I held the flashlight in one hand, pointing it at the floor of the van as I lifted the carpet with the other hand. Clearly, a third hand was needed to extract the spare tire.
"Excuse me, Ma'am"?
I called out just as she was just coming out of the park.
"Can you help me? I'm taking my pregnant wife to the hospital, and I'm having trouble with one of the tires ..."
She approached the back of the van. I swing around, letting the flashlight beam streak over the wig and pillows in the passenger seat, my "pregnant wife". The tape in the car stereo gave off the moans of a woman feeling another contraction, "Joohhn, huurryy".
She came closer to the back doors, I held out the flashlight. As she reached to take it from me, I grabbed her arm, and quickly pulled her tiny, almost weightless frame into the back of the van. A swift kick on the ropes I had rigged slammed the doors behind us.
She screamed. I choked her neck and shoved a rag into her mouth, then sprawled on top of her and grabbed her wrists, spreading them beyond her head and clicking the cuffs into place.
There! She was helpless! She was mine!
I drove quickly to the house. Scuzzy old houses were common enough, but it had taken some searching to find one in an industrial area, isolated between two noisy factories, the only residence nearby.
I pulled into the garage, released her, detaching the spreader bar which secured her wrists, from the van. Opening the van doors, I grabbed the bar and pulled her out by the feet, then dragged her by the spreader bar into the house and down into the cold, stone-walled root cellar.
It took only a moment to attach another spreader bar to her ankles, to replace the rag in her mouth with a proper gag, one that filled her mouth completely, stretching her jaws painfully wide.
Pain and fear were essential, she must learn quickly to obey, as a last hope of surviving her ordeal. Soon that would lead to an endless succession of humiliation and detraction, turning her into a slut who would be grateful for the chance to serve her master, robbing her of any will to escape.
But first, to look at what I had found ...
I attached a pair of overhead chains to the bar keeping her arms outstretched, and pressed the button which winched her up, onto her knees, then standing upright, finally hanging clear of any support, her weight dangling from her wrists. A few button pops opened her long coat.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a straight razor and flicked it open. A touch of terror would get things off to the right feel.
I reached down, between her legs, and brought the razor up, splitting her skirt, from its ankle-length hem, slowly up, past her knees, up to her crotch, to the waistband, pulling the waistband away from her belly with the other hand, to slice the cloth clear.
A couple minutes' work split the arms of her coat lengthwise, allowing it to drop to the floor.
A nice expensive coat, too. Shame. Lovely wool skirt. She had a silk blouse, but not for long.
I grabbed the blouse, and gave it a solid yank. I could feel the fabric give across her shoulders, as some of the buttons popped loose. Another yank tore it free, leaving only the collar and ragged arms.
A couple of flicks of the razor, and her tiny thong panties fell away, a couple more and the straps of her tiny bra hung down her torso. I took hold of the front snap, and popped the bra open, letting it fall behind her.
I sank into my comfortable chair, my arms and legs dangling, and looked at her.
Her brown hair had become tussled and messed up in her struggles, tears were streaming from her eyes as she stared at me in wide-eyed fear, her breath coming in gasps and sobs ... well, you can't sob through your nose, when your mouth is stuffed full of hard rubber gag. I don't know what to call that sound, but I loved the way it made her tiny tits heave up and down.
She was shorter than I, but a good height, and skinny, skinny, skinny. Tiny little waist, I would be able to hold her by the waist and control her.
And such a sweet little cunt. I guess the brown was her natural colour, the lower tuft was similar in shade. That would have to go first, teach her she was a fuck slut, now. The razor would make another terrifying appearance.
I decided to leave the vertically striped charcoal stockings on her, for the moment, I loved the garters, I didn't want to lose those. And so sweet of her to choose red ones for me.
But before anything else, a nice long hot bath, and a beer. Before I went upstairs, I went to the dresser, pulled out a drawer, and removed a couple of items, placing them carefully on the counter, handy for my return.
A riding crop, a thick barber's strop, some nipple clamps with one pound weights---would she realize what those were?, a length of knotted rope, and a heavy flogger.
Let her hang there and feel her body hanging from her wrists, the pain growing in her shoulders. Let her think about my toys, wondering what use they would find, what sensation they would produce.
I went to the corner, and filled a bucket with the icy water which this cellar tap always seemed to produce, then walked back and carefully poured it over her head, drenching her from head to foot.
Time to warm up! I went to the door, opened it.
"I have to go sooth my aching bones, sweetheart. Don't go anywhere!"
After one last look at her dripping hair, I turned off the light, plunging her into darkness, and shut the door behind me.