THE BEST LAID PLANS

                          by

                        Watcher


 
It was a relief to get out of the hot Mexican sun.  Though her 
wide-brimmed hat left her face in shade, Monica could still feel 
the heat beating down on her.  And the humidity was inescapable.  
  
The warehouse looked deserted; in fact it appeared as if rust were 
the only thing keeping it together.  All the buildings around it 
were equally run down and shabby.  Long-abandoned, they offered 
what Monica needed most right now -- privacy.  Inside, out of the 
direct sunlight, it was cooler, but the humidity was harder to 
bear.  The air was still and clammy.  She could feel perspiration 
soaking into her light summer dress, but, with some effort, she 
ignored it and squinted at the page she was holding.
 
"Please, Donald," she began, reading carefully from the paper, 
then stopped and took a deep breath.  She was supposed to sound 
terrified, scared out of her wits -- not as if she were asking 
for him to take her shopping.
 
"Please, Donald," she repeated with a lot more emotion and was 
particularly proud of the way she was able to put a quiver in 
her voice.  She had always been a good actress, able to fool 
nearly anyone when the need arose.  "They snatched me from the 
resort.  I don't know where I am, but they said they'd kill me 
if you don't pay them the money they want.  Please, Donald, I'm 
scared.  Give them what they want."  

After a second, she pulled a pencil from her bag and scribbled 
"I love you" after the last line.  That was a nice touch, she 
thought.  It would pull at the heartstrings and make her husband 
open his checkbook all the faster.  She did not really need to 
read it again, since they were her own words after all, but it 
helped steady her nerves.  And thinking of getting all that money 
out of the old miser brought a smile to her face.  Finally, she 
would be free to enjoy the lifestyle she deserved.
 
"Is everything ready?"
 
Jonathan looked up from where he was getting the camera set up on 
a tripod.  He flashed her a smile.  "Everything is set, but I had 
an idea."
 
It took some effort for Monica to keep her smile in place.  She did 
not like it when he got ideas.  Her plan had been worked out in 
detail, and it was too close to the finish now for any changes.  
Still, she had to humour him, at least for a bit longer.
 
"What idea?  It's a bit late to be changing things.  You know how 
hard we worked getting everything set up."

He nodded.  "I understand, but if your husband is as possessive as 
you say, how much faster will he pay up if he thinks that someone 
else is playing with his prize possession?"

Intrigued she frowned slightly.  "What do you mean?"
 
"If I show him an image of you naked and helpless, it should get 
him going and want you back all the sooner."

"Naked?"  She was not sure about that.  The plan had been to show 
her bound to a chair, with a masked Jonathan standing over her, a 
knife at her throat as she read out the ransom demand.

"Exactly," he confirmed with a touch of excitement.  "What man 
could resist the sight of such a beautiful body?"  His own smile 
widened as he ran his eyes over her ripe curves shown to good 
effect in the short, thin, sweat-soaked summer dress.

For a second she hesitated, then Monica nodded in turn.  What man 
indeed?  She may have been born poor, but Monica had used her body 
and the sharp brain behind her clear blue eyes to work her way up 
until she was married to one of the richest men in the U.S.  He 
might be forty years older than her, but she had her eyes fixed 
firmly on his bank balance when she married him.  His birth 
certificate had been a consideration of course.  That much older 
than her, odds were he would die long before her, and she could 
enjoy his money all on her own. 

The only trouble was the old buzzard refused to die and the 
pre-nup meant that she would not see a dime if she left him. 
 
She had to admit it was a good idea.  The sight of her helpless 
and in danger was one thing, but this could be spectacular.  And 
it was not as if this would be the first time that Jonathan would 
be seeing her nude.  He had been no more resistant to her charms 
than her husband had.
 
