The Banker's Wife Ch. 01

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A hostage story.
5.5k words
4
83.3k
31

Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/11/2022
Created 09/28/2013
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SylviaG
SylviaG
1,389 Followers

I can't remember much about how I got here, I do remember the hand which grabbed me from behind. I didn't even have time to think about screaming, it was just so quick. The hand around my waist, and the one covering my mouth with some sort of cloth, seemed to belong to someone really big. I did struggle and fight as best I could, but whoever the man was, he was much stronger than me. I could feel his heavy breathing in my ear, and his grunts seemed to have such determination in them, reaching behind me and kicking at him just seemed a pathetic gesture.

He held me tight and walked a few paces back, and then twisted round. My feet didn't even touch the pavement. I was thrown onto a mattress in the back of a van. It all happened so quick, to quick to hope anyone had noticed. The guy shouted, "Go, go, go," and the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness, was the van door sliding forcibly into place, the screech of wheels on the tarmac, and a big black hand covering my mouth.

How long I was out for I don't know. I came round in a small room with no windows and just one solitary door. I was tied with my hands behind me, and my legs together, tied above my knees, and bound again lower down at my ankles. My throbbing head was still I suppose, hurting because of the foul smelling drug on the cloth. I flicked my head to get my hair out of my eyes, and wished I hadn't, a sharp pain stabbed through me. I pushed myself up and shuffled back against the headboard. Even that was a struggle and caused me to pant heavily.

My thought process hadn't really kicked in, by that I mean I was still dazed and very confused. All I knew was I had been kidnapped, and as I took a deep breath, I knew for those in my position, it was always a possibility.

Slowly I began to focus on my surroundings. There was no pillow on the stained mattress, and no covers. The room was dank, and faded green painted walls were bare in places down to the bricks, and this gave me an even bigger chill.

The ceiling was a dirty white, almost yellow, with plaster hanging down, and home to countless cobwebs. Looking to the foot of the bed was the door. It looked like it had been painted brown in the distant past. It had an old fashioned black door knob that looked liked it was askew to how it should have been. Next to it was a key hole, and that's when I started to feel tears in my eyes. My head slowly tipped back until it rested on the wall, and I stared at the bare light bulb until it hurt my eyes.

There wasn't a single sound, no traffic, no every day sounds which you think are annoying and try and blot out, and no way of knowing if it was night or day. I looked at the small table next to the bed, and the wooden chair, which looked just as old as the table, but it looked sturdy. I guess it was made some time ago, when the craftsmen took pride in their work, and didn't churn out the assembly line furniture they do now.

My bag was on the table, it was on its side. Some of the contents had spilled onto the floor. I don't suppose for one second my phone would be there. I leaned over to my left. And on the bare wooden floor I saw my lipstick, my mints, my bottle of sleeping pills, and my purse. The purse was open and all the credit cards, and my driving licence had gone, the purse was just an empty shell, a thought which chilled me again.

20 minutes later I heard foot steps on stairs, so I assumed I was upstairs. I cowered back against the headboard. My breathing which I tried to keep under control, now decided it wouldn't do that, panting and fear took over any actions or thoughts of remaining calm.

As the key went into the other side of the lock I was aware of how much I was trembling. I watched the door handle twist, in a sort of oval movement due to it being off centre, that's when I closed my eyes and prayed.

The door creaked open and light shone through from the other side, from a much more powerful light than in the room I was being held prisoner in. I saw the light being obstructed by a figure, and I pressed myself against the metal rails of the headboard, until I could feel each individual bar against my back.

Three figures moved in the room and surrounded the bed. My eyes shot from one to the other as they just stared down at me. I slowly curled my legs back, until they were tucked to my side. "How are you feeling, Mrs Summers?"

I gasped and my eyes shot to the one who spoke. I wanted to be brave and speak, but my trembling mouth wouldn't let any words out, so I just nodded, which was a little frantic, and full of fear in itself. All three men wore green overalls which looked brand new. They all wore shoes of the same sort, and they all wore full ski masks, with just holes for eyes and their mouths. The biggest one who had spoken and I guess he was the one who dragged me into the van, spoke again.

"Sylvia, isn't it?"

