Molly's Story Ch. 03: Mexico Bound

Molly's Stories 3. Mexico Bound

Molly and Stephen and their story-telling were introduced in "The Professor series," but they continued to write stories and share them with one another. Molly's stories will appear in the BDSM category, while Stephen's better fit under Romance. Molly's tale of Annie and Joseph began in The Professor Day 10.

"Are you glad we came here?" Stephen and Molly were relaxing over drinks in a cabana, on St. Croix.

"Of course," Stephen replied. "Are you thinking of somewhere else."

"It's lovely. There is no better place to honeymoon. But I was thinking about Mexico. I read a story online . . ."

"Oh, no. You have that look in your eye. Have you been writing again?"

"Guilty."

Mexico Bound

Annie met Joseph at the Garden House for lunch. She ate there most days but never knew whether he was going to show. The unpredictability of their encounters was odd, but it had been part of their routine from the start and she knew better than to change that.

Today as she met him for lunch, however, he seemed a bit preoccupied. That was not unusual. She had learned to accept his moods.

"There's a new exhibit at the Art Center," Annie began.

"Mmm."

"They are showing 20^th century Mexican artists."

"Un-huh." He was consulting his pocket calendar.

"I think they've got some Frieda Kahlo paintings."

No response. He was scribbling a memo to himself.

"I had planned to go out of town, but I might be persuaded to see the show." She paused now waiting for a response.

"What's that? Sounds great, but I have a trip myself. Where are you going?"

Her hopes fell. "I told you last week I am planning to visit my old roommate in Ireland. I bought a ticket, renewed my passport, and everything." She pulled her passport out of her purse for emphasis. "But this morning she called to say her kids are sick and this isn't a good time to visit. I had to turn the ticket in. Would you believe they charged me a $200 restocking fee?" The ticket was only $400. I got it at a good deal." She had lost his attention again. "So I thought looking at some Mexican art sounded better than nothing."

"I hoped you could join me." She was getting frustrated. "There are supposed to be some nudes. And photographs of dinosaurs. And kidnapped virgins."

Joseph looked up. "What did you say?"

Annie sighed. "Forget it. You have to be out of town."

"Something about dinosaurs?"

"So you were listening with maybe two percent of your brain?"

"I'm sorry. And something about kidnapping?"

"Maybe four percent. Sorry, I'm joking. Didn't you see that story in the paper last week about a California girl claiming she had been kidnapped and smuggled to Mexico by white slavers?"

"I must have missed that one."

"Honestly. It's hard enough to smuggle a joint across the border. How do you smuggle an uncooperative person?"

"I'm sure it just takes a bit of ingenuity. They probably walked her right under the noses of the immigration officials."

This couldn't really have happened, could it? White slavery sounds like something out of pulp fiction."

"Sex trafficking is a major international problem."

"All you would have to do is tell your customer you were kidnapped."

"Perhaps, unless you are scared. Or they didn't speak English. Or they really didn't want to know."

"Do they really do that?"

"Do what?"

"Kidnap women and force them into sex?"

"Men have been doing that since the beginning of time." Her eyes grew wider. Her hand sought out his on the table. "Haven't you seen the caveman movies where the guy hits the lady over the head with a club and drags her home by the hair?"

"Oh, you. You're making fun of me. I was only saying it's hard to believe girls are being smuggled the wrong way across the border."

"And I'm only saying it would not be difficult."

"Don't be ridiculous." She stopped smiling. "You're serious."

"Only that it would be possible."

"If you can do it, I will be your white slave." She said teasingly. Then she kicked herself for being so obvious.

"Careful what you wish for."

"Of course, you would have to put up something in return. Maybe you could be my gigolo." She expected him to laugh, but he was looking at her intensely.

Finally, he responded. "Whatever. I would be happy if you took me to dinner," he said dismissively. Before she could seize on that comment he changed the subject. "How long were you going to spend in Ireland?"

"I had planned to take the week. I asked Judy to cover the shop starting tomorrow."

"Judy's OK with that?"

"She is champing at the bit. I didn't have the heart to tell her of my change of plans. Since you are not available I will just lay low in my apartment."

