My first contact with the French bondage-o-sphere was the stories. They were often romanticized, unbelievable, uneven in terms of syntax and spelling, but each one made us feel the perverse imagination of its author.
They were free, easy to access, on sites like Histoires de Ligotage which did not ask for any registration or age verification. Their authors only asked for a few comments in return, with pseudonyms as enigmatic and simple as Scotch, Anonymous or Entraves, whose story site is still online.
This new story re-uses the character of Zula, the kidnapper-on-command from my previous story.
I like the character, I find her a bit like Lisbeth Salander. In the following pages, she carries out a robbery with sequestration for rich fetishist sponsors met on the Dark-net.
With this story, I hope to add my stone to the edifice of French bondage stories and inspire others.
A more complicated purchase than expected
Zula’s hand was quickly tapping away on the Retina MacBookPro. Normally, placing an order on the Internet is a breeze. But there was a catch.
Zula wasn’t on her computer, let alone at home, and especially not with her credit card. The kind of task that requires leaving no trace and especially no fingerprints, which is why she wore curved gloves, made of fine, genuine leather, essential for precision activities, such as typing on a keyboard, manipulating a telephone or even tying a person securely.
But this is all rather technical, and the young woman’s mind was much more occupied with making her crime of the day profitable. She was quickly scrolling through the items on her favorite Parisian designer websites. What could be better than a new expensive silk scarf to go with the season? Or that genuine leather perfecto? How about that Vivienne Westwood chocker?
After some thought, Zula decided to take it all. After all, her victim had no say in the matter. And even if she had asked, it would have been very difficult to understand her.
With three pairs of dirty panties filling her mouth, the slightest yell turned into a barely audible whisper.
Zula typed in her victim’s credit card numbers and pressed the “purchase” button. A 3-D Secure confirmation screen appeared as the iPhone X began to vibrate in the small Haussmannian living room.
Zula swore that the phone was locked and that the screen saver showed nothing but the damn PIN code request.
Zula entered the room and her victim, who spent her time moaning and fidgeting, calmed down immediately. This guard still has energy despite spending more than an hour in the hog-tie position.
Amazing. Zula took care to put her hood back on before removing her prisoner’s night mask, revealing eyes whose expression was a mixture of terror and questioning. Zula brought the iPhone close to the young woman’s face without it unlocking. She didn’t have to activate the face unlock. There were only two ways to unlock the phone: fingerprint or pin code. And the first solution was out of the question, as the young woman’s hands had been carefully typed and Zula no longer had enough tape for a new bondage. That was just her luck.
Zula was going to have to use her torturing skills to extract the precious PIN code from the phone.
An eventful night for a fashion blogger
Earlier in the evening
Chloe was returning from a private party in the heart of Paris, her legs wrapped in nylon and booted, delicately posed in the leather armchair of a chauffeur-driven sedan. The outing had been fruitful: new partners, new sponsors and new gossips.
After posting her latest selfies with modeling stars on her Instagram, she decided to take a quick look at her comments.
Damn! Another weirdo asking her if he could buy her shoes worn!
Chloe quickly deleted the comment before permanently blocking the profile. It’s crazy, she has more and more comments like that since she specialized in leather shoes and silk scarves.
It’s a good thing these perverts don’t know where I live! thought Chloe.
The driver dropped her off in the rue d’Auteuil, in the 16th district of Paris. She went up quickly in her apartment, she did not like to walk in the street late at night, even in the very calm and posh 16th district. She quickly typed on the digicode of her building and rushed into the marble entrance hall, where the heels of her boots resounded.
But as she opened the door of her apartment, a cold and gloved hand came to rest firmly on the bottom of her face, stifling instantly any cry of surprise.
“Not a word” whispered a female voice, while pushing her inside the apartment. During a few seconds, the hand disappeared from her mouth.
“Please, take my bag pat… Mphhhmph!!!”
Chloe didn’t have time to finish her sentence, her attacker had just gagged her with a bandana with a knot in the center.
Chloe then felt her two hands brought back firmly and a kind of link strongly tightened her two thumbs, probably a zip-tie. With the tie in place, the intruder pushed her onto the couch.
Chloe could finally see her mysterious captor.
She was wearing a tight lycra hood, revealing only brown eyes, a slim-fitting perfecto, a tactical backpack, black skinny jeans and biker boots.
Chloe wanted to test her links and to try to shout in spite of her gag, but the young woman with the hood took out immediately a butterfly knife which she agitated under the terrified eyes of Chloe.
“Listen my pretty, if you want to end your night in one piece, you better behave. Capito?”
Chloe waved her head up and down as she looked away from the knife.
“Perfect.”
She took Chloe by the elbow and led her toward her room.
“Your underwear, where is it?” the intruder said, pointing inside the room with her knife.
“Euceu,” Chloe tried to say, pointing to her dresser with a jerk of her chin.
The intruder opened the various drawers, before handling the various undergarments which were there: bras, panties of marks and many tights.
“Oh, but what is it?”
She walked over to Chloe, now sitting wisely on her bed, and used the dildo she had just found to caress her captive’s face.