Again I nodded, still a little frantic, but not as much. I cringed back again as he sat on the bed. His big black hand reached out, and I cowered turning my head away from him, as if it would make him disappear. I shuddered slightly as he gently moved my hair from my face.

"Don't hurt me," came from my mouth, in a whimpering panicking tone.

"Shush, all you have to do is be a good girl, and cause us no problems. You do understand that, don't you?"

How could I tell him I would be good, enough to make him understand. I just nodded, and gulped, as he moved my hair off my face again.

"Good, now tomorrow, your husband is going to unlock the safe for us. He doesn't know it yet, in fact I doubt if he'll know you are missing until later. You haven't had a text from him, but you've had one from Jill, who is she?"

"She's, my, my friend."

"Okay, I sent her back a message, saying you are looking forward to the party she mentioned in the text. So, if hubby does as he's told, there is no reason to miss the party."

I nodded, only this time I was a little calmer. The party was in four days, and I was looking for anything to grab a lifeline out of this horrifying situation. My eyes flicked to the other two men, I think just to gain some reassurance that what the big black man was saying was true. They just looked down on me.

"Now, it's nearly 3 o'clock," the black guy nodded to the middle sized white man, "he'll be staying with you while we go and tell your husband what is going to happen, and when we get the money, tomorrow we'll tell him where he can find you."

He tipped his head as my expression changed.

"What is it Sylvia, why the worried look?"

"It's Saturday today, the bank isn't open tomorrow."

He laughed, and then so did the other two.

"No, what I mean is, the safe is...on a timer, it, it won't open until next week."

The three men shot looks at each other, and the silence between them seemed to be building to some sort of confrontation. The black man looked back at me. His hard brown eyes stared into mine through the ski mask.

"Are you telling me the fucking safe won't open until Monday?"

His words were calm, but the threatening tone of being let down was simmering underneath. My shaking had returned, how could they not have planned for this? And how would they take my next statement?

"It, it, it's a bank holiday, the timer won't release until, until..."

"Tuesday?" he growled.

I shook my head, "No...Wednesday."

I cowered as the three men started yelling at one another. The thin man paced up and down, and the middle sized man threw his fist against a wall. Eventually the big man calmed the other two down, but I knew they were still angry. The middle sized man lunged at me grabbing me hard by the shoulders. His face was inches from mine, and I could smell his fag stained breath until I turned away.

"Look, you better not be shitting us lady. Why the fuck is it not opening on Tuesday?"

"Because dumb ass Tuesday is a fucking holiday too," The thin man snapped.

I was thrown back against the headboard. The middle sized man pulled off the bed and spun round, "Well we burn the fucking thing open then," he snarled.

"We can't it's too fucking thick."

"Well we do it now then."

"Don't be an ass we'll never get there in time."

"Shut up...just shut the fuck up, and let me think......Sylvia, how do we override the timer?"

"You, you can't, the guy who designed it lives in south America....the bank doesn't know how to override the timer, you have to go through head office, and the police are informed."

"That's bullshit, what if there's a fire, and they have to get the money out quick?"

"My husband told me the walls are concrete and 4 feet thick, and they will withstand most fires."

"Oh no, I'm not having this, there must be some way to open the fucking thing. Anyway she doesn't work at the bank anymore, why the fuck would she know?"

"Shut up," the black guy growled at the middle sized man, "she used to work there as you said, so what she says maybe true."

"That's what we were told. My husband doesn't know how to get passed the timer. The only way is to phone the designer."

"Lady I'm getting sick of you. Let's just tell her husband we'll do her in if he doesn't open the fucking safe," the middle sized man said, as he took a step towards me.

"No, we wait until Wednesday."

More arguing went on, until the thin man and the middle sized man stormed out. The big black man sat on the bed again.

"You won't.....I mean...."

"Sylvia, I'll be checking that everything you've told me is true, and I can find out. So don't worry, nobody is going to kill you....unless what you have told me is a lie."

"I swear it's the truth, I wouldn't lie about it, I swear, please, please believe me."

"Calm down...now, someone will bring you some food later, just be a good girl. Oh and don't bother screaming, you're out in the country, and the nearest house is 6 miles away."

"I need to....pee, please."

"Okay, I'll get someone to take you to the loo."

