Kathy Smith's mind was a million miles away as she rode the elevator to the level where she'd parked her brand-new silver Lexus.
She was going over in her mind the final details of the Solange deal, which was almost in the bag. If she nailed it down, and she was certain she would, it would mean a fat commission, plus another feather in her cap. All that was left was to meet the Solange Corporation's CEO later that evening for dinner, drinks and who knows what else, and the deal would be signed, sealed and delivered to her boss's desk bright and early the next morning.
At 34, Kathy was on the fast track in her industry. She had used every trick at her disposal to move rapidly up the corporate ladder since starting out after graduating from college. That especially included her succulent body, which was made to discombobulate men. She was a little taller than average, about 5-9, slender, with perfectly proportioned tits, about a 34C, and a butt with enough meat to grab onto without a hint of flab.
She had used sex to her advantage at every turn, especially two years ago, when she'd seduced a top vice president at her company, then blackmailed him into giving her a key promotion. Then she'd betrayed him anyway, and the resulting scandal had cost Richard Greene his job - which went to Kathy - and his marriage. She chuckled when she recalled his final words to her, when he'd confronted her with what she'd done.
"Kathy, you haven't learned the most important rule of corporate politics," Richard had said, giving her a disconcerting look.
"Which is?" she'd asked haughtily.
"The toes you step on while climbing the corporate ladder may be attached to the ass you'll have to kiss on the way down," he'd said. "Keep that in mind."
Kathy dismissed the memory with a swish of her wavy shoulder-length blonde hair. Fuck him, she thought, that's just business. Just then, she heard the ding that denoted her stop. The doors opened, she picked up her briefcase, got a firm grip on her purse and strutted to where she'd parked.
She frowned as she noticed a nondescript white van parked one spot to the left of her car. At least, they didn't park too close, she thought. She had already pressed the button to unlock the driver's side door and was just starting to open the door when she felt rather than saw two figures come up rapidly behind her. One large man garbed all in black grabbed her around the shoulders and covered her mouth tightly, another grabbed her by her ankles, then a third man grabbed her briefcase and purse from her startled grasp as she was hustled into the open side door of the van.
Kathy felt wild terror grip her as she was laid on her stomach, and she tried to scream, but all that came out was a brief squeak before a strip of duct tape was slapped over her mouth. A tight elastic band was fitted snugly over her eyes, blindfolding her, then her ankles were tightly bound with duct tape, as well as her hands, which were secured behind her back. In less than 30 seconds, Kathy had been snatched up, effectively bound, gagged and blinded. With their subject immobilized, the van pulled out of its parking spot and eased toward the street.
Panic gripped Kathy, but she fought it down in order to bring her sharp mind and keen instincts into play. She tried to concentrate on the turns the van made to see if she could figure out where she was being taken, but the van made so many turns over the next hour that she couldn't keep up with them. And she strained her ears to pick up any voices, but none of the men in the van spoke a word, and the silence quickly unnerved her.
Then she thought about her dinner date with the Solange president, and her anxiety level grew again. She had been entrusted with bringing that account into her firm at all costs, and it would be a severe blow to her reputation as a can-do, get-it-done executive if the account was lost because she'd missed their date. Then, slowly, Kathy began to get a sick feeling in her stomach that perhaps the account and her career were the least of her worries. Her very life could be in danger, and she felt her emotions falling apart, something that hadn't happened since her first boyfriend had broken up with her in high school.
After driving for about an hour, the van came to a stop. The sounds of the city seemed far off as the door of the van was opened and Kathy was carried a short distance. She heard what seemed like a large metal door open and close, then she sensed that she was in a large room. There was a musty odor about the place that wasn't foul, but wasn't pleasant either. And there was the subtle hint of some other smell that she couldn't place, but was vaguely familiar.
Kathy was set down on her feet, which were without her high heels, lost somewhere in the van. The duct tape around her ankles was cut off, shredding her pantyhose in the process. Then the blindfold was removed, and Kathy winced as she was confronted with a blinding spotlight shining right in her eyes from the otherwise pitch-dark room. Then the duct tape was ripped off her mouth, causing her to squeal in pain.
"Please, what are..." she began, but got no further.
"SILENCE!" came a loud, distorted voice from a loudspeaker. Kathy shivered in fear, but there was also indignation beginning to build. Did these clowns not know who she was? Did they not know that no one, not even her own father, treated her this way? She started to speak again, this time to bitch, when a masked man in a long cloak emerged from the shadows brandishing a large knife.
"You were told to be quiet," the voice boomed again. "Another sound out of you, and we'll start cutting."
Kathy was shocked into silence this time, afraid of being seriously harmed. She was beginning to think that she wasn't going to live to see tomorrow, and the man's next actions reaffirmed that belief. He stepped close to her and pressed the flat of the blade to her cheek. He softly caressed her face with the flat part of the knife, then lightly ran the tip of the knife down her regal neck, just enough to scratch, but not enough to break the skin.
Kathy trembled in fear, but the man then walked around behind her, suddenly pulled the jacket of her business suit away from her body and slashed it all the way from top to bottom with what appeared to be sewing shears. The two sides of the open jacket began to fall away, but before it did, the man cut the sleeves lengthwise so that it came completely off her body. Then she watched in dismay as the man systematically cut the jacket into a half-dozen smaller pieces. He did the same to her skirt, slicing it from bottom to top, then cutting it to pieces. Her blouse was next, and was cut from her body in the same manner her jacket had been. The man bent down and cut her pantyhose off, then sliced her bra from her body, finishing with her thong panties. Everything was cut so that it was unwearable and left in a pile of useless scraps.