“But tell me, I didn’t know you were a naughty girl under your blogger’s airs!”
This little perverse game seemed to last an eternity to Chloe who tried in vain to avoid the caresses of the phallic object. And then how did she know about his profession of blogger? Had she stalked him via the Internet? Had she hacked his Instagram account to geotag it?
“Well, that’s not all, but we both have work to do.” she said as she set her backpack on the bed.
Work to get down? But what did that mean?
The intruder took an object from the bag, a cube about ten centimeters big, probably a portable HD camera and put it on the dresser.
“Let the show begin!” she said, activating the object. She took Chloe’s booted legs and removed her shoes with a surprisingly great delicacy, before feeling their inside. Chloe’s astonishment was replaced by concern when the intruder pulled out her knife.
“Above all, you don’t move a muscle.”
She cut the zip-tie that connected her hands before removing her trench coat as well as her other clothes, leaving only her pantyhose, bra and gag.
She took a large strip of black electrician’s tape and covered Chloe’s fist until it was a black, plastic cocoon, leaving not a single inch of skin visible.
While the binding of her second hand was finishing, Chloe was experiencing with anguish the solidity of the tape. Any release had become inconceivable without outside help.
And it was only the beginning. Her arms were again brought back to be tied with the tape. The intruder finally finished by linking her newly bound wrists to her ankles, as close as possible making the slightest movement impossible, going as far as finishing the tape roll.
“Don’t worry, we’re almost done, I just need a few things.”
Chloe saw her jailer going around her room to finally take two of her Hermes scarves as well as three used panties found in her dirty laundry bag. Chloe didn’t even have time to wonder what she was going to do with them: the bandanas that served as a gag was removed and the three panties rolled into a ball were forced into her mouth, not without resistance from her.
“Well I take which one? The white and red one or the beige one?” she asked, pointing to the two scarves.
“Mphhhh!”
“Excellent choice! The white and red will go perfectly with your skin tone, my beautiful!”
The intruder folded the scarf carefully, then used it to wrap the entire lower face of the captive, exerting strong pressure on her swollen cheeks and securing her gag permanently. She finished her bondage by the pose of a mask of night, plunging the victim in the blackness.
Chloe tried a final cry, but the disgusting gag filtered out any sound. By way of answer, her jailer was satisfied to answer in a soft and low voice:
“Shhhhhh my pretty, it’s time for bed! Meanwhile mom will search your room! I hope I won’t come across any more naughtiness!”
Tickling and breath-control
Chloe had lost track of time. So much so that when she heard someone enter her room she instantly thought of a policeman or a fireman, and imagined herself with a warm blanket and several men to comfort and pity her.
Her disappointment was compounded when she saw the face of her burglar again.
By seeing this last one agitating desperately its iPhone in front of its face, Chloe understood immediately that this last one tried to unlock it.
This is our chance, Chloe thought. She’ll be forced to remove my gag so I can give her the PIN code and then I’ll scream at the top of my voice!
“Look, sweetie, I know you’re a bitch and despite the doe eyes you’re giving me, you’re going to start screaming as soon as I take this generous gag off.”
Chloe nodded, but the intruder continued, “…And since I don’t want to take any chances, I wouldn’t ask you for that infamous PIN code for a good half hour of torture.”
Torture me? Me? What have I done to go through this?
“But don’t worry, this torture won’t leave any traces! We shouldn’t damage such a pretty face! We will already get rid of this too insistent breathing for my taste.”
What do you mean, a too insistent breathing? But what does this crazy woman have in store for me?
The intruder took out a box of colored caps. By the time she recognized a pair of earplugs, the infamous burglar had used them to block her nostrils! Even if a very thin stream of air was still coming through, it had become incredibly painful. Faced with the horror of her situation, Chloe began to cry.
“Ohhh, poor rotten-spoiled darling, too used to her regular doses of air! Well, that’s not all but it’s time for your correction!”
Joining the gesture to the word, the burglar put back the mask of night on the eyes of the supplicated, before effleurer gently every part of his body: shoulders, arms, hips, scrutinizing the slightest reactions.
Came more insistent caresses on the feet, producing the noise as light as characteristic of a leather glove on nylon. Chloe held back, but long minutes of caresses ended up betraying it: she had begun to curl up her feet, before trying to agitate them desperately, whereas the hogtie presented them on a plate to his torturer.
“It is not worth hiding it anymore darling, I recognized the naughty tickler that you were! Come on my darling, it’s not worth hiding anymore, you have to let go!”
After unbearable minutes of struggling not to scream, Chloe exploded.
What little oxygen she had left, already rationed because of her gag and her nearly stuffed nose, was instantly consumed by her attempts at uncontrollable and futile screaming. It is there where she understood all the sadism of her situation.
In addition to a painful breathing in normal time, the tickling made any breathing impossible during all the duration of their application.
The burglar’s hands finally left Chloe’s feet and she could once again have access to the very thin air that the gag allowed her. But this rest was only temporary. She did not delay to feel again the leather of the gloves of her torturer caressing her hips….
