The Good Ol' Days Tania Marsters was very pleased. It was not often that a bondage model - even one as popular as herself - was offered a thousand for one day's work, and she'd just been offered three. With that kind of money, she thought excitedly, she'd be able to finish paying off her credit card debt. Before accumulating a new one all over again. The buxom blonde giggled - but the sound was muffled by the gag she was wearing. If indeed the flimsy strip of white cloth that covered her face from nose to chin could be called a gag. Tania knew that if she so much as sneezed, the strip would fall away and leave her able to giggle, talk, or call out to any would-be rescuer. Not that one was needed. After all, the thick nylon rope "binding" her wrists behind her back, and her legs at her ankles and knees, was tied so loosely that she could have shrugged free from its grasp within moments. But then, the gag and ropes did not need to be tied tightly. As long as the bondage looked "reasonably convincing" (as one photographer had once told her), the pics would sell. And that was all that mattered. Why should she, as a paid professional, have to go through any unnecessary discomfort? As it was, she was sitting completely naked in a drafty old warehouse on top of a few wooden crates. She could get splinters in her ass, for shit's sake! That ought to be enough discomfort for anyone. Thankfully, Bill - the photographer who'd hired her for the day - seemed to share her perspective on the matter. Ever since he'd eagerly rushed to meet her as she'd pulled up in the parking lot outside the abandoned warehouse, Bill had been the perfect gentleman. Firstly, he'd made sure that she had a ready supply of fruit and a wide range of drinks at her disposal; and on top of that, he'd constantly checked that the knots binding her weren't too tight as he'd tied her into position after position. But best of all, Bill had paid Tania up front - something that the bondage model had learnt never to expect. She guessed he was kind of attractive in a way. Tall and thin, with sandy coloured hair and a smattering of freckles across his hawk-nose. Not the kind of guy she'd go for, of course (a model had to have STANDARDS), but attractive enough. She'd caught him gaping at her own body a few times, in between shots. But she was more than used to that. If he wanted a little perve at her bronzed skin, long legs, thin waist, and 34D cup breasts (the boob job had been a necessity if she wanted to keep getting work), that was fine with her. It wasn't like he was ever going to get to play with the real thing, so why shouldn't he be allowed to masturbate to images of her bound and gagged beneath him?? "And one more," Bill said. In response, Tania jutted out her breasts that little bit further and tried to look petulant through the gag. "There!" Smiling, Bill set the camera down on a crate beside him and stepped quickly over to Tania's side. He reached up to undo the knot of her gag, but she was already in the process of allowing it to slip off her mouth. "Oh," he said, "that easy, huh?" "Thankfully! There's no way I could have been gagged properly for that long. That set must have taken a whole 45 minutes!" Bill's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure I got the best pictures possible. Besides," he said with a grin, "I'm betting you could last properly bound and gagged a whole lot longer than you think." "And what's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing much. It's just in my experience, women can generally put up with a whole lot more than they think can. If they have to." Tania frowned, noticing for the first time that Bill was no longer being over-the-top Mr Nice Guy. For starters, he hadn't even gone to untie her yet; and for remainders, this whole conversation was getting decidedly weird. Tania decided there and then that top bondage models shouldn't have to put up with this kind of shit. Maybe she should see about organising some kind of union in the near future. As long as she didn't have to do any actual work, she couldn't see the harm in it. "What's the matter? You don't agree with me?" Tania squirmed a little in her bonds. The rope cinching her wrists together was actually tighter than she'd first expected. "Bill, I think you should untie me now." A smirk creased the photographer's lips. "No, c'mon, I want to know. Don't you think that women can put up with more discomfort than they believe if they're actually put to the test?" Genuine alarm began to gnaw at Tania's stomach. She twisted her wrists savagely, trying to pull herself free, but her arms were held tight behind her back. Bill ignored her now blatant struggling, evidently still waiting for an answer. "I'm not sure, okay Bill?" Tania blurted out desperately. "Please untie me now." "You're not sure? Well, maybe you should ask her." Bill pointed a finger up at the ceiling two floors above Tania's head. Almost on impulse, the bondage model craned her head back . . . and gasped loudly. A completely naked woman hung suspended from the ceiling - her arms and legs spread wide and attached by taught rope to the roof's support girders. She was face down, so Tania could see that the woman's dangling breasts were blown up like mini-balloons because of the cord wrapped tightly around the base of each. She wasn't