The middle sized man came back in and untied me. Downstairs I could hear the thin man talking to the black guy. The thin guy sounded jumpy and nervous, and was obviously worried about the plan they had not working.

For the first time I tried to focus on what the middle sized guy looked like. He still had the green overalls on and the ski mask, but I could see a hint of bushy grey eyebrows, his teeth were stained slightly, and his lips looked a dull pink colour. There were age spots on the back of his hands, and as he untied me I could see he bit his finger nails. He was about 5' 5" tall, and the overall he was wearing bulged around his large stomach. Where the black guy was big he was well proportioned, but this guy, the oldest I think, was fat.

He grabbed my arm and marched me out of the room, across the wooden floorboard landing to the end. He opened a door and pushed me inside. I rubbed my wrist and looked back at him. He just stood there with his arms folded.

"Would, would you shut the, the door, please?" I stammered.

"Lady, just take a piss," he spat nastily in a northern accent.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and licked my lips nervously, "Well, could you turn your back?"

"Lady, I tied you up. Under that expensive grey suit you've got black stockings on, blue suspenders, and matching fancy blue knickers that cost more than I earn in a week. If I've got to baby sit you on and off for the next few days, just pray I don't get bored...now take a piss...before you wet yourself."

As I lifted my skirt he slowly turned away from me, chuckling. The thought of those men looking at me, looking at my underwear filled me with disgust. I'm used to guys leering at me, but those guys usually have control of themselves, and the ones I can't see can't get at me, because I'm usually behind glass.

I flushed the toilet and adjusted my skirt. Cursing myself for wearing one a little shorter than normal, but I had a reason to be wearing my best underwear, my sexiest stockings and my 4" high heels. Also in my bag, in the zip compartment was a pack of condoms. Earlier I could see the zip was closed, I don't think my captors bothered to look in it, well I'm pretty sure they didn't, if they had I would have been questioned not only about the condoms, but about a second mobile phone, which I've always kept on silent.

"Do you have to tie me up? I mean I can't get out, I won't give you any trouble, I swear."

The fat middle sized guy looked at me, "Sorry, but I'll have to....shoes on or off?"

"Off, please.....but I've got a bad shoulder. Could you cuff my hands in front of me, please?"

He thought for a moment, "Okay, I guess you can't do anything."

I watched him snap the cuffs on my wrists, "Thank you," I said, and then realised how ridiculous that sounded, thanking him for cuffing my hands in front of me.

His hands picked my left ankle from the bed, and slowly, perhaps too slowly, he pulled my shoe off.

"These are expensive," he mumbled, as he removed my right shoe.

I watched him staring at my shoes, and then back to my ankle, which he still had hold of. His fingers traced over the gold anklet underneath my stocking.

"These stockings are very fine too, good quality, my wife doesn't wear anything like these...hell she doesn't wear stockings, just tights. Does your old man like stockings?"

His rough hand travelled slowly up my calf, until I jerked my leg away. He laughed and then shook his head. In one quick motion he yanked my legs together and wound the rope round.

"There, all tied together....roll over on your side so I can get the other rope, you're lying on it."

I rolled over away from him and he pulled the rope out.

"Pease don't do, do that," I stuttered as his hand slowly caressed my backside.

I looked over my shoulder and watched him lick his lips through the opening in his ski mask, as he squeezed a handful of my ass, and massaged it a little. Slowly his hand drew away over my hip, and his fingers traced down the suspender strap hidden under my skirt. He chuckled, and then looked into my eyes, winked, and then chuckled again.

"Now put your hands up."

I watched him tie the rope through the cuffs and then up onto the bars. For one brief moment I had hope of managing to untie the rope at some point when it was quiet. That hope faded as he took the two ends, and then tied them down, presumably to the legs of the bed.

"You know, maybe I should have tied your legs apart," he chuckled dirtily and I winced and stiffened as hand rested on my knee.

He drew away and walked to the door. I just wanted him to leave so I could let out a huge sigh of relief.

He looked back to me, "Hey lady, relax, just pray my dick doesn't overrule my brain, or would you like that?"

For the first time I fought back with words back, "Go to hell."

He chuckled again, "That's not very nice. I bet your fans wouldn't like to hear that, although I guess, half of them only watch because they are hoping to get a glimpse up your skirt."