By now they had both finished eating and the lunch hour was nearly over. Making polite good-byes and vague wishes to have lunch together soon, they parted. Annie was frustrated. She had been prepared to be assertive in this relationship and pretty much laid herself out there, but her resolve had wilted when he had other plans. It sounded too much like a rejection. She didn't even know where he had to go. Should she have invited herself along? Too late now.

She tried to busy herself with her work that evening, but her heart wasn't in it. She put away her drawings.

At 6:00 Annie closed her shop and began locking up. It was already getting dark. The displays were removed from the window and placed in the vault along with her receipts for the day. Since she would not be coming back for a week, she looked around the store office for personal items that needed to go home. She threw out some leftovers stored in the mini-refrigerator and gathered together her extra outfit, a raincoat from yesterday, purse, and keys. Oh, yes. The suitcase. She had brought the suitcase with her to the shop before she had had to cancel. She put everything down, propped open the door to the back, and took the suitcase out to the car.

She had just stepped back into the office to get her purse when the lights went out. Before she could react, a cloth dropped over her head, blocking her vision. Strong arms grabbed her wrists and forced them behind her, at the same time pushing her forward against a workbench. Annie knew she was overpowered and only gave a token resistance as handcuffs were placed on her wrists. She was pushed into a chair. When a light diffused through her hood, she knew the intruder had flipped the switch. Now he could see but she couldn't. As she felt a hand begin to grope for her mouth, she bit hard, but did not get a finger, only something like a pencil. As she opened her mouth, a cloth was drawn tightly between her lips pulling the hood inside her mouth. It was tied off tightly as an effective gag.

Pushing her forward in the chair, the man removed the handcuffs and tied her wrists with a rope. This was tighter, but more comfortable than the metal and was not cutting into her wrists. For a moment she heard him rummaging around the office. Her car keys fell to the floor with a clink. She wondered what she would do when he asked her the combination to the safe. What would he do to her if she refused? She took a deep breath to calm herself. She had rehearsed this situation many times in her mind and talked it over with her insurance company. Be calm. It is only a robbery. The police and her insurance company will handle it. Don't fight. Don't resist.

The light went out. He took hold of her shoulders and began walking her across the office. The door was opened and she felt the cooler night air. They were outside. She heard the sound of a van door sliding open and she was lifted into a seat. The seat belt was buckled. She felt a rope coiling tightly around her ankles. Why wasn't he stealing the jewelry? It hit her, he is interested in me. Until now she had told herself to be calm. Now the situation was very different. She was being kidnapped. The kidnapper didn't seem interested in the jewelry. If only I had fought harder If only I had screamed when I had the chance, maybe someone would have heard me. As it was, she couldn't do anything but wait passively.

Eventually the van stopped. The driver got out and opened her door. He carried her inside and sat her on what felt like a padded table. He attached cuffs to her ankles and wrists that were chained to the bed. She could move, but not reach her body. After a moment he removed the hood. The room was dark, she could see only a shadow as he left the room.

She lost track of the time that passed and fell asleep.

It must have been hours later that she awoke. He was fastening straps across her waist, arms, and shoulders. She could move nothing but her head. After a few moments, he removed her gag and turned on some bright overhead lights. She was blinded and instinctively closed her eyes. Straining to open one eye, she saw only that he was dressed in black and wore a mask. Was he going to operate on her? She felt she was in the clutches of a mad scientist.

"What do you want from me?"

His only answer was to place a finger on her mouth to silence her.

She lay back and closed her eyes to the glare. He began fussing with her hair, gathering it behind her head and pinning it in place. He fitted something over it. A net? A bathing cap? She felt him tape the edges of the covering onto her skin. Then he slid a firm cushion under her head that made it very difficult to move even that.

Next, he approached with a paintbrush be spread a cool liquid on her forehead. "What are you doing?" He pinched her lips together this time and held them until she relaxed. The brushing resumed. He was painting something all over her face. She tried to shake her head, but he held it forcefully until she relaxed. Whatever he wanted, she was powerless to resist. He continued brushing until he had covered her entire face. When he got to her eyes, he indicated with a slight touch for her to close them. The same with her mouth. The substance didn't hurt, but it felt funny. A while later he started again. This time she could scarcely feel the brush any more. It continued for a long time. He must have put at least four coats on before he left her alone.