sure, but it appeared that more of the cord had been tied around the woman's stomach and pulled savagely tight between her legs. That cord, more than anything may have accounted for the fact that the woman seemed to be doing little more than breathing - as if movement was simply too painful. It was difficult to tell though, because the woman's expression was obscured by the white bandage that had been wrapped around her face from the middle of her forehead to the tip of her chin. Tania opened her mouth to utter a piercing shriek, but was cut off as one of Bill's hands clamped down on her mouth, and the other wrapped around her stomach, drawing her back against him. "She's been up there for almost 6 hours now." Bill rasped into Tania's ear as she struggled against his grip. "What I want to see is if you can do any better." ***** It took Bill an hour to secure Tania into a position alongside her equally famous counterpart, Julie Symmons, but it was obvious by the third photo of the pair that it had been worth every second. The camera did not lie and through his lens, the women looked glorious as they suffered. Of course, Julie's suffering had to be inferred from the cues that her painfully contorted body was soundlessly emitting. The blindfold and gag he'd forced upon her made sure of that. Her mouth he'd packed full of her own sullied underwear and an additional grime-encrusted rag that he'd only just managed to cram behind her teeth. Julie hadn't been able to press her lips together with that much material in her oral cavity, so Bill had opted to cleave her mouth with multiple windings of dirty grey rope rather than taping it shut. The way her eyes had widened as he'd knotted the rope at the apex of her neck had given Bill an almost surreal thrill. In fact, he'd almost decided to refrain from a blindfold, just so he could see that expression every time he managed to chance a glance upward. Common sense, however, had overruled that idea. If Julie knew he was luring another model into the warehouse, there was no telling what could happen. Consequently, he'd proceeded to wrap a thick white bandage over her terrified eyes but not before shutting down another of her senses with a set of wax ear plugs. Her quiet whimpering had increased in volume at that stage, so Bill had been forced to wind another bandage in between and then over her pale lips to ensure she was quiet enough. Finally satisfied, Bill had slowly walked Julie to the second floor catwalk of the warehouse and secured her to the iron railing with cotton rope above and below her breasts. He'd then taken his time to bind Julie's C-cup breasts as stringently as possible by wrapping a thin cord of about 8 feet in length around the base of each. Julie had struggled and groaned in protest as her breasts had been moulded into a pair of angry red balloons. Chuckling, Bill had taken a much longer length of the same cord and wrapped it around Julie's stomach half a dozen times. He'd pulled it tight enough to make the model suck in her already flat stomach, and then yanked it up between her legs so that the coarse strand disappeared into her crotch. Tying it off, Bill had been unable to resist twanging the cord and watching Julie sob into her gag as the cord scraped against her clitoris painfully. That done, it was a simple matter of preparing the suspension ropes above the landing and then tying Julie into them one limb at a time. She'd struggled, of course - especially during the brief period where she'd had one arm free - but Bill had dealt with that challenge by simply slapping her engorged breasts whenever she'd gotten a little too active. In the end, he'd had Julie secured a full twenty minutes before Tania had arrived at the warehouse. And the raven haired beauty had remained tied in exactly the same position the entire time that he'd been snapping shots of an unsuspecting Tania Marsters. Now, some eight and a half hours after passing the point of no return, Bill had all but succeeded in his plan. He had two of the most gorgeous models ever to grace the fetish scene, bound, gagged and subject to his every whim. Bill had been thinking about doing this for almost two years and planning it formally for three months. This wasn't some spontaneous "grab-a-woman" off the street kidnapping. Oh no. This was something much more important. This was art. Bill was a big fan of the late 70s style of bondage. A big, big fan. In fact, he was probably it's greatest fan. His collection of bondage related paraphernalia from that era had to be the biggest in the world. He had bought every single video, magazine and prop he could lay his hands on since he was old enough to start collecting - even if that was 12 years after the "golden era" had ended. Since that time, he'd waited patiently, hoping against hope that there would be shift from the current "love bondage" emphasis back to the "damsels-in-distress" paradigm that he enjoyed so much. The thrill for Bill was all in the fact that the model (as well as the character she was portraying) was actually in some kind of physical discomfort while she was being photographed or filmed. As far as he was concerned, the whole cuffs around the wrists and bit of cloth between the lips was bullshit. A model should EARN her money and in the process truly emote her situation from within