The Hostage Swap That Went Wrong

*This story contains bondage and humiliation. Reader discretion is advised.*

Charlotte was a hostage negotiator, and for that you needed a good sense for trouble. And this situation had trouble written all over it. The kidnappers had the mayor, and she feared for his safety.

"Why don't you swap the hostage?" she said in what she hoped was a persuasive tone. "Why don't you let me take his place? I'm just as valuable and much prettier."

"You? Are you crazy? You're the toughest cop in New York. You'd kick the shit out of us and then arrest everyone here."

"Well... what if I was wearing handcuffs? I wouldn't be able to kick the shit out of anyone. I'll get my partner to cuff me and come to you like that."

"With the key hidden up your sleeve? No way."

"Okay, I'll strip to my underwear."

"I don't trust handcuffs."

"I'll have myself bound with rope then."

"You'll call in backup."

"Bound and *gagged*. Tightly, too. Hand and foot. I'll have to hop. Come on, you'd like to see that, wouldn't you?"

"Well..." The idea wasn't totally unappealing.

"So have we got a deal? I'll be completely at your mercy. I'll strip to my underwear - and it's black lace today, as it happens - have my hands bound behind my back, my legs tied and a tight gag in my mouth. Pretty humiliating, right?"

She knew he was into this stuff. The idea of a powerful woman being voluntarily trussed up and gagged was her trump card.

"Listen, lady, I know how strong you are. I know how dangerous you are. So you hop on over here, by all means, but if we think for a second that you're not 100% helpless we'll send you right back and keep the mayor."

"Deal! And don't worry. I'll be tied up so tight you might not even be scared of me any more."

Charlotte's partner Nick thought it was the worst idea he'd ever heard.

"You want me to do what?!"

"Tie me up, please. And make it secure. Make sure I can't possibly escape. Here, I found some cord you can use."

She was an appealing sight, having shed her uniform and changed into expensive black lingerie. The idea of tying her up suddenly seemed brilliant.

"Oh...kay. So... I tie your hands, I guess?"

"Not in front. Behind my back."

Charlotte turned her back and crossed her wrists helpfully. She smiled encouragingly over her shoulder.

"Come on Nick, never trussed up a damsel in distress before?"

"No."

"There's a first time for everything. Now, loop the cord around my wrists five or six times, but make sure to cinch it in the opposite direction as well. That tightens everything up. Tighter than that. Tighter! You're not going to hurt me, but I need to be helpless!"

Annoyed, he gave the cords a real yank and Charlotte gasped.

"Yes! Good. Jeez, that's tight. Now my elbows..."

A few minutes later and Nick felt his work was done. Charlotte was utterly helpless and looked, he had to say, fantastic. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back, and her elbows had been pushed together and tied too. This changed her entire posture: her tits were pushed forward and she was struggling to stay on her feet. That might have also had something to do with the high heels she was wearing, and the fact her legs were tied together at ankle, knee and thigh.

"You're almost done," she said. "I've tried my best to escape and it's not happening. I'm a totally helpless captive. But I could still call for help, so you need to gag me."

Nick smiled. This just got better and better.

"Now, a handkerchief would... hold on Nick mmmmmph!"

Ignoring her instructions, he had taken off his tie, tied a knot in the centre, and wedged it between her teeth. He tied the cleave gag tightly behind her head, and then mussed up her hair, chuckling.

"You look great like this, darling. My pretty little damsel in distress."

Charlotte looked displeased, but there wasn't much she could do or say. In fact, she was rather enjoying this. The sensation of utter and total helplessness was incredibly hot.

Half an hour later, Nick lifted his bound and gagged partner out of a cop car next to City Hall, perched her on her high heels and took out a megaphone. News helicopters were buzzing overhead, beaming back live footage to millions of viewers across the country.

"Send out the mayor," he called. "We're ready to make the exchange."

Charlotte shivered - it was a cool evening, and she was practically naked - and looked self-consciously at the cameras. They were drinking in the sight that always sold well: a proud and powerful woman, brought down to size. And they were going to love what happened next, she sighed.

