Tom and Gabby Ch. 07 - Absconsion

I lock my knees in position, making it as awkward as possible to move me. Tom persists.

"Don't make a fuss Gabby," he reasons quietly.

"I'm not going anywhere!" I insist adamantly.

The spectators watch as Tom starts to manhandle me backwards, determined to get me out of the shop.

"You've caused enough trouble for one day Gabrielle. It's time to come home now, where you belong," Linda tells me, before turning back to the gathering of people.

"She's completely detached herself from reality," she proclaims. "In her mind, we're the enemy, when all we're trying to do is help her. She constantly demands that we let her leave our care, inventing ridiculous stories about us treating her terribly. Some of things she thinks up are just bizarre. We've had to learn to not be offended by her delusions. She is ill, after all."

Linda grounds her lies in truth; spinning my perspective to sound like deranged ramblings.

"I think you should apologise to these nice people for causing such a scene Gabrielle," she suggests sweetly, leaning inward towards me, asserting her dominance over the situation and me.

I arch my neck and spit at her. It's impulsive. I've never spat at anyone in my life and despite being overcome with frustration, I am inwardly appalled by my action. It unsurprisingly does nothing to help the situation.

Linda gasps in horror and recoils, wiping my spit from her face, and then looks around to make sure my disgusting action has been seen.

The onlookers all emit an audible gasp. Most of them are elderly and condemn such disrespect to my supposed care providers. Perhaps if they knew the truth, they'd be less quick to condemn me.

Tom shakes me furiously.

"Right. That's enough Gabby," he fumes and heaves me through the doors, out of the shop, leaving Linda inside.

He rotates me to face forward once we're outside, interrupting my watching of Linda through the doors, being provided with outpourings of 'emotional support' by people inside.

I'm forcefully walked over to his car, which is parked on the road at the front of the shop, with its hazards flashing.

He yanks the backdoor open and throws me into the seat, furiously, then slams the door.

I scramble up and begin jamming on the handle frantically. The door doesn't budge, and I realise that he must have engaged the child locks to keep me inside.

I watch him smoking through the window as he waits for Linda.

She emerges from the shop after a couple of minutes and hurries over to the car. Tom hugs her when she reaches it.

They climb into the front seats simultaneously and Tom starts the engine.

I can hear Linda breathing heavily. "Nothing like that is ever going to happen again Gabrielle," she tells me slowly and clearly, trying to keep her voice steady to disguise her flustered demeanour.

Tom reaches over and squeezes her thigh, tenderly, showing her that he's fully aligned with her.

It wasn't meant to happen like this. I was supposed to be free now, safely stowed away somewhere and planning for a future without them.

We drive the short journey home in uncomfortable silence.

I'm so unbelievably overcome by having my hopes shattered that my eyes water and I cry quietly in the back seat. My blubbering doesn't even mildly concern them.

When we arrive back at the house, Linda climbs out of the car and goes to unlock the front door.

She delegates the task of bringing me inside to Tom.

I don't fight or resist, but this doesn't make him any gentler in his handling of me.

He wrenches me out by my arm to haul me across the driveway and in through the front door.

Once we're back inside, he holds me still in the hallway with my arms pinned behind my back, while Linda locks the door behind us. She removes the keys and puts them into her pocket when she's finished, then moves around to face us. Her dark eyes are the only part of her face showing any emotion.

She's stoic as she steps towards me and grapples for the bottom of my dress, swiftly pulling it up my body.

Seeming to understand perfectly what she wants, Tom relinquishes my arms to allow her to wrestle it off me, making his presence known behind me as she continues. She prises my top off and manoeuvres it over my head.

When my upper body is fully naked and I don't need to move my arms anymore, Tom grips them again, while Linda swiftly tugs my knickers down my legs.

When I'm in a complete state of undress, stripped of any dignity, she reaches down between my legs and grips my clit in her fingers.

I jolt back hard against Tom's body.

"You just fucked up bigtime," she hisses.