the confines of a jaw stretching gag and the cruellest of tight ropes. Unfortunately, his patience had yielded him nothing. Instead, he found his frustration growing as year after year of disappointment passed by. And then one day - after yet another fruitless day combing the city's adult book stores - Bill had snapped. If no-one else would accommodate his desires, then he would do it himself. Even if it meant kidnapping the best fetish models in the world and pushing them to their limits . . . Bill grinned savagely as he snapped yet another photo of Tania's pain contorted face. He was living his ultimate fantasy. And it was better than he'd ever imagined. ***** Tania was sure that at any moment she was going to wake up from this, her worst nightmare. But she gradually realised, with no small degree of horror, that her current predicament was all too real - and that there was no foreseeable escape. The beautiful model hung in a suspended hogtie, ten feet above the meshed floor of the iron catwalk. Her entire weight was being supported by three ropes: one that was connected to the thin cord binding her ankles together, a second attached to the same type of cord binding her wrists, and a third that encircled her chest at breast level. This latter rope dug into tender mounds painfully, while the other two drew her arms and legs so far back that the heels of her ankles actually touched the sides of her palms. In addition, her elbows were crushed together by more of the thin cord that Bill had taken great delight in applying to her body. He had basically looped the cord around her upper arms and proceeded to pull them together inch by agonising inch. Tania would have screamed in pain if it hadn't have been for the fact that her mouth had been stuffed with own her underwear and a hard rubber ball that had been buckled excruciatingly tight underneath her hair. Even now, it was the elbow bondage as much as the suspension that was causing her the most grief. Her elbows were just not made to be tied together . . . but Bill, the sadistic bastard, had somehow managed to make it happen. At least he'd left her crotch alone - Tania had that to be thankful for. She only had to look over at the other woman hanging to her left to see the additional torment she must have been experiencing because of that one little wire. Tania risked a glance down, and fighting aside the bought of vertigo that threatened to overwhelm her pain, saw Bill setting his camera aside. "Okay ladies, it's time to move onto new and varied things." Both Tania and the other woman shifted subtly and moaned muffled pleas into their stringent gags. "No, don't get too excited, Tania. You've got 4 hours and 47 minutes remaining up there to best Julie's record." WHAT?!? Tania wanted to scream the word, but instead found herself choking on her panties and trying to deal with the sudden flare in her pain from her straining shoulders. Dimly, through her pained gasps and mounting panic, Tania heard Bill speak again. "As for you Julie, I think it's time we got better acquainted." ***** Having untied Julie from her four-limbed suspension and lowered her to the floor of the catwalk, Bill quickly gathered the model's quaking arms and pulled them behind her back. The last thing he wanted was the bitch taking a lucky shot at him while he knelt above her. It soon became evident, however, that he had little to worry about as Julie's arms were like jelly between his fingertips. Yet to even remotely recover from her arduous ordeal, the model could only gurgle ineffectually into the many layers of her gag as Bill once again bound her wrists and elbows, and then lashed her feet together, with more of the thin cutting cord. Ignoring her breast and crotch cords - but quietly pleased with the deep maroon colour of her tits and the swollen nature of her lower lips - Bill hoisted Julie over his right shoulder and negotiated the steps down to the warehouse floor. Without pause, the photographer walked through a doorway in the western warehouse wall and into a dank hallway. Julie whimpered quietly and squirmed a little against his shoulder, causing Bill to slap her exposed ass in warning. Taking a turn, the two entered into a large, sickly-yellow coloured bathroom. Dominated by two columns of ten cubicles that backed onto each other, the bathroom still had more than enough room left over for a wide expanse of tiled floor that surrounded the stalls like a moat does a castle. The outer walls of the room each sported one long mirror, which had been mounted above an almost countless array of hand washbasins. What light there was filtered in through half a dozen grime encrusted windows set high on the far wall. This room was the main reason Bill had selected the warehouse he was standing in as the site to carry out his plan. It was perfect for his proposed finale to the day's epic photo shoot. He could already imagine the models muffled sobs as they shuffled across the tiled floor, attempting to best each other and their own suffering for the chance to . . . No, he was getting ahead of himself. There would be time to immerse himself in the fantasy later, after he was well away from this place, and clear of any chance of being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Bill laid Julie down on the floor and, ignoring her muffled