## Charlaine, under the hammer

Post by lasse672000 » Mon May 13, 2013 5:08 am

The door-bell rang.
15-year old Charlaine, dressed in a pair of homemade, beige, three-quarter length plush-trousers with an elastic-band sewn into the waist and leg-openings, and a white, frilly short-sleeved blouse, opened.
It was her best friend Sandra, whom looked quite a bit worried. In fact, it looked as if she was close to panic. She was dressed in a white knee-length, short-sleeved cotton frilly dress, with strawberries. Both girls had waist-long, dirty-blonde hair, for the moment held back from their faces with pink silk-ribbons, tied together with large bow-ties on top of their heads, ankle-socks and sandals.
Charlaine invited her in, but before she had the chance to close the door, a man burst in, the lower part of his face hidden by a scarf. He held what looked like a very large knife in his hand. It was only then, that Charlaine noticed that Sandra had her hands behind her back; she was handcuffed.
“Put your hands behind your back, and don’t say a word,” the man hissed.
Terrified of the knife, she did as she was told, and he cuffed her hands.
Then he put the knife away in an easy-to-reach place, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of the apartment.
“We are going on a little trip!” he said, still hissing.
Charlaine had instantly recognized the man as being her boyfriend John; what she for the life of her couldn’t work out though, was what he thought he was doing!
“What do you mean by ‘going on a trip,’” she wanted to know. “You’re way too young to have a drivers’ licence, and you know it, John Farnham!”
Sandra looked at her, with eyes the size of saucers. “You know this guy?”
“’Cause I do; and so do you.” Charlaine snorted. “And don’t you dare tell me, you couldn’t even recognize your own brother straight away?”
The siblings looked at each other, and John took out a key, which he used to unlock the cuffs around Sandra’s wrists.
“Hey! What about me, dafty? Aren’t you going to take my cuffs off?” Charlaine hollered.
He gave her a sceptical look. “Not if you keep hollering and giving me names like that, I’m not,” he said. “Not any time soon, anyway!”
He and his sister grabbed Charlaines’ arms and led her outside to a waiting car. They pushed her, kicking and screaming, into the back-seat, and Sandra opened the opposite door, climbed in and sat beside her.
“I’m so sorry about all of this!” she said, looking not at all sorry, but instead grinning widely as she inserted a rag into her best friends mouth, and tied a scarf around her head. She tied another scarf around the head as a blindfold.
Charlaine could only growl in response.
When the car stopped, the door opened and she was pushed outside. She tried to identify any sounds which might give a clue as to where she was, but there was nothing except the wind blowing, and the occasional twitter of birds.
After having been forced to walk a couple of steps, she was pushed to the ground. She leaned back and found she had a pole or the trunk of a smooth tree behind her back. A chain was wound a couple of times around her waist, and whatever it was she had behind her. A closer inspection with her hands revealed it was some kind of metallic-pole. She could hear it being locked together in front of her. Her ankles were cuffed, and when she tried to pull them towards her, and found she couldn’t, she realized they had also been cuffed to some sort of pole.
She was still furious. Yes; she and John liked to play TUG: s as much as any kids their age, but she had never known him to be this mean! And making his sister a part of it, (albeit an unwilling part) was almost too much to handle. These games should be played in the safety of your own home, not in the middle of the flipping forest!
She heard John tell Sandra to tell the driver of whatever vehicle they had arrived in, that everything was under control, that he could leave and come back a couple of hours later.
Suddenly, Charlaine remembered it was the one-year anniversary of them being girlfriend/boyfriend.
Slowly the anger gave way to excitement. O.K, so it still didn’t explain everything, like what they were doing out in the forest, and Sandra’s involvement in all of it, but she didn’t really care anymore; her wonderfully lovely boyfriend John had a surprise for her, and she was so ready to accept it!
When it finally came, she found she was anything but ready to accept it.
Having been forced to sit still for so long had made her doze off. However, she quickly woke up, when she heard John and a strange man talking, the stranger having a deep voice and some sort of sluggish country-accent.
“Is this ‘er?” she heard the man saying, and her boyfriend telling him it was.
“The lass look to be on the thin side, she does.” the man complained. John told him she was as strong as a horse.
“I don’t really care ‘ow strong she is, as long as she ain’t stubborn as a mule,” the man muttered, “and as long as she can cope with what I have in mind for ‘er. And frankly, I don’t think she can.”
“Well, you don’t know what you’re missing! There are other people who are more interested than you seem to be!” John said; the disappointment clearly heard in his voice.
“Yea; well I might be interested in a few years time, but not now.”
Sometime later, John came with another man, who seemed to be the direct opposite of the first one. This one had an almost bird-like voice, in that it was high-pitched, almost shrill, and not at all sluggish, but short and crystal sharp.
“A-ha; yes; a-ha; m-hm; yes; yes, I see,” she could hear the strange man say, as he moved around her, every once in a while pinching her hard in the cheeks, on the arms, stomach and legs. Being chained to the poles, there was little she could do to escape the sleaze-bag, who in the end said he wasn’t interested in her, him too giving the reason she was too much on the thin side for his taste.
It wasn’t until then it dawned on her; the bastard was trying to sell her off like cattle!
A few more “buyers” came and went, before she heard someone saying he was actually willing to take her. By then her excitement over celebrating their anniversary had disappeared completely, and now she just wanted it to be over.
The chain round her waist was unlocked, and then reused as a lead, as one end of it was locked around her waist but not the pole. Her legs were finally released from the pole, or whatever it was they had been attached to, and her wrists uncuffed and recuffed behind her back. She was told to stand up, her ankles were cuffed again and she was led outside and into the back-seat of a much smaller car, than the one she had arrived in.
She slumped back in the seat, as much as her cuffed hands and the seat-belt allowed, and sighed. Whatever the future had in store for her, one thing was certain; she would never, ever, go back to John again!
Whazzzz up!.