"Y'know, Tom and I were only talking last night about trying to find a way of taking you out of the house with us. We don't like keeping you cooped up here and think it'd be good for people to see you in your new context. With us, of course. Tom and me, the perfect couple. And you, his troll of an ex, dressed in something extra special, bumbling along behind us as the third wheel," she depicts, sadistically.

I croak as she squeezes my clit tighter.

"We'd come up with an amazing idea of how we'd make it happen; how we'd keep you subdued and submissive out in public with us and we were actually considering making a start on it," she tells me. "And then you went and pulled this little stunt today. Obviously you're not ready to go out in public yet, are you? We've still got work to do with you before we take you out for people to gawp at."

She moves her fingers again to prevent me from answering her, and I turn my head away from her.

"What makes you think it's acceptable to spit at me? After everything I've done and continue to do for you?" she lowers her tone, and drops her free hand down to her trousers, slipping it under the waistband. I feel as she shuffles around and then brings her hand back out, to wipe something wet under my nose. I instinctively inhale, and my nostrils are filled with a pungent earthy scent. I try to discern what it is, unable to escape it.

"Take it in Gabrielle," Linda taunts me, and moves her fingers around my slit again, making certain she's on my clit.

She pushes her fingers into my mouth, and coats the fluid, whatever it is around my gums.

"It's what Tom and I were doing while we were letting you have a lie in this morning. We did it on the kitchen table, right where you eat your meals. It was the perfect way to start our day. When he came, pumping his spunk inside me, I thought it'd never end, there was so much of it. I want you to imagine it, smelling and tasting us together, while we teach you a lesson. "

She pulls her fingers out of my pussy and nods at Tom. In a combined effort of her picking up my legs and Tom lifting the rest of me, they carry me into the dining room together.

They drop me onto the table roughly and fasten me down tight, working seamlessly as a team.

They pull the straps tighter round my wrists and ankles than ever before, ensuring I'm denied any leverage to move, then position themselves at the side of the room, hand in hand, fingers interlocked, looking down on me.

"Do you think she'd been planning to do that for a while Tom?" Linda asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I doubt it," Tom responds, stretching his arms up. He never falters in his position as the encyclopaedia of knowledge about me. "I think it was opportunistic. A snap decision, not premeditated."

"I'm trying to figure out where she thought she was going to go? Where she thought we wouldn't find her?" Linda asks, seeming to try to analyse my decision making.

"Fuck knows Lind. She's not exactly logical in her thinking, is she?" Tom counterquestions. "Especially with her hormonal brain on."

I resent his inference.

"I'm still reeling from what a close call it was," Linda expresses. "Things could've gone really wrong back there. I'm only glad that she'd made things easier by acting insane before we got there. Who knows what might have happened if we hadn't arrived when we did," she ponders.

"I did nothing," Tom insists. "You did all the work. And you were brilliant," Tom compliments.

"I went into autopilot love," Linda responds. "I knew what needed to be done, and I did it. All I'm thinking about right now is us making sure it doesn't happen again," she emphasises.

"Have you got something in mind?" Tom probes.

"I've got a few ideas," she nods, still looking at me. "I'll tell you in the kitchen. I don't want this one listening in," she responds cryptically, referring to me.

"It wasn't what I'd got planned for our day off," she comments. "We've not even done the gym yet and my heart rate has reached the high hundreds. Fucking hell. "

She laughs quietly.

"Poor you," I snipe, thinking out loud.

"Did you say something Gabrielle?" she demands, almost daring me to repeat my words.

I'm overcome with a sense of brazenness, maybe because of the knowledge that they already intend to make me suffer. I doubt anything I say now will worsen things.

"Poor. You," I repeat, sounding the words out clearly. "It's awful that you've had to worry. The thought of me talking to someone about my life here must have been unbearable. What is the sentence for kidnapping and imprisonment nowadays?" I challenge her. Linda looks at me agape, amazed at my temerity. She doesn't move, thinking of how to deal with my outburst, but Tom is immediately triggered into action.

He straightens from leaning against the wall, releasing Linda's hand, and strides over to the sideboard.

He opens the top drawer and rummages through it, not stopping until he's pulled the ballgag out.