groans, walked over to the closet cubicle. Inside, he picked up a black camera tripod and a dark blue sports bag that made a quiet clinking sound as he stood back up. Retracing his steps, Bill placed his equipment to the side and bent down over the helpless model. He ran a fingertip around the sides of her miscoloured breasts and then darted his head forward to bite and suck at her exposed nipples. For a moment, Julie did nothing. But then, as if a power switch had been flicked to on, she began to scream into the cloth filling her mouth and squirm against the cords binding her. Grinning, Bill pulled back from his assault and watched the beautiful woman quake beneath him. His original intent hadn't been to rape either of the women. But as the day had progressed, he'd come to realise that he'd been kidding himself. All that suffering just an arm's length away - and he'd been responsible for it. He'd never felt such a powerful aphrodisiac in his entire life. In fact, he was proud of the fact that he'd made it this far without fucking either of the beautiful bitches. But the time for self-control was now over. He had about four and a half hours to busy himself with Julie - and he wanted to have it all photographed on camera . . . Actual, real live photos of Julie Symmons and Tania Marsters being raped. Bill could not realistically picture the kind of money people would be willing to part with to see those images. Most definitely enough to get him out of the country and set up on some island paradise before an anonymous call was made to the cops, telling them where to find the kidnapped models. Bill slowly unwound the upper bandage from about Julie's face, noting with satisfaction that it was wet with her tears. He watched as her hazel eyes blinked madly with the first light they had been subjected to in almost eight hours, and then focused their gaze on his face. Wanting her to be able to clearly hear his next words, Bill once again leant forward to prise the wax plug from each of her ears. "Okay Julie, it's time for your next position. It's not as strenuous, but if you fight me, I'll make it as hard for you as I can. Do you understand me?" There was a slight pause before the bondage model gave a mute nod. "Good. Now let's get you up and over to the wall there." Bill quickly untied Julie's legs and after rubbing the circulation back into her lower limbs, helped her to a standing position. She trembled in his grasp, but made no move to escape. "You're doing very well, Julie. Keep co-operating and everything will be fine." He spent the next five minutes retying Julie into his pre-planned position. First, he led her over to the closest wall so that she stood facing her bound and gagged reflection. Upon seeing herself, the bondage model began to again sob quietly. Ignoring her reaction, Bill reached into the sports bag and pulled out a four foot length of wood that was in fact the handle from an old broom. This was followed by two six foot lengths of rope and one twenty foot length that had been neatly wound up and tied into a neat rope ball. He spread Julie's legs wide and then used the two smaller lengths of rope to lash her ankles to the ends of the broom handle. A pair of scissors were next out of the bag and used to cut through the twine binding his victim's elbows and running through her crotch. Her relief was obvious, but short lived as Bill took the longer length of rope and attached it to the cord binding her wrists. He threw the other end through an overhanging roof support and pulled the slack through until Julie's arms were slowly being raised. The model tried to voice her distress about what was occurring, but was actually helpless to do anything other than bend forward as Bill continued to pull on the rope. Finally, when her entire weight was resting on the tips of her toes and her bound breasts were pointing straight down at the floor, Bill ceased tugging on the rope and tied it off to the metal frame of the closest cubicle. He turned back to face the bound model - sarcastically comforting words forming on his lips . . . but stopped cold at the sight before him. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine so perfect an image. A beautiful woman bound in a stringent strappado, her calves trembling as they tried to support her entire weight, her breasts almost purple from the cords wrapped their base, her mouth gagged to virtual silence. Bill knew that he could die now and be a content man . . . . . . If only he could sample this perfection "first-hand". Hurriedly, Bill removed another item - his automatic camera - from the sports bag and attached it to the tripod. He set camera and its mount up about ten feet away from Julie along the same wall that she was bound, and framed the shot so that nothing higher than his chest would be caught on camera. As he set the timer to shoot off a shot every twenty seconds, Bill glanced up to see Julie looking over at him - an expression of pure torment on her face. "That's it," he cried. "Hold that pose." He snapped off a shot, and then another before the model turned away. "Fuck that was perfect!" He finished his adjustments to the camera, but before pressing the "Operate" button, paused to unbutton and unzip his jeans. His breathing was fast and shallow. "Okay Julie, let's see if you taste as good as