The intruder lifted the night mask, revealing Chloe’s eyes reddened by crying.
“Well, we’ve only done a short fifteen minutes. Are you determined to give me that famous code on the first try?”
She nodded vigorously.
“I’m warning you, big girl: if I suspect even an attempt to call for help, we’ll go back for another hour of torment! Is that understood?”
Its undone gag, chloe tried to move its jaw to relax its cheeks, tired by the prolonged stay of the heap of lingerie.
She did not have time of it, the burglar giving him the cleave-gag which she had at the beginning of the evening. It was a smart choice: the latter allowed for some tough talk, but just what the burglar needed to figure out the infamous PIN code.
“So honey, I’m waiting.”
“Dichette Chinquante Chinq,” Chloe tried to articulate.
The unmistakable sound of an iPhone unlocking was heard.
“I thank you for your cooperation dear.”
But just as Chloe thought her ordeal was over, the burglar put down the phone, removed the bandanas and finally put the three dirty panties back in her mouth. Poor Chloe closed her mouth as hard as she could, but it was all in vain.
The whole thing was once again secured with the same Hermes scarf.
“Remember when I told you I would spare you another hour of torture if you were cooperative?”
Chloe guessed what was coming next, and instantly gave an energetic no with her head. Her despair constituting an exquisite pleasure for her jailer, the latter waited for long seconds, that she exhausted her forces to continue her sentence.
“… Well I lied.”
The glance of Chloe had become supplicant.
“You see that camera?” Said the intruder, pointing to the object she had put on the dresser earlier in the evening.
“Well I’ve got good news, there’s over an hour of video left on it, and I can guarantee we’ll enjoy it! You know there are plenty of people who are fans of this kind of video, especially with a prominent person like you! But don’t worry, our privacy will be partially respected. I will cut the camera for some of the torture, too secret for me to expose even a small group of viewers.”
After these few words, the burglar put back the night mask of Chloe and obstructed again his nostrils. He had nothing during long minutes, so much so that Chloe wondered if this history of hour of torture was not nothing more than a last psychological torment that his jailer imposed to him.
But after about ten minutes of peace, she felt a furtive caress. Then a new one. Then a hand took firmly hold of her ankle and began to tickle the sole of her feet, giving the kick-off of the sinister and long punishment…
The rest of the sadistic burglar
One Hour later
The handheld camera had begun to display a flashing red light, indicating that it would soon run out of battery. It was time for Zula to pack up.
She took care to pack all the accessories she had been asked to carry in airtight plastic bags: scarves, boots, sneakers, freshly worn socks. Her customers were connoisseurs and it was out of the question to lose the slightest scent of these precious clothes.
When he was finished, Zula took out a syringe and a bottle of the drug.
The injection startled poor Chloe, who was still blind, into a deep sleep. She untied her, then put the used pieces of tape and the camera in her bag.
The drug, in addition to putting her to sleep, was going to remove all memory of the evening. An empty champagne bottle and two glasses of champagne in the room would provide a perfect explanation for the mess in the apartment and for her headache.
A brand new mission
A few hours later, Zula was sitting in the luxurious bar of a hotel in the Place de la Concorde. She had chosen it as a meeting place for her buyers, all of whom she had met on the Dark-net and paid several dozen Bitcoin for each accessory.
Of course, Zula had kept her black skinny jeans and her perfecto. No question of dressing sexy despite the environment. Knowing the morality of her clients, she would soon find herself in the trunk of a car, headed for who knows what secret torture chamber where she would spend the rest of her life.
It was 5 p.m. when her last client passed by. Her last client.
She was accompanied by what appeared to be a bodyguard.
“It’s rare that my clients are women.”
“I’m just a middleman,” the young woman replied, before moving on, “Can we see the goods?”
Zula passed her the pair of boots neatly wrapped in an airtight bag.
“Brutus, heel! ” the young woman said curtly.
The guard complied by getting down on all fours at the foot of the bar where the two women were standing. The middleman opened the bag and carefully took out one of the boots.
“What do you think Brutus? What is your expert opinion?”
The man looked at the boot in question from every angle, licked it and finally gently felt its interior. The comedy of the scene, in the lobby of a large Parisian hotel, was beginning to bring more than a smile to Zula’s face.
“But do not hesitate to laugh in front of him, this little whore needs to know how ridiculous she is, giving herself in spectacle of the kind!”.
She marked a few seconds before addressing her bodyguard-submissive again, “So?”
“Real leather, having walked in many places, worn regularly, often with tights, sometimes with wool socks. It is certainly a quality product, Mistress.”
“Good,” exclaimed the middleman. “Before we part ways, I have a new assignment for you, Miss Zula.”
“You know, I was planning to take a vacation.”
“It would involve a kidnapping. Of two people. A man and a woman. Very well paid.”
Zula pondered.
“I’ll agree to hear more if you buy me a drink.”
“I’ll ask the waiter to prepare a table for us for dinner. I absolutely must tell you what I plan to do with this adorable little couple. I know you enjoy long and painful things my dear Zula. You will love it.”
The End
( till next kidnapping )
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