He brings it over to me determinedly and presses the ball to my mouth. I clamp my jaws shut tightly and turn my head away from him, having no intention of being silenced. Tom continues to try and prise it in, before exhaling deeply and revising his plan.

"Gabby's not grasping the seriousness of the situation here Lind. Can you give her a bit of persuasion," he suggests, and she nods to acknowledge.

Without any hesitation, she moves over to the table, levelling herself with my hips and reaches over to my pussy. She peels back the skin protecting my clit before pinching the sensitive nub between her thumb and forefinger again, applying just enough pressure to make me thrash my head back and gasp. My mouth opens slightly, as she moves her hand away and it proves enough for Tom to wedge the gag in and wriggle it into place.

He flattens his palm over it to prevent my spitting it back out and coerces the straps around my head to secure it in place with the buckle.

I swear angrily, but all that comes out is incoherent muffles accompanied by a rapid onset of slobbering.

"Shall we try out that stuff you bought?" he suggests to Linda, raising his voice to drown out my incoherent rantings.

Linda looks at him for a second, ascertaining his meaning. She realises and smiles, before circling the table, to retrieve something from a different drawer of the sideboard.

I curb my cursing for a moment to see what she's doing but I can't see her around Tom's broad frame.

She returns, brandishing a bottle. It's black and looks like a fancy face cream dispenser.

She appears to read the back of it, with a small smile to Tom and then removes the seal.

"I've been waiting for an opportunity to try it on her," she delights. "How much do you think I should use?" she asks.

"Give her a good slathering love," Tom advises. "She's earned it."

Linda presses the pump down a couple of times, dispensing a dollop of colourless gel into her fingertips.

I watch Tom as he stretches to my crotch, assisting Linda by spreading my pussy open for her. He seems to scrutinise its appearance with disgust as he does it. His standards have clearly improved now he's with Linda.

She kisses him on the cheek before smearing the gel across my clit and massages it around thoroughly, ignoring my reflexive flinching. I can still smell the products of their morning passion under my nose.

When she's finished, Tom pulls his hand away, and wipes residue across my naked stomach.

I demand to know what the substance is but can't make myself understood beneath the gag.

Tom acts as if I haven't spoken at all.

"Let's give it a chance to work Lind. We'll get some coffee and see if it makes any difference when we come back," he suggests.

They leave me alone, pulling the door closed on their way through it.

I have no choice but to lie on the table, awaiting their return. I contemplate how they intend to punish me for what I tried but ultimately failed to do.

I suspect it'll be something beyond the realms of their normal mistreatment. They'll make a point of it.

If arguing against them is enough to warrant a couple of forced orgasms, what might an escape attempt justify?

I halt my thoughts when I notice a strange warming sensation starting in my clit. It's not wholly unpleasant but I find the unknowing of its cause troubling.

I shuffle my arse around awkwardly on the table, trying to ignore it.

I was so close to getting away this morning. How could it have gone so wrong?

I lay the blame of my recapture on my choice to go into the shop. I should've just kept running.

I could have been anywhere now. Instead, I'm back here. Back in their clutches. Being made to inhale their carnality. There probably won't be another chance for me to get away now. Not for a long time. They'll be on high alert in scrutinising everything I do for the foreseeable future, and will likely think of further restrictions to shrink my world.

I'm only left with a couple of choices. I could maintain my defiance and make it clear to them that I still intend to get away at any cost. Or I could feign remorse over my actions and hope for a lesser reprimanding.

I consider which option might benefit me more, recognising that I'll be punished regardless.

Tom is usually quite hard to get a reaction from, I know from my vast experience of winding him up throughout our marriage. I find it interesting that my mention of how much trouble they could get into provoked him. It was why he was so quick to silence me. Is he afraid of people finding out?

Maybe my time away this morning was enough to cause them to evaluate the potential repercussions if anyone ever found out about my situation? They always seem so confident in what they're doing, but perhaps its laced with cautious determination to not face consequences for my incarceration with them?

If I'm right, could I use this as a position to negotiate from? It's got to be worth a try. Everything else I've attempted has failed to work.

I'm alone for roughly fifteen minutes, before they return.