you look." The tormented model whimpered and shook her head in a wide-eyed protest. Bill thumbed the final "Record" button on the camera and started toward her, fully aware that no moment in his life would ever again match this . . . ***** High up above the warehouse floor, Tania hung in pure agony. Such was the pain from her shoulders, hips, elbows and breasts that she could barely think about anything else. With the one exception of time. Tania had heard the expression "time is relative" before, but had never given it more than a passing thought. Now she was sure she understood the phrase in a very personal way that few could claim to have experienced. It felt like she had been tied in this position for a week. Every minute that crawled by felt like an hour. And yet, she suspected that she'd been suffering for less than ninety minutes. One thing that she WAS sure of, however, was that she was not going to make it to the six hour record set by Julie. No way in hell. Her body would give out way before then, and if by some miracle it didn't, she suspected she'd go insane from the constant mind-numbing pain. Tania had already sworn that Bill the Photographer (Jesus, she hadn't even known his last name before accepting the job and his money) would pay for what he was doing. If it was the very last thing she did, she would make sure of that. No matter what. In fact, before the pain had become too much for her, she'd come up with a few interesting ways to suspend a man by his shaven balls . . . A scream unlike any she'd ever heard - be it in real life or on the movies - echoed throughout the warehouse like a clap of thunder. It was a scream of absolute pain, horror and humiliation all rolled into one, and - even in her current position - it sent a shiver down Tania Marsters spine. Until that moment she would have sworn she was the in the worst position imaginable. But now she knew differently. If that scream was anything to go by, whatever Bill was doing to the woman he'd called "Julie" was ten times worse than what she was enduing here. She listened in gagged anticipation for any replying sound or follow-up scream, but none was immediately forthcoming. So, with a newfound determination and clarity of mind, Tania's long ago numb fingers set about fumbling with the knots holding her captive. There were now two things that she was sure of. The first was still that she wasn't going to last six hours tied like this; and the second was that she was going to escape before Bill decided to do to her what he was currently doing to Julie. ****** To begin with, the escape attempt had only added to Tania's suffering. She'd pulled, stretched, strained, grunted, groaned, wailed, shook and perspired all to no avail. In fact, the only thing she had achieved was to rub her wrists so raw against the cord binding them that they'd begun to bleed. At first, Tania hadn't even known what the warm, wet patch pooling in the small of her back had been. And then she had tugged for the hundred thousandth time on the cord binding her wrists and a stab of fresh agony had briefly replaced the numbing pain emanating from her upper (and, for that matter, lower) limbs. Biting down hard on her combination ball-and-panty gag, Tania had ridden the wave of agony in enforced silence before once more slumping in her bonds. She'd decided right then that it was hopeless - absolutely, positively, fucking hopeless. She was never getting to get loose and that meant she was probably going to end up buried in a shallow grave that she'd been forced to dig for hersel- NO Tania still wasn't sure where that inner voice had come from. She'd certainly never heard it before. It was almost as if someone else had taken control of her thoughts and was commanding her to act - but in the process, had left no room for her usual selfish whinings. So she'd gone back to work on her bonds, totally ignoring the constant needles of pain from her savaged wrists, choosing instead to focus on her eventual escape and all that it could entail. Unfortunately now, almost an hour later, Tania was no closer to escaping than she'd been upon first hearing that commanding voice. At least, that was the thought racing through her mind, as she yet again pulled hard against the cords about her wrists. And felt them give a fraction of an inch. "Mmmgghhff!" Unable to quell a muffled squeal of surprise, Tania hurriedly went to work on the bindings. She tugged and twisted her wrists, feeling the cord slip a little further with each painful movement. It was the blood, she realised. The blood from her own torn wrists was acting as a lubricant and was allowing her to - Without warning, Tania's right hand suddenly popped free of the cord binding. She was halfway through thinking "Thank God" when her left wrist slipped free and almost instantaneously her bound feet dropped away behind her. The rope around her chest constricted suddenly for just a moment, and then that too was evidently giving away because there was nothing further impeding her fall, and she was plummeting the ten feet toward the iron catwalk . . . ***** Bill paused in his efforts to silence Julie's already muffled screaming. Had he heard something? He couldn't be sure, but it had sounded like a crate falling over. For a second he considered investigating, but then Julie screamed again