No escape
The sales woman of the rival company asked to meet with me to talk about
the big project we competed for. What I didn't know was that she had a trap
set for me. My opponent subdued me and tied my feet and hands, leaving me
abandoned in a warehouse while she was going to deliver the offer that she
would surely win in the absence of competition. Now I fight against my bonds
to try to escape the trap but my feet and hands are firmly tied. There is no
escape possible.
I am a seasoned saleswoman with a body that could turn heads and a mind
sharper than the stiletto of my favorite pink high heels. I walked with
confidence, my hips swaying with the grace of a gazelle and the purpose of a
panther. My outfit today was meticulously chosen: a crisp white blouse that
accentuated my ample bosom and a tight black miniskirt that showcased my
long, shapely legs, all topped off with shiny suntan pantyhose that left
nothing to the imagination. The high heels I wore clicked rhythmically
against the sidewalk, a sound that echoed through the quiet streets of the
industrial area I found myself in. The setting sun cast a warm glow over me,
the light bouncing off my auburn hair and making it appear as if I were on
fire.
The warehouse loomed ahead, a monolith of steel and darkness in the rapidly descending night. It was here that she, the saleswoman from the rival company, had asked to meet. She claimed she wanted to discuss the big project we'd both been eyeing, the one that could make or break our careers. But as I stepped through the heavy metal doors, a sense of unease began to creep over me, a feeling that something was off. The air was stale, the kind that lingers in places long abandoned, and the faint scent of dust and oil clung to my nostrils.
Inside, the cavernous space was lit by a single, flickering bulb that cast eerie shadows across the floor, making the towering shelves seem to dance in the gloom. The echo of my heels on the cold concrete was the only sound, bouncing off the corrugated metal walls like the ticking of a clock counting down to doom. I called out her name, my voice sounding small and fragile in the vast emptiness. But there was no answer, only the muffled echo of my own words.
As I ventured deeper into the warehouse, a sudden movement caught the corner of my eye. I spun around, expecting to see her, ready to charm and persuade. Instead, I found myself face to face with a figure clad in black, a smirk playing on her lips as she emerged from the shadows. She was the epitome of a villainess, with her dark hair slicked back and a gun in her hand. "Surprise," she sneered, her voice a purr that sent a shiver down my spine.
In a flash, she was on me, the cold steel of the gun pressing into my side. My heart raced as she pushed me against a nearby shelf, the metal digging into my flesh. "What do you want?" I demanded, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. Her laugh was like a knife, cold and sharp. "What I want," she said, "is for you to be out of the way. You're too good at what you do."
With surprising strength, she wrenched my arms behind my back and began to tie my wrists with the same white rope that was lying coiled on the floor. I struggled, trying to kick her, but she was too quick, dodging my blows with the grace of a dancer. The ropes bit into my skin, but I gritted my teeth and focused on escape.
Once my wrists were bound, she moved to my ankles, tying them together with a swiftness that spoke of practice. "You're going to regret this," I spat through clenched teeth as she worked, my heels scraping futilely against the ground. She simply chuckled, enjoying the power she had over me. "You're going to regret ever crossing me."
When she was done, she laid me on the floor, my legs stretched out and bound so tightly that the blood pooled uncomfortably in my feet. "You're not going anywhere," she taunted, admiring her handiwork. I glared up at her, my mind racing with thoughts of retribution. But she was already turning away, the click of her own heels fading into the distance as she disappeared into the shadows from which she'd emerged.
Alone and immobilized, I took a deep breath and assessed my situation. The ropes around my wrists were tight, but not painfully so. The ones around my ankles, however, felt like a vice. Panic began to set in as I realized that she'd left me here, a helpless pawn in her twisted game.
The warehouse loomed ahead, a monolith of steel and darkness in the rapidly descending night. It was here that she, the saleswoman from the rival company, had asked to meet. She claimed she wanted to discuss the big project we'd both been eyeing, the one that could make or break our careers. But as I stepped through the heavy metal doors, a sense of unease began to creep over me, a feeling that something was off. The air was stale, the kind that lingers in places long abandoned, and the faint scent of dust and oil clung to my nostrils.
Inside, the cavernous space was lit by a single, flickering bulb that cast eerie shadows across the floor, making the towering shelves seem to dance in the gloom. The echo of my heels on the cold concrete was the only sound, bouncing off the corrugated metal walls like the ticking of a clock counting down to doom. I called out her name, my voice sounding small and fragile in the vast emptiness. But there was no answer, only the muffled echo of my own words.
As I ventured deeper into the warehouse, a sudden movement caught the corner of my eye. I spun around, expecting to see her, ready to charm and persuade. Instead, I found myself face to face with a figure clad in black, a smirk playing on her lips as she emerged from the shadows. She was the epitome of a villainess, with her dark hair slicked back and a gun in her hand. "Surprise," she sneered, her voice a purr that sent a shiver down my spine.
In a flash, she was on me, the cold steel of the gun pressing into my side. My heart raced as she pushed me against a nearby shelf, the metal digging into my flesh. "What do you want?" I demanded, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. Her laugh was like a knife, cold and sharp. "What I want," she said, "is for you to be out of the way. You're too good at what you do."
With surprising strength, she wrenched my arms behind my back and began to tie my wrists with the same white rope that was lying coiled on the floor. I struggled, trying to kick her, but she was too quick, dodging my blows with the grace of a dancer. The ropes bit into my skin, but I gritted my teeth and focused on escape.
Once my wrists were bound, she moved to my ankles, tying them together with a swiftness that spoke of practice. "You're going to regret this," I spat through clenched teeth as she worked, my heels scraping futilely against the ground. She simply chuckled, enjoying the power she had over me. "You're going to regret ever crossing me."
When she was done, she laid me on the floor, my legs stretched out and bound so tightly that the blood pooled uncomfortably in my feet. "You're not going anywhere," she taunted, admiring her handiwork. I glared up at her, my mind racing with thoughts of retribution. But she was already turning away, the click of her own heels fading into the distance as she disappeared into the shadows from which she'd emerged.
Alone and immobilized, I took a deep breath and assessed my situation. The ropes around my wrists were tight, but not painfully so. The ones around my ankles, however, felt like a vice. Panic began to set in as I realized that she'd left me here, a helpless pawn in her twisted game.
If you liked the story above, you'll enjoy this video too. Here is the
continuation of the academy of ladies.