### Re: Charlaine, under the hammer

Post by pack1e » Mon May 13, 2013 6:33 am

Nice story!

### Re: Charlaine, under the hammer

Post by lasse672000 » Wed May 15, 2013 4:47 am

“So, you’re Charlaine, are you?” the man, who had just bought her, and who now was busy driving the car, asked. He had a warm, melodic, almost hypnotic voice, devoid of all traces of an accent, of any kind.
She nodded, and he asked her if she had made the trousers herself. Once again, she nodded. He then asked her if she had been through this before, a question which she answered by violently shaking her head, and growled. What kind of a girl did he think she was?
“Don’t worry,” he said, “neither have I. Together we’ll find a way through all of this, you’ll see. You just do as you’re told, and we’ll get along splendidly!”
He stopped the car, got out, came round to the back door, opened it, and took her blindfold off, before taking the gag out and releasing her hands, only to recuff them in front of her.
“There;” he said,” that’s much more comfortable, isn’t it? I’m James, by the way, but you can call me Jim, if you want to.”
When she noticed the gag being taken out she, just for a second, thought of screaming, but when she looked around, she saw he had parked the car at an abandoned service area.
Instead, she thanked him, and asked where they were going.
“We’re going to my farm, where you’ll be put to good use.” As that was all he told her, she realized she just had to wait and see what fate had in store for her.
Eventually, he stopped the car outside a very big and very old two-story farm-house.
“Ah; home, sweet home,” he sighed and turned to her. “Right, Charlaine; as of now, you can consider yourself a free girl, but with restrictions, which of course means you’re not totally free. In fact, your freedom only goes as far as the chain I’m going to hook you up to can reach.
As you can see, we’re miles from anywhere, so there’s no point in you trying to run away, because I’ll catch you, probably even before you reach those trees over there.” He pointed at a small cluster of trees, on the other side of a field.
“But to make things a bit more comfortable for you, I’m going to put you in this,” he produced an adjustable, lockable leather-belt,” to which I’m going to attach the chain. As you probably realize, the mere fact that it is adjustable as well as lockable makes it impossible for you to get out of it on your own, so please; don’t even try. I will be able to see if you’ve tampered with it in any way.
He locked the belt tightly around her waist, hooked the chain to it and led her inside. There, he hooked it to a rail in the ceiling, going all around the ground floor. He put cuffs on her with a longer piece of chain between them, so she would have an almost normal freedom of movement.
“Your place during daytime will mostly be in the kitchen. I do hope you can cook at least something? Otherwise you’ll just have to start studying the cook-books, right away.”
“So, I’m a kitchen slave now, am I?” she asked. “Very well, I do know how to cook some things, I can make a decent cup of coffee for instance, and as far as the rest; I will just have to learn, won’t I?” she said, bitterness shining through in her voice.
“Well, you’d better!” James said. “But this is only temporary, to see what you’re capable of. You will be placed somewhere else in a few weeks time to test, or maybe develop, other skills.”
He left her to get used to her new surroundings.
The weeks that followed in James’s house, Charlaine learned more household-skills than she’d learned until then. She learned how to prepare and cook food she had scarcely heard about before, and how to serve them neatly at the table while being cuffed.
She also found James to be a fairly nice man who let her do as she pleased, ‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.’ He also gave her a couple of long-sleeved, ankle-long, black plush dresses, each with several lace-petticoats. The clothes she had worn on her arrival, he burnt.
“I don’t think you’ll ever wear clothes like that ever again, anyway,” he told her, when she asked what had happened to them.
He put her to bed fairly early those nights he wasn’t entertaining. He had given her a cubby-hole at the top of the stairs as her own, where he had put a bed, onto which he had put wide, heavy, lockable leather-straps at both ends, and a wide, heavy, lockable leather-belt in the middle. This meant she was more or less completely unable to move around at night, but she soon learned how to relax enough to get a goodnight’s sleep, anyway. And, although she was cuffed every day and all day she was only ever forced to wear a gag, when there were visitors. Otherwise, the gag was an optional extra. When she wasn’t gagged, they spent much of the day chatting.
Slowly, but surely, she actually began enjoying being a part of James’s house-hold.
That’s why it came as such a chock, when he one day announced, when he had strapped her in bed:
”I have taught you as much as I can. You have been good and studious, and tomorrow you will be transported to another place to learn, or maybe hone, other skills. I hope you will be as studious there as you have been here.”
She went to sleep, big tears rolling down her cheeks.
Whazzzz up!.