She had nearly fallen asleep when he began fussing once again. Working at the top of her face, he began to peel away whatever he had painted on and her skin was free to breathe again. The lights went out and she heard him walking away.

She awakened some time later to feel him unfastening her slacks. He legs were now free and he had taken her shoes off, but her upper body was still bound. The light was dim, coming from outside the room. Here it comes. She braced herself for his assault. When she was down to her panties in the lower half of her body, he removed the straps and helped her up. He lifted her off the table and set her on her feet. Silently he ushered her to a bathroom and closed the door.

His purpose was clear. She suddenly realized how badly she needed to relieve herself and was grateful for the consideration. When she had finished, she opened the door. He was standing on the other side and immediately took her shoulders and guided her to the table. There he had laid out some clothing for her. He handed her an adult diaper. It made no sense, but she was too frightened and disoriented to disobey. She removed her panties and put it on.

He indicated a simple T-shirt on the table. She slipped off her silk blouse and put it on, then turned to him. She hoped that if she showed such cooperation, he would treat her kindly. He next held out a sort of jacket in front of her, inviting her to put her arms in it. She half turned to put her right hand in the right side of it, but he shifted, indicating she should put it in the left side. She was puzzled and decided it must fasten in the back. Continuing to be ostentatiously cooperative, she put out both hands and let him pull the jacket on her and zip the back. He then began pulling laces to tighten it firmly around her body. She scarcely noticed because she was puzzled by the heaviness of the fabric and was struggling to pull the sleeves all the way up. He finished in back and then took the ends of her sleeves. By this time, she realized there were no openings for her hands. He pulled her arms across the front of her body, as though she were hugging herself. He buckled the sleeves together behind her back and Annie found herself in a straightjacket. A strap in the back was brought between her legs and fastened in front. While not uncomfortable, the bondage was complete and secure.

"What are you . . ." she began, but he put his hand over her mouth until she calmed down. She no longer knew whether to be afraid or not. In the short term he was gentle. But where was this going?

The man dressed her in the rest of the clothes - a full skirt of mid-calf length, and knee socks, and ugly orthopedic shoes. In the dim light, she could not discern the colors, but they appeared bland. At least she felt less exposed to her captor.

He lifted her back on the table and turned the bright lights on, again making it hard for her to see. He placed a mannequin head next to her. Standing in front and looking back and forth between her face and the dummy, her proceeded to paint it and apply makeup. She was so fascinated by his mysterious behavior that she momentarily forgot her predicament. At length he decided his work was good enough and brought over a mirror for her to admire it also. As he held it up, she saw two faces side by side, nearly identical. They were both her, but only one of them moved. This was the first time she had seen herself in a mirror since she was taken, and she was shocked to see that her hair had disappeared under the cap. She appeared as bald as the head beside her.

She was totally bewildered now, but the night was getting stranger. Leaving her sitting on the table, the man opened a box and extracted two prosthetic arms. These he strapped onto her shoulders in place of the two helplessly bound in the straightjacket. He added a cheap and shapeless pullover sweater with a few rhinestones around the collar. When he arranged the artificial hands in her lap, she almost looked normal.

He was not done with his surprises. He brought out a foam ball and scrunched it in his palm. With the other hand he pressed on her chin and when she obediently opened her mouth, he stuffed the ball in. In her fascination, this caught her completely by surprise. She had forgotten she was bound and now she was gagged, too. She tried to open her mouth, but the ball expanded to fill it. She shook her head back and forth to dislodge it, but it didn't do any good.

The man caught her head to hold it still while he began wrapping tape across her mouth and all around her head. A few strips of tape also encircled her head from the top to the chin and back up. She could no longer open her mouth. She tried to protest, but only unintelligible grunts came out. He didn't even try to silence those. She experimented. Her tongue was pressed onto the bottom of her mouth and her lips were immobilized. When she tried to speak, she could only make vague and difficult moaning sounds, and all the consonants were lost. She sounded a little like a deaf person. When he added sound dampening earplugs, she gave up.

