Dawn Meadows

The Shipping Yard Sleuth (8 of 8)

Added 2022-02-27 15:00:05 +0000 UTC

The first sensation you feel is movement, a slight swaying, as if you were playing from the monkey bars like when you were a kid.

Your normally clear gray eyes are hazy from the drugs. Now they are half open, as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

You try to move a lithe, quick hand to rub your eyes, but feel a pinching pressure in your wrists. The pressure intensifies as you pull, and you give a moan of pain.

It feels as though there's something in your mouth, because it is dry and you can't move your tongue.

What the hell? you think. Your eyes open a little more, and your predicament is more fully on display. You've been tied up, literally swinging from a beam by your wrists. A huge, greasy, oily rag has been crammed into your mouth, with another pulled taught and tied at the nape of your neck, preventing you from spitting it out.

But oh how your arms ache! Sinews stretch, girlish muscles unused to such extremes scream out in pain.

"....hhhlllllmmpppphhhmmmm…." your own grunt surprises you, with how quiet it is.

No one can hear me, you realize.

You try to raise your feet, only to see them bound at the ankles, pantyhose toes glistening in the low morning light. Could you untie your wrist ropes if you lifted your feet up to them?

Not while encased in pantyhose. Not a chance. And you cannot get said pantyhose off, because of the ropes. Besides, you did not go with thigh highs today.

Stupid!

".....hhhhlllmmmmpppphhh!..." you mewl helplessly.

Your arms are burning, throbbing with the full, although slender, weight of an eighteen year old girl trying to outperform Houdini.

You glance to your right, eyes momentarily widening as you see two initials scratched into the container wall.

AJ and DM

You know those! Your drugged calm gives way to panic as adrenaline kicks in and you thrash about. But the crook did his job well, and the knots hold.

THE END