Forty Thousand or Bust

Confused, she watched as he took an interest in the candle stand on the windowsill, picking it up in his hands and inspecting it.

"I'm sorry." She said, thinking he was about to light the candles and depart. "Please. You can't leave me like this all night."

Without speaking he tied rope around the candle stand with some intricate knot work and placed it back in the window again, leaving the remainder of the rope hanging down from the very centre.

That was when things started getting weird. He made her demonstrate to him that she could use her teeth to untie the first leather knot from the bed frame next to her right hand.

By pulling her head over towards her right hand, she bit at part of the knot of her leather bindings and began loosening it, still unsure if showing him that she could do this was actually a good idea.

"Ok." He said and retightened the knot again.

"Too easy!" He said, picking up and pouring her jug of water slowly over all the bindings, to make it much harder for her to work them loose with her teeth.

He picked up the candle stand with the attached rope and by stepping on the bed he reached up and tied the rope to the roof beam in a position over the middle of the bed, above the top of her thighs and bottom of her corset.

His earlier rope work around the candle stand was such that it held the candles and the stand in a horizontal position where it swung down from the beam above.

With the small hem of the leather skirt still folded up, he could no longer resist. He gently caressed her curves then kissed the smooth skin of one of her exposed arse cheeks before lighting the three candles and setting them off swinging with a slight twist and gentle push in line with her body.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!!!" she shouted, twisting her head around to see the first few drops of hot wax drip down onto her bare flesh. "AAAHHHHH."

He exited the cell, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving her alone to undergo his punishment for what he believed was an attempt by her to seduce him.

The drips came down fast and random, landing on her flesh in spots from the top of her bare arse cheeks, down to the upper half of her thighs where the candles swung in their pendulum motion.

This caused her to scream and struggle wildly, trying to get her body out of the way but her knees were tied too strictly together and at equal distances from ether side of the bed in the middle.

Thrashing and pulling against her bonds wasn't allowing any movement side to side for her to avoid any of the hot wax shower from above.

Remembering how the gunman had told her to demonstrate the way to free herself, she quickly got to work with her teeth on the wet bindings.

Time was of the essence as she frantically picked away at the swollen soaking leather straps with her mouth whilst making as much noise as possible, not only in protest but also to take her mind off the pain of the hot wax raining down on her.

It had only taken a couple minutes to tie her wrists to the bedframe with the advantage of two hands but untying the gunman's lashings to free herself would take her almost an hour.

The hot wax continued to drip at a rate of three drops every second; that's one drop per second from each of the candles.

Being red wax meant that it melted at a higher temperature compared to normal clear paraffin candles making her punishment twice as bad.

Some of the drops landed on top of and in between hardened already cooled spots, eventually causing a layer of wax to build up almost completely covering that area of skin before the candles burned out.

Even though they had now extinguished she still began a continual verbal stream of swearing and cursing out loud as soon as her teeth had freed her left wrist and she could use her mouth for shouting again.

Having her first hand free meant that she could now use her fingers to quickly undo the final knot from the bedframe and release her right hand.

When she bent her upper body down the mattress to free the rope from the side of the middle of the bed frame holding her knees, the layer of cool wax remained rigid. It peeled away from her skin leaving a perfect mould of her curvature on the bed behind her. Under artistic circumstances, the wax impression of this beautiful model's rear end would be worth a fortune but not to Lucie.

She untied her knees then sat up on the bed and reached down with her hands where luckily the limit of the collar chain allowed her to release her ankles from the frame at the bottom.

Pissed off with knocking into the candle stand swinging horizontally from above, she untied the intricate rope work from around it and threw it across the room. In a further act of rebellious aggression she crumbled up the wax mould of her own rear end and threw that too, scattering the potential masterpiece into small chunks all over the floor.

Standing up, she rubbed the skin of her upper thighs and arse cheeks where the hot wax had landed. It didn't hurt as much as she'd expected. Surprisingly to her it felt like nothing more than a mild sunburn.