She wriggled a little, trying to find a comfortable posture in the painfully tight network of cords encircling her pale body, and failing. She would not be comfortable until she was untied, and she could not see that happening for a long while. Too many people were getting too much pleasure from her bound helplessness to allow her a moment of freedom. How much longer would the terrorists make her wait, trussed up and displayed? How much of a kick were they getting out of her public humiliation?

There was movement at the door and a face peered out.

"She doesn't look helpless," he shouted.

"I certainly am, you idiot asshole," Charlotte yelled back - or tried to. What she actually said, at the top of her voice, was more like "Mmmph smmmumm umph!" The tight and highly effective gag made it difficult to record what she was saying using standard letters.

The man chuckled, and appeared to acknowledge the fact that this degree of humiliation was probably evidence that she really was helpless. But maybe he could push things a little further...

"Take off her bra," he called, "and give her nipples a good hard pinch. I want to see how she reacts."

Nick looked doubtfully at his partner. This was already going too far, and she hadn't even been handed over yet. But she nodded.

"Mmmph ungph gunph," she said, which from context appeared to indicate consent.

Nick pushed down the black lacy cups of the expensive bra, exposing Charlotte's flawless pale breasts and dark erect nipples. She blushed and looked away, but didn't attempt to resist - not that she could have meaningfully resisted anyway. She could almost hear the zoom lenses in the helicopters whirring... but any amount of humiliation was preferable to a hostage dying on her watch.

Nick's fingers closed around her left nipple and gave it a firm squeeze. Charlotte squeaked, and blushed even more deeply.

"Fine, fine," said the man. "I guess she's helpless after all. Send her over and we'll check those bonds. If we're satisfied, we'll send out the mayor."

Nick started to restore Charlotte's bra but the man interrupted.

"Don't worry about that," he said. "Let's give the cameras something to enjoy. Now get hopping, wench."

Charlotte gathered her strength and obediently started bunny-hopping towards City Hall, ankles tight together, wrists immovable behind her back, tits in the air. Her breasts would have been demonstrating prodigious jiggle physics even from within the confines of a bra; now they were the only part of her body that wasn't tightly constrained, they were bouncing around absurdly. The man in the doorway was laughing at this display, and the onlookers she could see were about evenly split between the same amused reaction, and what was obviously intense arousal. She didn't know which reaction was more degrading to her.

She hated being a helpless sex object. Working a beat in New York City was hard enough for a woman, but for a gorgeous piece like her it was almost impossible to be taken seriously. She'd had to prove she was better and smarter and tougher than all the men, and finally earned their respect. And now here she was again: a humiliated damsel in distress. And everyone she'd ever known would be watching on TV.

Finally the ordeal was over and she had reached the man in the doorway. She was exhausted, ashamed, covered in sweat, and for some reason extraordinarily turned on. What was that all about?

"What a charming package," he said loudly, openly ogling Charlotte's tits, ass and legs.

"My eyes are up here, asshole," she said - which came out as "Mmph umph um hmmph, umm hmph."

"Didn't quite catch that, love," he replied, smiling, "but I'm sure it was fascinating. Now let's see how well they bound you. Nice and tight, I hope."

His hands roamed across her mostly naked body, occasionally checking knots but mostly just taking liberties that she was unable to prevent. He was clearly having the time of his life.

"I don't think you'll be escaping any time soon, sweet tits, but we might as well make sure, right? Let me just tighten up a few of these cords."

His fingers moved again across her body, but this time they had real purpose. If there was a millimetre of slack in one of her bonds, he found it and cinched it painfully snug. Charlotte had thought she was tightly bound before, but this was torture.

"Ah! Ow! Does it have to be so tight?!" she attempted to say, but it inevitably came out as a muffled, rather cute and completely incomprehensible series of mmmphs. Her tormentor laughed at this, and smacked her on the ass when he was done.

"Okay," he said, "you're done. And I mean that in the sense of defeated. You belong to us now. You are a trophy, and one we look forward to displaying and admiring for a long time."

Charlotte wriggled and struggled her utmost, and made not one millimetre of progress in escaping the tight cords. She had to admit that he was right. She was thoroughly defeated and completely helpless.

"Send out the mayor!"

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