"Let's do it," she said and felt an excited trill as she slipped 
out of her sandals.  A low whistle of appreciation from Jonathan 
sounded as she lifted the dress off and draped it over a nearby 
machine.  Her bra quickly followed, and then she began to tease, 
dipping the left side of her panties down an inch before letting 
them snap back up and then doing the same with the right side.  

A glance at his jeans and the noticeable bulge there was enough for 
Monica to know she had his attention.  She hooked both hands into 
the sides of her panties and drew them down over her hips and 
bottom, then let them slide down the length of her legs before 
she stepped out of them.
 
"Nice," he murmured.  "You waxed."  With his eyes on her denuded 
crotch, he pulled a length of rope from his backpack on the floor.
 
"Kinky," Monica chuckled as she held out her hands.  A shiver of 
anticipation ran down her spine as she felt the rope coil around 
her wrists.  She was used to using her body and the effect it had 
on men to get what she wanted, but standing naked in a deserted 
warehouse was new, even for her.  It left her feeling exposed and 
vulnerable, emotions she did not normally care for, but, at the 
same time, she also felt a strange thrill. 
 
Jonathan could hardly tie the rope property for gawking at her 
heaving breasts.  When she casually parted her legs just enough 
to give a hint, he stopped entirely for a moment before he took 
a deep breath, muttering, "Business first."
 
Once he had made a secure knot, he led her over in front of the 
camera.  A length of chain ending on a hook had been slung over 
one of the rafters, and Monica let him raise her arms so that he 
could slip the hook into the rope holding her wrists.
 
"It's a little high," she protested.  He shrugged. 
 
Once the hook was in place, she was left almost dangling by her 
wrists.  With her arms pulled up over her head, her body was 
stretched tau.  She had to stand on her toes, unable to rest her 
heels on the ground.  The position did lift her breasts up very 
nicely while emphasising her flat stomach.  Even the feel of sweat 
trickling down over her stomach and into the sensitive triangle 
between her legs was exciting.  
 
"Just one last thing," Jonathan said as he pulled out a scarf and 
tied a knot in it.  "Open wide," he instructed her, holding up the 
makeshift gag.
 
"I can't beg him to pay if I can't speak," Monica pointed out 
with a touch of irritation.  Really, did she have to think of 
everything?
 
"I'll take it out when its time for you to speak," he told her, and 
reluctantly Monica opened her mouth and allowed him to press the 
gag in atop her tongue and then tie it off behind her head.
 
"Comfy?" he asked as he stepped back.
 
"Huhhh," she replied.  The gag did not silence her, but it did 
reduce her ability to speak to muffled moans and grunts. 
 
"I have to say, you look really hot," Jonathan said admiringly. 
 
Monica had never been into bondage.  It required giving up control, 
and she was not a big fan of that.  All the same she could feel a 
growing wetness between her legs, as she stood there exposed and 
helpless.  Even breathing did interesting things to her breasts, 
and she could almost feel the air currents in the old building 
brushing against naked skin that had grown very sensitive.  There 
would be no way the old miser could resist paying to get her back.
 
Jonathan took one long look at her, almost as if he were memorising 
what she looked like, before he turned to his equipment.  He booted 
up the computer, flipped on the light (causing her to sweat even 
more), put on an earpiece-and-microphone set, and reached for the 
camera.  He lifted it from the tripod and began to focus on her 
helpless body.
 
"Ladies, gentlemen.  Welcome to today's auction," he said into the 
small microphone.  "On offer we have a 28-year-old American female, 
a natural blond with blue eyes.  For the rest of her measurements, 
I will let your own eyes tell you everything you need to know."
 
"Huuuu?" Monica tried to cry out.  What was he doing?  This was not 
part of the plan....  And whom was he talking to? 
 
Jonathan ignored her attempt to talk, and, holding the camera 
carefully to keep her in view, he began to slowly circle her.
 
"She is experienced at oral and vaginal sex.  She is vigorous and 
inventive in bed.  She is also an anal virgin."
 