This time his laugh was full blown, probably because of the way my face screwed up at the thought of him leering up my skirt. The tears started to fall as his footsteps became fainter as he went down the stairs. I couldn't think of what he had done to me without feeling sick.

Last night I had spent ages in the bath, preparing myself for Duncan. I even fingered myself knowing that we would spend the afternoon in a hotel room.

I didn't plan to cheat on my husband, but when he lost interest in me sexually, having a young cute guy flirting with me became a thrill. Hence the condoms, the secret phone, and the sexy underwear, midnight blue panties, bra, and suspender belt, glossy black stockings and high heels, just the right thing for keeping a 20 year old guy interested in a 33 year old woman. A woman most people think is a little snobbish, I am I guess. I'm the wife of a bank manager, and as his wife I have to maintain certain standards. I know that sounds daft because I have cheated on him, but it only happened recently.

The middle sized man was right, the shoes and clothes I had on cost more than he makes in a week. Knowing a man like that has dared put his hands on me, and has seen up my skirt just adds to the disgust. If I passed him on the street I wouldn't give him a second glance, and that is with not knowing what he looks like. I'm used to getting leered at because of the men I entertain with my husband, as the bank manager's wife. So turning a blind eye, to the odd wandering hand, on my ass, or thigh, goes with the territory, My husband Neil knows it goes on, he told me about certain men, certain rich men, who I would do well to just ignore any such behaviour from them, as long as they didn't go too far. Some of them are good looking so it isn't that difficult, some of them were horrid drooling men, who try to embarrass me when my husband goes to the toilet in a fancy restaurant. I just put up with being told how nice and big my breasts are, or asked if I'd like a position in a guy's company.

One Arab gentleman and I use that term loosely, asked Neil and me on his yacht for a weekend. We went, and I spent the weekend fending him off, we still got the contract, even after he asked my husband, what price he would take for me. My husband told him where to go, and the Arab turned it into a joke, but I know the Arab guy was serious. Photos appeared of me in a bikini on the Arab's boat. They even made the front page of newspaper. There I was laid out on the boat, with the Arab man rubbing sun cream on my back. The paper neglected to say my husband was on the boat, until inside the front page.

Yes I'm terrified, in case something goes wrong, but I can cope with a lot more yet.....hopefully. My eyes look over to my bag. Somehow I have to get to the phone, my sex phone. Right now, I'll take any abuse from my husband about me having a lover, which would be more tolerable than spending the next few days locked up in here, praying things go right. We've been through a sticky patch before, and I managed to convince my husband it was just the newspapers making something out of nothing.

I shuffled across the bed, I strained and I grunted. I even swung my legs over to hook them in the bag handle. I still had to figure out how to open the zip and get the phone to my hands, but I was desperate.

The cuffs dug in a little to my wrists, but hell would freeze over first before I gave up. The only thing that stopped me was the footsteps on the stairs. I swung my legs back on the bed, and shuffled up, hoping my skirt would stay in the same place and cover my stockings tops, it didn't. As the key turned in the lock, I knew a few inches of stocking top would be visible.

Even though the fat man had a ski mask on, I could see him stop and smile at the sight before him.

"Are you trying to tease me lady?" he asked with a sick tone in his voice.

"My, my legs have gone numb. I've got pins, pins and needles. I was just....well exercising, a bit."

I watched him pick up my bag, and he threw it next to me on the bed, to make way for the plate, with something almost indescribable on it, which he placed on the table. I told myself not to look at my bag, so as not to draw attention to it. He untied the rope from the cuffs, and pulled me up into a more sitting position.

"It's a microwave meal, some sort of stew," he announced.

I shuffled my legs over the side of the bed and under the table, I lifted my backside off the bed and tugged my skirt down as best I could, which caused him to chuckle. He handed me a plastic spoon.

"Do you have to tie me up like that again?" I mumbled, just before I took a mouthful.

"Yep," he replied.

I was aware of my bag resting against my hip. Even though it was so close to me I couldn't possibly get to my phone before he stopped me. My first hope of not being tied up like that again had been dashed. Still I had another plan.

SylviaG
SylviaG
1,389 Followers
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