After an hour of calming down, she tied the rope hanging down from the ceiling out of the way above the mattress so that she could lay down and sleep.

The next morning the same woman brought her the usual welcome plate of food, picked up the candle stand, replaced the candles and stood them in the window, never questioning how the stand ended up on the floor.

Without uttering a word the lady collected the previous night's crockery and simply disappeared out through the door.

Shortly after eating the gunman and the fat tailor appeared and unlocked her chain from the wall. It was obvious what they were talking about as they walked around her, both looking for evidence of where the wax had landed and checking for any drips on the leather bodysuit.

"Come." The gunman said.

Having already dignified herself by folding down the leather skirt and fastening her crotch strap, she now carried the weight of the six foot chain in front of her, in her hands.

She walked in front of the two men who guided her in the direction away from the village and towards a clear running stream where the tailor presented Lucie with a bar of soap and told her to wash.

Slowly she entered the water with heavy breaths, getting her body accustomed to the cold temperature as she waded in up to her knees.

The two men spoke to her in their native language but she couldn't understand what they were saying so she simply washed her legs with the soap before looking back at them.

Not wanting to get themselves wet the tailor beckoned Lucie back onto the dry land, taking the soap from her when she stepped out of the water.

With her standing at the edge of the stream the tailor bent down and dipped the soap into the water then brought it back up and rubbed it on the leather of her bodysuit under her left arm.

"Here." He said, then rubbed the soap bar up and down all over the front of her body, leaving white soapy marks on the light tan leather as he did. "Here." He repeated.

After wetting the soap again he rubbed it over the bare skin of her arms, repeating "Here. Here." As he did. He finally wiped soap on her forehead and in her hair saying "Here." Again wherever he touched her.

The soap was then handed back to Lucie with a pointing gesture for her to return to the water where she now understood that she must wash herself and her leather corset bodysuit as well as her hair and face.

The water felt really cold each time she submerged herself being careful not to allow her collar chain to snag on anything on the bed of the stream as she rinsed herself clean.

Now dripping wet and without a towel, she emerged from the stream with one hand pulling the water from her hair and the other hand carrying the chain.

The water temperature wasn't a problem any more as the mid morning sun warmed the day and she was left to drip dry, rubbing the water from her legs before putting her footwear back on.

They headed back to the village but stopped near where the leather hides were being hung out to have a conversation with a man she had not yet met.

The fat tailor touched the damp curves of her corset then he forcefully lead her by the collar into a clearing in the centre of the village as if he had to prove a point to someone. There he locked her chain to a ring at the top of a sturdy looking wooden post that had been dug deep into the ground years earlier.

"You dry here." The tailor told her before walking away.

The sun now blazed above her, standing on show in the village centre.

This blond haired potential model turned thief, stood with her skinny long legs and tight corseted body suit on display, in disgrace, chained like an animal for all to judge.

What was this place? She thought, testing the extremities of her neck restraint by bending her legs down into a squat. It was impossible for her to hide herself from the prying eyes of the on looking villagers as individual groups stared and talked about what her future held for her.

Soon after, a woman she had never seen before approached her with a hair brush. "You must look right for Mr Taquan." She said in quite good English. "He see you this afternoon."

"What is Mr Taquan going to do to me?" Lucie asked.

"You his whore now." She replied.

Lucie was shocked and stood still holding the brush as the woman walked away, leaving her alone again in the now sun scorched village centre.

The fat tailor periodically approached her with drinking water and kept spraying the damp leather with some sort of alcohol.

"This will dry more." He explained, meaning the evaporating alcohol would assist the drying process of the leather.

What he failed to tell her was that at the same time as the leather dries in the sun it will shrink, constricting it tighter around her body.

Later in the afternoon when her skin was beginning to burn, the bald man who had fitted the collar around her neck approached her carrying a chain attached to what looked like a set of manacles in his hands.

He unlocked her collar chain from the post.

"Come." He told her. "We see Mr Taquan."

He let her carry the weight of the collar chain herself as they walked out of the village along an up hill track towards a prominent glass fronted building protruding from the hillside.

