As anyone could tell by both the decor and the people hanging out at it, the “Moon80” bar was still living in 1983. The smell of 2nd grade vodka could start poisoning the lungs of the most casual clients from outside the double doors, while anyone paying enough attention to details would never dare entering it with a female presence at his side.
Inside, in the main room, even the soundtrack was acting on nostalgia, the old juke box playing a tune from one-hit-wonder Tommy Tutone: 867-5309 (Jenny) was the name of the song. And, just like that song, our story would focus on one girl in particular, whose name, in this case, was not Jenny.
After 2 AM, it was usual to hear the most delusional stories told by the drunkest low-life scum in the city, nobody paying too much attention anyway: those still sober enough would probably be staring at their tables regretting any decisions in their lives, including the fact they started hanging out at Moon80, of course. That night, one of the least respectable clients, Clint “Rope” Routledge, who earned his nickname by his frequent ramblings about him having had bondage affairs with the most varied celebrities, was peskier than ever, claiming “the next day he would be rich” and that “he would never had to hang out in such a stinking shithole ever again, but would be enjoying oysters and champagne with high class whores”. One particular client, someone who was only occasionally seen at the Moon80, however, seemed most interested in his claims, and, after leaving the counter, sat right next to Rope with two shots of vodka in his hands.
“So, you must be the one called Rope around here, so the barman said.” the man told him.
“Yea, you bet. And who would be you?” Rope said, so drunk he could hardly use any proper syntax.
“I'm Masterson, pleased to meet you. And, this shot's on me, my new friend. Only, I'd love to hear the rest of the story.” Rope, as a hawk diving onto a rabbit, took the shot right from Masterson's hand and shoved the vodka down his throat.
“S-story..?! What story you talk about, man?” he replied, the alcohol still burning his guts.
“The one when you get rich and drink champagne with whores, of course.” Masterson said, getting himself a little closer and digging into his chair.
“Oh! I'm 'fraid can't tell you all. It's a shecret, I would have to kill you if I done”.
“But you just said tomorrow you'll be flying into oysters and champagne, right? What difference could telling me more make, except for making a new friend and getting a few more bought rounds.” Masterson said, the most fake smile on his face.
“W-well, I guess you right, right? Tomorrow... rich, but tonight, yea you will buy me more...” Rope replied. “Oh it's a 'ice story indeed, 'ts a lady, y'know. A lady will make me rich.”.
“Very interesting, my dear... Rope, why don't we start from the beginning?”.
Victoria had just finished another photo-shoot when she was brought back home by her driver, kindly put at her complete disposal by the production house managing the entire business. She quickly dismissed him and headed for the lounge she would be staying in for a few days; her place was cozy and very nicely decorated (no wonder the executive producer was a woman), the only drawback being the renovation works happening just outside her cottage, to the nearby water tower, which provided the district the basic need. The whereabouts of her accomodation resembled the old Italian countryside where she spent her last holidays: green grass, stone wells, fountains, and farms all around; a perfect postcard landscape.
It was late afternoon when she entered her place, and immediately reached for the bathroom, getting rid of her high-heel shoes, her mini-skirt and matching top, allowing herself in dark purple bra and panties only. She was about to undress completely, and get a well-deserved relax moment, when her cellphone bleeped from inside her bag, an incoming message notification.
“Ugh, always at the worst times! But, it could be important...” she thought to herself, as she moved back to the living room.
As she took a few steps outside the bathroom door, she felt very strong hands grabbing her out of nowhere: someone reached for her legs, preventing her from kicking or trying to run away and almost tripping her, while the other attacker both restrained her arms behind her back and placed a wet, soft cloth onto her mouth and nose.
“WHPPPHHMM!! MMMPH!! HLPHHFFM!!” Victoria tried to scream and struggle away from their iron grasp, but her attempts at twisting and turning were useless. Plus, being caught completely by surprise, she had already inhaled a heavy amount of those sickly sweet vapors the cloth was emanating.
“Breathe it in, Princess...” a cold, baritonal voice said behind her.
“MMMPH!! GRPHHM!! UHMMPHN!! Nnhmmhn... whhmph.... nnhmmm.” In less than a minute, she was out cold, at the mercy of the unknown aggressors, falling limp into their vicious hands.