and almost squirmed out of his grasp, causing Bill to re-focus his attention on her. Tightening his grip on the model's hair, he pulled her head back sharply and again attempted to stuff the dirty rag he held into her mouth. She gritted her teeth against the intrusion, obviously concerned by the fact that he'd already managed to stuff one rag into her oral cavity and had plans for a second. Bill smiled, quietly impressed that the girl he'd just raped for near on three hours was still showing some spirit. But he couldn't have another repeat of the scream she'd uttered when he'd ungagged her earlier. He'd wanted images of her terror-stricken features for all to see, and that had meant freeing her mouth. Unfortunately, Julie's scream had shaken even him, and he'd had to re-gag her in a fairly makeshift manner while he continued to fuck her from behind. But now he wanted her silenced much more effectively. In fact, he wanted her silenced just as effectively as he'd bound her. Using only the cruel cord that had already serviced him so well, Bill had re-tied Julie's elbows so that they were locked together without an inch of room between them. Then he had untied her wrists and pulled them forward until they were pressed against her waist. He'd pinned her hands in place by wrapping more of the cord around her stomach and cinching them tightly. That cord had then been used as an anchor for another crotch-cord that he'd tied tightly enough to ensure that every breath Julie took was a short exercise in suffering. Finally, he'd crossed and bound her ankles, making sure that the cord was cinched tightly enough to cut into her skin should she try to escape. Tiring of the game he was playing, Bill pulled Julie upward by her hair, and as she opened her mouth to utter an involuntary scream, stuffed the second rag behind her teeth. Swiftly, he gathered up a roll of grey duct tape and wrapped it about the model's head before she could tongue either of the rags out of her mouth. He kept on wrapping until he'd done three complete turns of her head, not caring how much of her once lustrous hair he caught in the process. Finally satisfied with his efforts, Bill threw down the remaining tape and sat back. He watched as Julie stole a fearful glance at the hundreds of tacks he's tossed across the bathroom floor moments before binding her. All together they covered an expanse of about 40 feet between where they now crouched beside the first cubicle and the far wall. "You're looking at the day's finale." Bill said quietly. "A race between you and Tania out there." The bondage model's eyes widened as she turned to stare at Bill. "Mmmggff!" "Don't worry about it just yet, Julie." Bill glanced at his watch. "We don't get to that stage for another couple of hours yet. Before then, I have to choke cord you to the cubicle here, and then rape Tania just like I fucked you." He paused to consider his words. "Well, maybe not JUST like you. The camera does love variation, after all." Julie shook her head violently and tried to say something through her the reams of tape over her mouth. He was feeling a little spent and wanted to save his last four rolls of film for Tania's rape and the final race, so he decided to furnish his victim with a little more detail on the latter. "Calm down there and let me explain." Bill stood up and walked over to stand amongst the thumbnail tacks. "You and Tania will start from where you are now. You'll both be tied just like you, to make the race fair. The idea is to get to this far wall," Bill walked over to stand at the end of the tack field,"before the other person does. How you do that, is up to each of you. Do you try and knee-walk your way through the tacks, or do you slide forward on your stomach? I suspect the former will be much faster, but also much more painful - so it's a tough decision. Especially when you consider what happens to the loser." This time Bill paused both for dramatic effect and to reach for the ten inch hunting knife sitting in it's sheathed belt attachment behind his back. "She gets gutted with this." He watched with satisfaction as Julie stiffened in shock. He wasn't really going to kill the loser - at least he didn't THINK he was going to - but he did want both of the women properly motivated when it came time to race. "And the winner? She gets found by the police, bound and gagged in the most humiliating position possible. But at least she gets to live." Bill laughed quietly. "Quite an incentive, wouldn't you say?" Julie "Mmfgghhmm"ed a tearful response which only made him laugh more loudly. "Or maybe you wouldn't say." Ignoring her further muted protests, Bill walked back to stand over his first victim. "For now though, the most pertinent issue revolves around what I'm going to do with you to pass the time." he bent down and the knife darted through the air to touch against Julie's jugular. In response, the model froze and closed her eyes. Bill felt himself growing hard - which was something of a surprise given his earlier exploits. He debated fucking her again, but this time without having to worry about pleasing the camera. Sliding the knife down Julie's upper chest, he paused with the point over her right nipple. She moaned softly, causing his mounting erection to stiffen further. On yes, there was no way he was done with this