs, my love triangle, my hips several times before he starts digging deeper. However, then it doesn’t take long ...

When I regain my breath, he asks innocently: "When will you be ready for the next round?"

"The next round?" I ask dumbfounded.

"Yes, I you like we can keep this up for a while."

"That’d be great, but what do you want me to do in return?"

"Cooking tomorrow," Tom and Buddy say like with one voice.

I laugh. "Deal. What’s about writing the shopping list for tomorrow before the next round?"

Since I’m slightly tied up Buddy writes the list. I sneak in the things that I will need for my plan without them getting suspicious. On one hand I almost regret going ahead with my idea since this is the best sex I’ve had in a long time. And the most in such a short time, too!

But ... business is business, and sex is sex.

"Would you mind adding some things before we go ahead?" I suggest, and Tom nods.

"What do you think about adding a second ankle to thigh cuff for my other leg? And I’d also like to have that neat ball gag, and do you have a blindfold?"

It seems that they are well-stocked, and everything is in place soon.

"Now I have a request, too," Tom asks. "Can I pull up your tee shirt that we can treat your nipples, too? Un-fortunately the armbinder is in the way of taking it off completely, but it should work that way."

Of course, I nod. Great idea, I think.

The next few hours are some of the best of my life. Blindfolded, ball gagged, my arms securely taken care off in an incredible armbinder, both my legs in ankle to thigh cuffs, I can hardly move – not that I want to. Tom and Buddy alternately push me from one climax to the other. Their tongues and fingers on my nipples, or on my thighs, or in my vagina – everything seems to set me off. I must have lost at least ten thousand calories when they finally relent.

Tom unties my right leg that I can go to the bathroom and use the bidet to clean me up a little bit.

Buddy went to bed in between, so I sit down with Tom to play a game of Scrabble. I let him win.

What a day, I think, when I’m in bed with my neck chained to the headpost and my ankles secured together with steel cuffs and a twelve-inch chain.

For brunch we have something more sophisticated today.

As an appetizer tiny pieces of Quiche Lorraine from Costco, but with some additional seasoning from me. Small New York steaks with baked potatoes, horseradish, butter, and sour cream. My special composition of apple pie for dessert. I can see in my guys’ eyes that they more than just like it. I’m eating with my left foot since my right leg is secured in an ankle to thigh cuff now. I asked for this that I can use my right leg and foot later. I will have to despite my left one is more skilled.

After between three and five helpings for each of them they are so finished that they alternately have to take a nap. I play Trivial Pursuit with the one who’s awake at any given time.

Now comes the preparation for dinner. Do I really want to go through with this, I ask myself. Yes, I cannot be this selfish, and the loyalty to my family overrides me own sexual needs. There’s one thing I will do though, I decide.

We will have filet mignon with a certain type of mushrooms that I need to put them asleep. As side dish there are self-made French fries and Broccoli, which both of them like. The former is for keeping them busy and tak-ing their mind off the mushrooms. White wine since I need the alcohol as a catalyst to set the sleeping agent in my composition free.

It works. They prepare the fries, and I sizzle and season the mushrooms to perfection with my right leg since I already asked to swap the cuffs while I’m sitting on the island at the cooktop.

We are ready to eat, and Buddy sets the table.

"Get already started, I have to go pretty quick," I advice them while I’m already hopping towards the bath-room. I actually really have to go because my nerves are working overtime.

And really, both of them are already yawning when I return less than five minutes later. Another five minutes later they are fast asleep, both of them snoring quite loudly.

The unknown is how long they will be out. Will I have enough time? Well, I will make the time, I decide. I sit down and press my big toe on a certain spot on their throats for a while, first Tom’s, then Buddy’s.

Then I take the rather small risk to set two minutes aside to write a note to Tom.

Tom,

Sorry, business.

Call me at my cell 415-555-0101. I’d like to see you again. I really enjoyed our time together.

L.

I stuff it in his pants pocket. If I can’t get away I will have to retrieve it later and hide or eat it that they will never know that I tried to escape. I’m not sure if this will work at all since there are so many factors involved.

But I’m determined to try!

I have to pick up two things before I hop towards the front door.

The first from my bedroom. Luckily, the armbinder doesn’t have mitten ends, which provides my hands a minimum of feeling. I’m able to use them to pick up one of the bondage straps they used on me giving me so much fun.

The second is a knife with a big handle from the kitchen. I pick it up with my mouth.

Since Buddy was shopping this morning the front door should be unlocked. I have observed every day that they lock it only for the night. One of the things that helped me to decide to go ahead with this is that there are levers on all doors, not knobs. The latter would have given me a hell of a time with both my arms in the arm-binder and only one foot available – which I really need to stand on.