The face on the dummy was lifted off and she could see that it was a latex mask. He must have molded that from her own face earlier in the evening. The man brushed some paste on her face and fitted the mask, touching up the edges with makeup so that they disappeared. Somehow, he had cut eyeholes so she could now see. He added a wig that looked scarily like her real hair to the point that Annie wondered if he had cut it off earlier.

The man picked Annie off the table, set her feet on the floor and walked her over to a wheelchair where she was made to sit down. He fastened a seatbelt around her lap. Then he lifted her skirt above her knees and fastened a black leather strap tightly around them. A second strap secured her legs just above the calves. When the skirt was put back into place, the straps disappeared.

He wheeled her back into the light and once again held up the mirror. What Annie saw was Annie sitting in a wheelchair with her hands calmly in her lap. All of the bonds that imprisoned and gagged her were invisible. Then he held up a picture beside her. It was her passport. Annie didn't know what this meant, but a wave of fear swept over her. She struggled and tried to cry out. If she could have seen herself at this moment, she would have thought she was looking at a person suffering from cerebral palsy or similar disorder, paralyzed and probably having a seizure.

Her captor wheeled her to the door and left her.

She must have dozed off. The next thing she knew it was growing light outside and her situation had not changed. She heard a car drive up - that must have been what awakened her. The man opened the door and she was looking at a van with taxi markings on it. At the last moment a hand reached from behind her and place a pair of wraparound sunglasses over her eyes. They were darkly tinted and she could only see vague shapes.

Now her wheelchair was being pushed to the curb. The driver came around and opened the side door. She tried to ask him to help her, but only meaningless noises came out that he ignored. The driver took over from there, maneuvering the chair until a lift brought it in to the van to be anchored in place. Annie could hear her captor placing something in the van behind her, but could not see him.

As the taxi drove away, she tried to think of some way of communicating her situation, but came up with nothing. When it stopped, the driver unloaded the wheelchair and someone - presumably her captor, wheeled it away. They passed through a crowd into a large building where she heard a familiar announcement over a loudspeaker. The airport! Over the next hour she was taken through the routine: waiting with the luggage while he checked in at the ticket counter; passing down a long corridor on the concourse; waiting endlessly at the gate. She could hear boarding calls for several destinations at nearby gates - Orlando, Los Angeles, Acapulco, Houston, Minneapolis - but she had no idea where she was headed.

Why didn't anyone come to help her. In her mind she must have looked very conspicuous with all the bondage on. Are they blind? Of course not. The bondage is only apparent to me. I must look normal on the outside. And no one likes to stare at a cripple.

Now her chair was moving. It proceeded onto the plane and she realized that as a "handicapped" person she was boarding early. A stewardess tried to help, but the man declined. He lifted her from her chair and placed her into a roomy seat next to the window, buckling her in and discretely placing her "hands" in her lap. The straps still held her legs together. Her earplugs didn't stop sounds altogether, but she had difficulty understanding what people were saying. She realized the man beside her was having a conversation with the stewardess. She strained to make out a few words.

"It's such a shame. She is a beautiful woman," she was saying.

"You should have known her before the stroke. She had a great love of life. I think she can still enjoy new experiences, but she can't control her body. Don't be alarmed if she has a small seizure. It happens pretty often."

"The poor thing. Can I get you two something to drink?"

"I'll take a whiskey, but she shouldn't have anything. I have to be careful about her medications and . . . well it would be easier not to worry about her bladder while we are traveling, if you know what I mean."

"Certainly, Sir."

"Perhaps she could use a blanket."

"Right away."

The rest of the flight was a nightmare. She was talked about as an incontinent retard and looked to all the world like one. Drowsy from the broken sleep, she drifted in and out and became alert only when she felt the wheels touch down. They waited in their seats until all the other passengers had deplaned. Then the man lifted her into the wheelchair. As they entered the concourse she heard an accented voice say, "Welcome to Mexico."