### Re: Charlaine, under the hammer

Post by lasse672000 » Wed May 15, 2013 11:43 am

15-year old Charlaine, dressed in black plush dresses, and several petticoats
The next morning Charlaine, as usual dressed in a wide, black long-sleeved dress, made and served breakfast, while big tears rolled down her cheeks.
When she had put it on the table, James asked her why she was crying.
“I don’t want to leave here!” she sobbed and looked down at the floor. “I have had such a good time, despite in effect being your property!”
He went over and gave her a big hug, and stroked her over the head.
“There, there,” he said, in an effort to console her, “if it makes you feel any better, I know where you’re going next, and if you want to, I can come and visit a couple of times.” He put a finger under her chin, lifted it up, and looked her deep in the eyes. “Would you like that?”
Still sobbing she nodded, put her cuffed hands over his head, and gave him a hug.
“Yes please,” she whispered, “I would like that very much.”
Around noon, it was time for her to prepare and serve their last lunch together. She had just started, when James told her there were going to be two more people at the table; the people who she was going to live with, for the next few weeks, and whom she already had begun to think of as ‘her new owners’.
She had just finished cooking, and had started carrying out the various pots and plates to the table, when the door-bell rang. She heard James open the door, and say:
”Welcome! I think she’s just about ready with lunch.”
He came into the dining-room, holding a ball made of hard rubber, which had long straps attached at either end. She opened her mouth and he put it in, tying the straps together behind her head. With the ball in her mouth, she could just barely close her mouth, and the potential for drooling was great.
“Right,” he said, “here’s what’s going to happen. I am now going to take you cuffs off, and instead tie you to a chair in the kitchen. The three of us are going to have a nice, long lunch. When that is over, I will come in and free you from the chair, tie your hands back together in front of you, and put a hood over your head, so you will be unable to see who they are, until you get to your new home.
I have packed all your clothes for you and the suitcases are now being loaded into their car. I have given you a present, and put it in one of the suitcases. I will be in contact with them from time to time, and will be very disappointed if I hear you’re not using what’s inside the package.” He put a finger under her chin, and again lifted her head, which once more forced her to look him in the eyes. “Do you understand what I am saying?”
She started sobbing again, but bravely nodded. He made her sit in the chair, removed the handcuffs and ankle-cuffs and put them in a drawer.
“That’s strange,” she thought, as she watched him. “I actually miss being cuffed! Who would have guessed that? I certainly wouldn’t.”
Obediently, she put her arms over the back of the chair, and he crossed her wrists and tied them together snugly, before tying a second rope around the back of the chair and her waist. Then he bent down, and tied her ankles individually to the front-legs of the chair before leaving her alone.
When he came back, he had two pouches in his hands. He untied her from the chair, crossed her wrists in front of her and tied them together. Then he put the smaller of the two pouches over her hands, and tied it place.
“This,” he explained, “is so you can’t take the hood off.” He took out a pair of earplugs from his pocket. “I’m going to put these in your ears, so you won’t be able to hear their voices. I want their identities to be a surprise for you.”
He carefully put the plugs in place, put pieces of tape over her ears to make sure the plugs didn’t fall off, and gave her a sad smile, before covering her head with the hood. He gave her one last hug before leading her outside, and helping her get into a car.
The ride was bumpy, and although sitting between two people, Charlaine soon became exhausted from trying to keep her balance all the time.
She was relieved when it was finally over, and she was helped out of the car.
However, when the hood was taken away, she was chocked. In front of her stood none other than her own parents, who looked just as chocked as she was!
By the way his lips were moving she could see her father was saying her name. Her mother reached up, and took the pieces of tape and the earplugs away. But when she wanted to take the gag out, her daughter shuddered.
“What’s the matter, dear?” her mother asked. “Don’t you want me to take the gag out?”
Charlaine shook her head, and her mother sighed.
“And I suppose you want to be treated like you were, when you lived with James, bed-straps and all?” she asked, and Charlaine nodded.
“Very well, then. From now on I will try to teach you everything you need do know, and we will try to treat you like he did. Is that O.K?”
Once again, her daughter nodded.
Whazzzz up!.

### Re: Charlaine, under the hammer

Post by Plueschbabycd » Wed May 15, 2013 11:36 pm

very good story. I hop her parents hold thy word.
Andrew
"Don´t dream it, be it." Dr. Frank N. Furter in Rocky Horror Picture Show