The men dropped Victoria's unconscious body on the floor, both taking their time admiring her lovely, perfectly shaped body and legs. The one who just chloroformed her was a lean but toned, slender figure with dark hair and beard, while the other had a much shorter and stocky body type. The latter was our old acquaintance, Rope. Both of them wore worker uniforms, and had managed to infiltrate their target's place by moving through the nearby construction site.
“We got her, Clint. That's the last of them, finally.” the tall guy said.
“Yea, time for more bondage, I guess.” Rope replied, smiling and producing a couple of black zipties from his pocket. “Don't worry, miss Justice, I will take good care of you.” he added, as he proceeded locking her wrists behind her back and ankles with his tools.
“I wondered why they called you Rope the first time I saw you, but I guess I understand now. Remember we don't have to harm the merchandise. The Prince already said he would pay for the whole package. And I'm not into this for the fun, but for the money.” Rope's fellow thug said.
“Come on, Dime. Do I look like someone who didn't do this before? And what about the other two chicks we'll be delivering? Those were some nice packages, you have to admit...”
“Okay, okay, I got you. Now let's put a gag on this one and take her back to the car before anything unexpected happens.” Dime said as he reached for their victim's cellphone and turned it off, before taking it with him.
Rope gladly proceeded in stuffing a small white cloth in her mouth and gagging her with another thick cloth he had readied for the occasion. Then, they both stuffed her into a large work bag the stocky thug could easily carry around without anyone noticing its precious inside and steadily, yet acting as natural as possible, got out of the cottage and walked half a mile away into the countryside, around an abandoned farm when they had their car parked. They immediately took Victoria out of the bag and into the trunk, driving to the long, now unused path that led to their hideout: the warehouse of an abandoned airfield 40 miles away from any town or village. The trip took them more than an hour down the dirt patch, and, were they less complacent about their recent felony, they would have surely heard those dull thuds coming from the back of their vehicle.
As soon as they had parked their car just outside the warehouse entrance, they jumped out and reached for the trunk; Dime opened it only to be kicked right across his chest by Victoria's bound legs, still kicking from inside.“MMPHMMH FHUMPH!! LHMMPH MMPHG GHMPH UHM UHFFHMMPHS!!” the girl frantically screamed from inside her gag, insulting her captors and demending to be released.
Rope checked on his accomplice, and, noticing he was alright and recovering from the blow, got Victoria out of the trunk and onto his strong shoulder, the kidnapped starlet still twisting and turning, kicking out in the air.
“GRRPPHHMM!! MMMPHH!!” she protested, in vain.
“Thank God we gagged that bitch up, Rope. She really needs some lesson in discipline.” Dime said, wiping the dust from his pants and following Rope into the warehouse.“I agree, pal. But first, we'll have to put her under, this one is a very feisty one.” Rope added to the conversation, Victoria shivering in terror for a long while before starting to moan again under her gag.
From over the thug's shoulder, Victoria could see the inside of the building: the vital space consisted of one large environment, with a large table and some chairs around it. Onto the table there were many kidnapping tools such as handcuffs, rolls of tape of various colors, coils of rope, cloths and bottles of unidentified liquids. On one side of the warehouse, a metal door, most probably locked up, led somewhere else. Her fate looked more grim by the second, and by the time Rope almost slammed her onto one of those chairs, she already knew what would be coming up next.
Dime was already pouring some chloroform onto a fresh new white cloth, when the other thug gave him a sign as to stop.
“Wait a moment, Dime. Before you put her under, there's something I wanna do. That bitch almost dislocated my shoulder with her struggling.” Dime, as Victoria, looked puzzled. But nonetheless, he seemed determined to carry out his plan.
He went outside, in the car, then quickly came back. He was holding some kind of bright-colored cloth in his hand as he approached the girl, who sat onto the chair in fear.
“These, miss Justice, are a pair of panties I took from a hooker last night, as a souvenir. My friend here knows I have certain... vices. And I look forward on keeping up to my reputation. So, little spoiled brat, I'm going to shove them in your mouth and then gag you the hell onto them, so that perhaps you'll think twice about struggling with such... vibrancy.” as he spoke those words, he quickly ungagged Victoria and took the cloth out of her mouth.
“P-please, no! Not that! That's so grosswhMMMPHH!!” Before she could say anything else, the man jammed the used panties into her mouth, the taste of the dirty undergarment almost making her gag and cough.