He stopped for a moment in front of her and held up the shiny metal manacles. Lucie was surprised at how thick they were but she had no doubts that the diameter inside the open clasps had been designed and sized exactly for encircling her wrists by this horrible bald man in his workshop.

She remained expressionless as he rubbed the familiar small, welded closed, release flap of the airplane seatbelt buckles like the one he'd demonstrated on her collar.

"Fastened." He said with the shitty smile on his face, making sure not to fully close the cuff he was holding.

"No adjusted." He reminded her. "And no unfastened." "Ha ha ha." He laughed just like the perverted ugly man that she thought he was.

This caused her to shiver but the fact that she wasn't wearing them already seemed a promising sign she thought. Maybe if she did as she was told then she would be able to avoid having to wear them.

Mr Taquan stood waiting at the open door as they arrived.

"Come in." He said, guiding them both through the hallway in to a brightly lit room with lots of glass windows overlooking the hillside.

The cartel leader couldn't hide his look of excitement but had to keep his cool.

"We have another one." He said.

Not understanding his comment, Lucie remained silent.

"Who are you working with?" he asked, standing in front of her.

"No one." She replied.

He immediately slapped her across her face, knocking her sideways and leaving a ringing in her ear.

Opening up his phone he showed her a picture of a man with a bullet hole in his forehead.

"Recognise him?" he asked.

This was now serious she thought.

He scrolled through his phone and showed her another picture of a dead man.

"Or him?" he asked.

"No." she replied, now crying.

Mr Taquan took hold of the cuffs and held them in front of her face.

He scrolled further and showed her a picture of an Indonesian woman who was alive and sitting on a bed wearing similar cuffs to the ones he was holding up and wearing a similar but slightly darker bodysuit to hers.

"No." she told him.

"You're lying." he said, handing the set of manacles over to her. "Put these on."

"You don't need to use those on me." She replied. "I'll do as you say."

He put his phone in his pocket.

SLAP.

He hit her around the head again, almost knocking her over this time.

"PUT THE FUCKING CUFFS ON!" He shouted.

Shaking, she held one of the cuffs in her hand, letting the other dangle down open on the other end of the chain.

"We don't need to do this." She pleaded, knowing that once it was on, it wasn't coming off.

He held up his hand, threatening to slap her again.

She cried and quickly pressed the metal cuff against her left wrist.

She paused and looked into Mr Taquan's eyes.

"Go on." He said. "Close it."

She reluctantly clicked the cuff shut around her wrist, slightly hoping that she would be able to talk him out of making her lock the other one on.

"The sooner you get used to it, the easier it will be for you." He said. "These cuffs are going to become part of you."

She twisted her wrist around, testing the limits of her new bracelet, realising immediately that there was no way of pulling her hand through the hole that the two metal curves had just locked onto her.

"Now. Who are you working with?" he asked, holding his phone in front of her face.

"I'm on holiday." She told him. "I'm not working with anybody."

As Mr Taquan reached out to grab hold of the free cuff swinging from her wrist at the end of the twelve inch chain, she snatched it away from him and stepped back.

It was at this point that the panic hit home and she lost all control of her mouth, allowing it to freely run away with itself.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" she screamed. "IF I CALL THE POLICE YOU'LL ALL GO DOWN FOR THIS." "THIS IS KIDNAP!"

Mr Taquan signalled to the bald man by nodding his head.

"You had the option of cuffing yourself with your hands in front. However since you threaten me and continue to lie to me, I don't trust you." Taquan said. "So now you will now have your hands cuffed behind your back as punishment."

The bald man and Mr Taquan both quickly grabbed hold of an arm each and twisted them behind her back as she screamed out.

"Please! No." she begged. "I'll do anything you want." "Please can I keep my hands in front?"

Taquan ignored her pleading and simply worked the two halves of the remaining open cuff through the 'D' ring embedded in the back of her bodysuit.

It was pointless fighting them but she kicked out at them anyway, continually begging and screaming as she did. Her noise and leg kicks did no good against the advantage these two captors had over her.