Lucked out in this first regard, I think. I lift my tied up knee all the way up to my chest until my foot is able to grasp the lever and my toes hook onto it. I push it down and I’m able to open the door. Not too easy because I have to hop backwards with my toes still holding the lever down. Finally the gap is wide enough to push my left knee through and open the door all the way.

I leave it open – just in case I have to return.

Only one step down outside. I hop. Fortunately the martial arts training has provided me with an excellent sense of balance.

Not so great is that now comes the sand, which is quite hot in Southern California’s early evening. I hurry up trying to hop in long leaps, bound leg and bound arms stretched out as far as possible to counterbalance.

Probably fifty feet to the van.

It has to be the van since the only other vehicle is a Harley, and there’s no way that I can use that.

Now comes the moment of truth. Is the key in the ignition?

I overheard Tom scolding Buddy two days ago for always leaving the key in the ignition, but the response was only: "So what? Nobody else here for twenty miles! Or do you think that Lacey is going to drive away with her arms in an armbinder?"

Well, that’s exactly what she’s trying to do now, I think.

I peek inside the full size Dodge van. A big sigh of relief, the key is in the ignition!

Still some crucial obstacles to surmount though. The first one, and I think it will be the toughest one, is to open the door.

Therefore I brought the knife and the strap. I bend far enough forward that my tied up hands can reach the door handle on the passenger side after I made sure that both doors are unlocked. Good that the van’s door locks have the pins that indicate whether they are locked or not.

I thread the strap through the handle, then the loose end through the buckle. I pull tight. Good, enough leve-rage, I think.

Next I shift the knife in my mouth that I can put the tip on the door button. I get in position that I can pull on the strap while I push the button.

My teeth protest, but it works. I let go of the button, but I don’t drop the knife. I intend to take it with me, who knows what else I might need it for. I pull the heavy door all the way open.

To get in is fairly easy for me. Backwards. I support myself on my bound hands, then I put my only usable foot on the step rail, and slowly, very slowly, carefully, lift myself backwards onto the passenger seat.

Pfffht! Another part of my plan is achieved.

I move over onto the driver seat. Buddy is a big guy, which is in my favor since the seat is far back.

The luckily so nimble toes of my right foot nevertheless fumble for a while to turn the key in the ignition, but finally the van starts, the fairly new V-8 idling healthily.

I have to turn the van around though. Well, I think, not everything can go as smoothly as it did so far.

I check the emergency brake. It isn’t locked as expected. Why should sloppy Buddy do this in the middle of nowhere in the desert on a level stretch of land?

I shift into reverse, then quickly move my foot down to the brake pedal. Idling rpm moves the van slowly backwards. With my foot on the brake pedal, I use my knee to steer. The tricky part will be when I have to let go of the brake to shift into D.

Now!

It works! I gave myself enough space left before the van would go into the sand.

Forward now. I’m on the way back to freedom – but away from all the great sex, too. Well, who knows, Tom might actually contact me ...

Twenty miles – or more.

I estimate that they will be out for two hours, but I could be off, so I take some courage to go faster.

On a straightaway I set the cruise control to forty-five so that I can keep my foot on the brake. Meanwhile the wind resistance has closed the passenger side door, not all the way, but enough that it doesn’t bounce open any more.

Sometimes I change it to the gas pedal to speed up. So far it’s all gravel road, but pretty straight. Good that they didn’t take me somewhere into the High Sierra, I think. I have no idea if I could have maneuvered the nar-row winding mountain roads there.

The clock in the dashboard tells me that it’s been forty minutes when I hit a paved road.

No road sign, of course, so I take the fifty-fifty chance and turn left. If it’s a dead end I have lost, I think. But I vaguely remember that we took a right turn when we left the paved road to turn onto the gravel. So the chance is better than fifty per cent.

I am right.

After less than ten minutes I hit the little village of Loraine. I decide to keep going though for two reasons. First I want to give Tom and Buddy a chance to get away before I have to lead the cops to the little cabin. Second is that there’s a sign that says only eighteen miles to Bakersfield.

I’m gotten used to driving without arms and only one leg now – well, one and a half leg. Since I’m high up in the van the other drivers can’t see the armbinder either, so I feel safe that nobody will get suspicious as long as I drive inconspicuously.

Bakersfield. I follow the signs to the police station.

My foot opens the driver side door, and I slide out. I hop to the glass entry door and use my head to knock. A cop hears me, looks up – and rushes towards me to let me in.

"Hi, I’m Lacey Edwards. I got kidnapped. Can I please call my parents to tell them that they won’t have to pay the ransom?"