They walk in together, but Linda diverts course, tasked with bringing the microphone stand over to the foot of the table to me.

I watch her contemplatively.

My best chance of reaching an agreement with them would be one done before I'm rendered incapable of negotiating.

I sound out.

They both look at me, shaking their heads, and talk between themselves, unaffected by my interruption.

I wait for them to finish, before requesting they remove the gag, but the words come out nothing like they're meant to and sound like gibberish.

"Is there something you'd like to say Gabby?" Tom queries, coldly.

I nod enthusiastically.

"Is it something really important?" Linda asks, sidling beside him, presenting a united front.

I nod again.

"It'll have to wait until later," Tom decides.

I shake my head fervently.

"I don't think there was any questions in what you just said, was there love?" Linda makes light.

"No, there wasn't. It isn't up for debate," Tom refutes. "Quieten yourself down Gabby and listen. You forgot your place this morning. Linda and I have been talking about it and we think that you need to be reminded. It's not how we wanted to spend today, by any means, but ultimately, our commitment to you means it needs to be done. We need to make sure that you have the incentive to stop yourself having any more 'big ideas'."

I shake my head insistently. I just want to converse with them. Sensibly, amicably even. It might not be a good time, I'll admit, but they don't seem even slightly inclined to consider allowing it.

I can't even use my hands to communicate my wants.

Linda laughs and leans down next to my head, resting her elbows on the table beside me. When I turn to face her, her bulging tits are almost springing from her top.

"Are you trying to apologise for what you did?" she asks, almost sympathetically.

Their pettiness in silencing me is astounding. Why don't they just take the gag out of my mouth and listen to what I want to say? I already know that any thoughts of rationally negotiating will be wiped from my mind if they force me to orgasm prior to letting me speak.

I nod, hoping a display of amenability might persuade them.

"An apology is meaningless Gabby. You're not sorry for what you did," Tom dismisses me. "You're only sorry that we caught you and brought you back here."

I try to make eye contact with him but he's not receptive to it.

"Ultimately, we'll always catch you and bring you back here. We're more interested in what you feel is so bad about your life with us that'd make you want to be somewhere else?" he interrogates.

"Are you not fed well? Or clothed? Do we cause you any physical harm? Do we make you keep the house clean; not that you'd be able to do that? Do we make you go to work, and pay the bills? Or go shopping to buy food for the household? Or keep your husband happy? No," he appears to think about it. "None of those things. Don't we give you countless orgasms every day for your own good; until your eyes are rolling round in the back of your skull? And all we ask of you in return, is to follow the rules we set. Do you know how many people would love to be in your position?" he asks.

His arrogance is unbelievable. He can't be serious, surely?

How could he even entertain the idea that anyone would choose to live this life?

"Gratitude isn't in her nature Tom," Linda snuggles into him. "She's had ample opportunities to show appreciation and she didn't. Maybe she can't? Maybe she doesn't know how to? It beggars belief how in all the eleven years she was lucky enough to be married to you, none of which she deserved; she took it all for granted. She never once considered that marriages are two sided. The life you gave her and everything you did for her was just expected. And she gave you nothing back for it. What I find particularly infuriating is her having the nerve to begrudge me. And only for wanting to give you a good life, the kind of life you deserve." she marvels.

"Even our keeping her here with us, out of the goodness of our hearts, seems to mean nothing to her. Does she think she's easy to look after? I don't think I've ever encountered someone as spoiled and entitled as she is."

I'm furious at her words. They're both delusional.

She slips from Tom and stands at the foot of the table, beside the microphone stand.

"I try not to think about it Lind," Tom sighs. "As much as she should be thankful, it's not going to happen. We either need to make peace with it, or get annoyed about it. And what's that going to help? We know we're doing the right thing. You and me are together. And happy. And have a great future ahead of us. And Gabby is right where she deserves to be. Our focus needs to be on making sure she doesn't get an opportunity to repeat what she did this morning," he assures and nods down to her.

Without a word, Linda bends the wand down and manipulates it between my pussy lips. She turns it on and I groan out loudly.

Strangely, even on the low setting, the vibrations are vastly overstimulating against my clit.