She felt the second cuff close around her right wrist.

"Just remember" Mr Taquan said. "If anybody ever asks what the last thing you did with your free hands was, you'll be able to tell them that you put one of these cuffs on yourself. They will like that and see you as a keen little whore, desperate to be used."

There was a quiet 'Click' from the second cuff which rang incredibly loud in her ears above all the noise of all her pleading and protesting.

Her shouting changed to crying in despair when she was able to pull on her cuffs, confirming that her freedom had been further diminished as soon as the two men let go of her.

The twelve inches of chain between the cuffs allowed her to inspect the manacle around her right wrist first by pulling the chain through the 'D' ring to her side. She then turned her head, knowing exactly what to expect when she pulled the chain the other way, looking at her other hand that she had previously restrained herself.

Both men took position over by the only door out of the room and watched as she tried to find a place of safety against one of the walls.

"This is only the beginning of your nightmare." Taquan told her. "If you want to make things easy, then you'd better start talking." He said but was broken off as his phone began to ring.

He turned away when he saw who the caller was.

"Gooday Mr Doug." He said. "Are you here yet?"

The room remained in silence as he listened to the other end of the conversation.

"I'll send someone now." He said then hung up the phone.

Speaking in his local language he sent the bald man on his way, leaving Mr Taquan and Lucie alone in the room.

"ANYBODY!" he shouted. "ANYBODY WHO STEALS FROM ME DIES!" "Unless that is." "Unless I can make use of them."

She looked at him with full concentration.

"You now work for me." "Understand?"

Lucie nodded her head.

"I only stole a little from you. I was on a catamaran trip to the deserted island of Pulau Nuyanat and I only took a little for the after party back on Yamdena island." "I'm sorry." She told him.

"This is not Nuyanat." He told her. "You are on my island in Selaru." "Where are you from?"

"England." She replied.

The cash bells sounded in his head.

"Come here." He said, pulling on the chain attached to her collar.

She stood in the middle of the room scared of the whole situation, willing to do anything to avoid being hurt again.

First he unfastened the crotch strap from the buckle then flipped down the leather cups covering her tits. By lifting each breast over the folded down leather, he hung them out so that he could thoroughly inspect them, knowing that she wouldn't be able to reach up and do anything to stop him.

Walking behind her he lifted up the hem from around her hips, revealing all of her arse and everything below her waist, tucking the crotch strap through the 'D' ring out of the way.

Looing down he gently felt with both his hands over the curves of her soft arse cheeks. The hot wax had left no obvious evidence and so he had no idea of her punishment the night before.

"Of course I'll be the first one to fuck you after you have been trained." He said.

Lucie was shocked and scared stiff.

"You will earn me a lot of money." He bragged. "But not today. I have business to attend to."

He folded the leather hem back down, covering the top half of her arse then covered her tits back up again.

"Go and take a shit before I close this." He said, touching the trailing belt of the crotch strap hanging out of the 'D' ring.

This is exactly what I need she thought, it would also buy her a little more normal thinking time alone.

He guided her by her shoulders towards the bathroom where she nervously emptied herself, staying on the toilet for as long as possible and away from the despicable man on the other side of the door.

She could hear him on the telephone as she wiped herself clean and checked out any possible escape routes. There were none. The window was too high for her to climb out of with her hands cuffed behind her back and he would see her as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom door if she made a run for it.

She stayed in the bathroom for as long as she could, giving her some distance from the reality of her situation.

There was a new voice.

"Wanny." Boomed an Australian man, referring to Mr Taquan, as she heard the door open.

"Dougie." Taquan replied.

She could hear the two talking like old acquaintances as she happily sat on the edge of the bath listening, wondering how long before this little tranquillity would be taken from her.

Eventually their voices raised as they argued over something.

Lucie looked to her side checking her cuffs for any signs of being able to get them open. The welds on the locking mechanism were smooth and without any gaps at all. She sat on the floor and savoured every second of being alone, scared about the inevitable of being raped by Taquan or having a bullet through her head like the pictures he had shown her.