bitch just yet. "Don't fret, Julie. I'm not going to cut you." He sheathed the knife and pushed her down on the cold tile floor. She opened her eyes and stared up at him fearfully. "But I am going to fuck you. Again." Rather than reacting with predictable head shakes and muted protests, Julie's gaze flicked up and past Bill to stare at something beyond his left shoulder. He was considering turning to see what had caught her attention when something cold, hard and very sharp tore through his spinal cord and exploded out of his stomach in a spray of dark, dark red. Bill grabbed at the cold, hard and sharp something, realised it was actually the pointed end of a tyre iron, and then realised no more. ***** Tania could hardly draw breath as Bill pitched slowly to the side. She expected him to rear up at her at any second. She was almost sure of it, in fact. But instead he lay completely still as a pool of dark red blood expanded slowly around him. The bound woman, whom Tania now recognised without the blindfold as Julie Symmons, scuttled away from Bill's motionless form as fast as her bonds would allow her. She moaned a gagged plea in Tania's direction, evidently desperate to be free of the horrible cords. Tania could understand that desire all too well. She'd landed on the iron catwalk hard enough to knock the wind out of herself, but not to do any permanent damage. Nevertheless, all she'd wanted to do was lay on the hard mesh and recover for about ten hours before even attempting to move. That inner voice, however, had had other ideas. GET UP HELP HER And then, most surprisingly of all: KILL HIM Although Tania doubted her ability to actually kill another person, there seemed little arguing with the voice. So slowly, she'd begun the ten minute process of untying herself. Her legs first, which she'd only been able to reach through much straining - thanks to the painfully tight cord that still held her elbows together. But she wasn't about to start picking hairs. If Bill hadn't rigged her suspension up in such a way that all the ropes were connected to one another, she'd still be hanging up there, hands free or not. The ball gag she'd been unable to reach, and she hadn't wanted to risk climbing down the ladder to the warehouse floor with her arms all but held behind her. Instead, she'd found a rough edge of the iron hand-railing and rubbed the thin cord against it in an up-and-down fashion. The cord had snapped surprisingly fast, and Tania had finally been able to pull the hated gags from her distended mouth. Being able to swallow for the first time in many hours had been like a gift from heaven - even if every muscle in her body ached like she'd been beaten with a sledge hammer. Climbing tentatively down the ladder, Tania had almost immediately spied the tyre iron leaning beside the exit door. For just a second as she'd limped over to retrieve it, she'd considered limping right through the door and on to seek help. But the thought of the other woman in such distress had stopped her. She'd been doubly glad of her decision a minute or so later when she'd paused by the doorway to the bathroom and listened to Bill's plans for Julie and herself. Cold dread had settled in the pit of her stomach. It was abundantly clear that the man was completely insane. She'd snuck up behind him, intending to knock him out (despite what she'd been told) with one hard blow across the back of the head. But at the last instant, the voice had whispered to her again, and this time it's command to kill had been very compelling. So compelling that she'd changed her grip on the tyre iron and thrust it straight at Bill's back as hard as she could. The voice had simply said: HE'LL KEEP COMING BACK FOR YOU As Tania finished peeling the tape off Julie's mouth and helped the other bondage model prise the oily rags from her mouth, she realised that she held no guilt over killing another human being. "Thank you," croaked Julie. "Oh God, thank you." But maybe that was because she hadn't killed another human. To Tania, Bill was equal parts monster. ***** The photos and their copyright sold for more money than she'd ever imagined possible. Even after splitting the profits with Julie right down the middle, Tania still had enough money to start her own bondage studio. There was a market out there that remained to be cornered, and she knew that she now had a better idea of what to produce than else anyone else in the business. She wanted to call her new studio "Suffer TM". And she wanted Julie to be a partner in the business. That way she could do the majority of the early photography, while Tania herself did the modelling. With time, they could switch and perhaps even hire other girls to create multiple distress storylines. And, of course, all the shoots would have the common theme of real models suffering through position after position of unbearable bondage. Not that Tania expected Julie to sign on without some drawn-out "convincing". After all, the other model hadn't been lucky enough to find her own true voice during the ordeal they had suffered through together. The voice that was very clear when it came to the advantages of torturous bondage. Tania was going to help her new friend find that voice. Even if it took some extensive "convincing".
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