It was Nick outside, obviously worried that they had been double-crossed. Charlotte's captor looked confused for a moment, then remembered what was happening.
"Oh yeah, that's right. Joe, it's time to go!"
The mayor strolled casually through the door, took one look at Charlotte - bound hand and foot, tightly gagged, tits out - and burst out laughing.
"My word, they sure did a number on you!"
"What the fuck is going on?" Charlotte replied. Or rather, "Mmmph mmm fmph grmph?"
The mayor laughed all the more at this demeaning attempt. "I have no idea what you just said, sweetheart, but I'm guessing you're wondering why you got trussed up and I didn't. It's because I never was a hostage. I'm part of this whole plan."
"MMMMMPPPHH?!"
"I know. Pretty naughty of me. But I had a feeling you'd offer to take my place, and I couldn't think of a better way to get you out of the way. It's not easy to make money in this town with a stuck-up busybody poking her nose where it's not wanted. And we should make some extra cash selling you to the highest bidder when we get bored of you."
Charlotte tried to scream, but the stout gag reduced it to a whimper. Her head dropped, a line of drool running down her chin and on to her breasts. She couldn't believe she'd been outwitted so thoroughly, beaten so easily, and humiliated so completely.
"Get her set up in the main room," said the mayor. "Put her somewhere everyone can enjoy her. And get that webcam set up too. I'd better go and be rescued. See you later, doll!"
With that he swaggered out of the main door. And Charlotte was left in furious, helpless humiliation.
A short while later she had considerably more reason for annoyance. Three of the gang had manhandled her (with little dignity and much fondling) into the largest room of the complex - the conference hall, she supposed it was - and balanced her precariously in the middle of the stage. Strong, tightly knotted cords tethered her ankles to a metal ring embedded in the floor for god knows what legitimate purpose. A noose was dropped and tightened around her throat, and secured to a beam above her head. She wriggled and strained, but couldn't move a muscle: she was immobilised. Nor could she make a sound, the cruel gag stifling her cries into the feeblest mewls and squeaks.
Charlotte was alone on the stage, but the rest of the hall was packed with men and women (but mostly men) of dubious appearance. A few were enjoying the sight of the scourge of crime reduced to the most abject helplessness and humiliation, but most of them were ignoring her. There was also a large camera pointing in her direction, but it didn't appear to be switched on. That was some relief.
In the corner of the room, behind the camera, was a large TV; far more people, indeed, were watching the news on this than were bothering to look at Charlotte. She soon realised why: the mayor - the crooked traitorous mayor! - was being interviewed.
"It was a frightening experience, yes," he was saying. "I was in fear for my life. They might have killed me at any moment. But that comes with the territory, I'm afraid! Someone with my fearless integrity is always going to make enemies."
Charlotte mmmphed ineffectually at the TV. Nobody noticed.
"Oh, her?" he continued. "Yes, I did see her in there quite briefly. I'm not sure she's very good at her job, you know. Was wearing very inappropriate clothing, and didn't seem to be in control of the situation at all! Just a bit dim, I think. Still, it's nice they let bimbos like her have a try at serious police work - I'm just glad her blunders didn't get anyone killed."
This was intolerable. "He's lying! He set me up!" yelled Charlotte. Or rather, "Mmm lmm mmmph! Hmmm smm mmmmph!"
"In fact-" and here the mayor looked directly into the camera and smiled "-I hear that if you Google the phrase 'Charlotte the cop bound and gagged', not that I would condone such things, you can see a live webcam of her predicament right now. It's a humiliating failure for her personally but particularly embarrassing for the police, and I can't see how they can possibly let her keep her job."
With a sinking feeling Charlotte noticed that a particularly pretty young woman was working the controls of the camera, which promptly started showing a red light. The woman stepped in front of the camera, blocking the view.
"Welcome to our-" she glanced at her phone "-five million viewers! I bet you can't wait to see our favourite cop busybody in a little bit of a bind, but she's even more excited to show you what's she's been up to today. Namely, getting herself outwitted, stripped, bound, gagged and secured as our little trophy. So without more ado, here's Charlotte!"
The room had gone quiet, and all eyes in the hall were on Charlotte. A ferocious spotlight came on, lighting her up and making it impossible for her to see anything. But she knew everyone was watching.
"I'm sure she'll escape from this predicament in no time at all. After all, she's the toughest and smartest cop out there, isn't she? Go on Charlotte, see if you can escape."
On the one hand, Charlotte didn't want to give them the satisfaction. But on the other, it really would show them if she could break free, or at least slip a bond or two. So she started to wriggle and twist, testing the bonds, straining harder and harder as she found to her frustration that the bonds were quite inescapable. She flexed with all her might, grunting softly behind the gag, sweating and drooling, sticking her tits and ass out as she contorted her body. But she couldn't break free, or get loose, and eventually she slumped, defeated - slumped as far as she was able, at any rate, the leash around her throat keeping her standing rigidly to attention.
"I guess she's not all that," crowed the pretty woman. "Or maybe we're a bit too good at securing damsels. Because that's what she is now: a pretty damsel in distress. She needs a man to come and rescue her, please!"
There was lots of laughter in the room. Charlotte couldn't stop thinking about how much laughter was going on in homes around the country. And other things.
The woman stepped into the spotlight and started manhandling Charlotte, turning her and displaying her, making sure the camera got an eyeful of her various assets, and of the cruel tight intricacies of her bondage.
"Have a look here," she said. "Charlotte's wrists are bound tightly behind her back in an inescapable reverse prayer: that's where the hands point upwards and the wrists are between the shoulder blades, an extremely uncomfortable position that forces the damsel to thrust her tits forward invitingly-" she turned Charlotte so her front faced the camera "-like this. When we received this particular package we switched to a reverse prayer, just to make her extra helpless and extra humiliated: you have to compromise on the elbow bindings but it's more than worth it.
"And look at this lovely tight cleave gag! Is that a man's tie? I don't know which lucky man got to silence you, but I know everyone that's had to listen to you talk would have jumped at the opportunity. You're used to being listened to, I bet. But I doubt you can make a sound now, can you? Or perhaps some adorable little mmmphs?"
The woman, unseen by the camera, yanked up Charlotte's panties from the back, giving her a wedgie and prompting an outraged string of, sure enough, mmmphs. They were just loud enough to be picked up by the camera but no louder. Charlotte was consumed by humiliation and frustration.
"Charlotte's looking a little tired, but don't worry, we're just getting started. It looks like our viewing figures are up to ten million, so settle in and enjoy the show. Charlotte's not going anywhere."
FIN