“Mppphh!! NNHHMM!” her protests went on, but with less strength than before.
Rope had Dime pass him a roll of silver duct tape, and laid three huge strips of duct tape over the girl's lips, sealing them and effectively gagging her once again.
“That's a good girl. Now, you can proceed chloroforming her so I can put her together with the others.” the stocky man said.
Who were those “others” he was referring two? Were there more hostages with her? Victoria was so terrified and thinking over those man's words she almost didn't see the soaked wet cloth coming, once again, over her nose and mouth.
“WH-MMPHH!! PLHHMMPH, NHMMH UGHMMHN!!” Victoria screamed in terror, but the duct tape did his job in turning her pleas into unintelligible cries.
“No need to struggle, miss. It'll all be over soon.” Dime said as he firmly held the cloth over her face.
And, as the man predicted, soon she fell once again into the darkness.
“Alright, I guess my job's done here for now. I'm going to go grab something to eat, and some smokes. You know what to do. After midnight, as we agreed, you're free going into any hell-hole you like, nightshift until tomorrow's delivery is on me today.” Dime said, before leaving by car.
Rope took his time and carefully prepared the “package”: first, he cut off the plastic zipties from Victoria's wrists and ankles, replacing them with masterfully tied heavy hemp ropes. He also looped some coils around her thighs and over and below her knees, before tying a bikini breast harness with rope running from over and below her breast to up and down her beautiful, slender neck and shoulders. As an added measure of "courtesy" towards his guest, he wrapped some more tape around her head, carefully lifting her hair to prevent it from sticking to them. He looked so happy with the final result he took the time to take some pictures with his mobile phone, before lifting her up and bringing her in the other room, which they used as a storage for their precious merchandise; he put Victoria, still sleeping, onto a filthy mattress, as other two girls, tied and gagged with silver tape back to back in their bra and panties, blindfolded with a wide strip of the same tape, struggled and mumbled as they heard the door opening.
“You got company, girls.” Rope told them “Too bad you can't see it, though. I'm absolutely sure you would have gotten along, he he. But don't worry, I think you'll all be taking a vacation to the same place soon enough.” He sadistically said as he laughed and left the room, leaving the girls to struggle in the dim neon light as he locked the door behind him.
A few hours later, Victoria was suddenly and abruptly woken up by the two girls screaming in their gags. Her vision was still blurry from the effects of the chloroform, and the dark blue neon light didn't help.
“Damn it, can't they see I'm gagged as well?” she thought to herself as she focused to regain her sight.
She could now see the two girls, tightly tied right in front of her. They were both gagged and blindfolded, but she could recognize them almost immediately: they were her friends Liz Gillies and Ariana Grande.
The fellow captives held their breath for a second, surprised at their cries for help getting some form of response.
“MMMPHMPH!! WHM GHMMPH GHMPH UHMPH UHPH HHMMPH!!”
Help! We got to get out of here!
“HMPHM!? UHM BHMMPH UHM GHMMMPH DHMM!!”
How!? I'm bound and gagged too!
“DHMMP PHMPHH UHM OUHMHF THMMPH!!”
Try picking at our tape!
Victoria tried moving towards her friends, but the heavy rope and the chest harness took their toll on her mobility: she would never be able to use her hands to pick the tape, so she tried stretching her legs and reaching the closest bind, which was Liz's ankles, with her feet. That move was of no use too, since the tape was wrapped way too strongly for her to take any effective action.
And, all that gag-talk conversation was really getting nowhere. All they could do was sit tight and wait for their fate to unfold.
“So, those girls are still there with your mate, who's doing the nightshift, right?” Masterson politely asked.
“You be... youbbet sson!” Rope replied, drunk to the bone after many more shots his new friends gladly bought through the tale.
“Well, I guess that's enough, then.” Masterson said, pulling a tape recorder from his pocket and putting it onto the table, the record button still on.
“Wh-whassup with that, pal?” Rope asked, still unaware of what was about to happen.
“Your kidnapper ass is up.” Agent Masterson coldly said as he produced a pair of handcuffs and restrained Rope grabbing his by the neck and slamming his face onto the table.
Seconds later, an entire squad of policemen bursted into the bar and took Rope into custody, Masterson issuing orders to Central Command on the whereabouts of the kidnapped girls. Soon, they would all be rescued and justice would, once again, prevail.