"Oooooona," she cried out louder this time, as she strained to 
twist around so as to track him as he moved. 
 
For the first time, Monica began to feel a sliver of fear.  She had 
been certain she had Jonathan wrapped around her little finger, but 
now uncertainty began to gnaw at her.  She was beginning to realise 
exactly how helpless and vulnerable she was.  Strung up by her 
wrists on the end of the chain, she might as well have been a piece 
of meat at a slaughterhouse.  Naked, even down to her waxed pubes, 
she could not hide any part of her flesh from the camera.
 
"A nice tight little hole there, ladies and gentlemen.  Will grip 
anything you chose to insert real tight.  A ripe cherry just 
waiting to be popped, set in the middle of a particularly fine 
ass."
 
Jonathan came back into view, round to her front, and she tried 
again to call to him.  Again she was ignored.
 
"Just look at those tits," he went on to who ever he was talking 
to. "Fancy resting your head on those soft pillows."  He reached 
out with one hand and squeezed her left nipple, twisting it until 
her face screwed up in pain.  When he finally let go, her nipple 
was red and swollen.  "Highly sensitive and reactive with an 
average pain threshold."
 
Outrage overcame fear, and she tried to kick out at him.  Of course 
the moment her toes left the ground, she cried out in pain, as all 
her weight came onto her bound wrists.  And, without any purchase, 
her body began to sway like a crazy pendulum. 
 
Jonathan stepped deftly out of the way.  "She is feisty, to be 
sure.  This one will need strict discipline and training but...."  
He chuckled softly.  "Imagine the delights in instilling that 
discipline, in training her to your exact requirements."
 
"Nuuu," Monica moaned in a mix of fear and frustration as he 
lowered the camera directly between her legs.  All she could 
do was to try squeezing her thighs together to protect the 
last scraps of her modesty as best she could.
 
"You will note the prominent lips down there."  He fingered them 
adroitly, causing her to writhe uncontrollably.  "A very fine 
filly just ready to be ridden. Over and over and over again.  
Please place your bids."
 
He put the camera back on the tripod, and the little red light on 
top went out.  When he turned back to her, he was smiling.
 
"You must be wondering what is going on," he said while gesturing 
to the camera and laptop.  "You really are a beautiful woman," he 
told her.  "But I got to thinking.  If you were cheating on your 
husband, what's to stop you betraying me?"
 
She shook her head in a frantic negative.  "You like using these," 
as he spoke, he fondled her heaving breasts.  Unlike before, his 
fingers were gentle as he stroked her nipples and caressed her 
breasts. 
 
"And especially this...."  His hand dipped down from her breasts 
to between her legs.  She felt his fingers slide into her.
 
Monica groaned as his fingers played with her pussy, and a gasp 
escaped from her lips that not even her gag could mute when his 
probing fingers found her clit.  Well familiar with her body, he 
knew exactly how to rub and tease best to get her heart pounding 
with pent-up lust. 
 
Had it all been a game?  Some kinky role-play that he had dreamed 
up?  If so, her decision to dump him once she had the money well 
advised.  Never in her life had she been made to feel so utterly 
humiliated and degraded before.  The way he had described her was 
as if she were some prize horse or cow being offered for sale.  
Men normally looked at her with one thing on their minds, but 
he had made her feel like an object, an item to be categorised, 
listed, detailed, and then ultimately disposed of.
 
"But what you really like using...are people.  So I did some 
checking.  Funny, I found only one ticket to Rio...a ticket 
in YOUR name.  And, when I checked with Esteban, he had only 
one set of fake papers prepared...papers for you."
 
Monica shook her head again, but the smile had slowly faded from 
his face, and there was an angry gleam in his eyes. 
 
"I was never going to be part of your future, was I?  You just 
needed me to rip off your husband.  Once you had the money, I 
was going to be left high and dry, while you headed off to Brazil.  
If the authorities or your husband's people came looking, I was 
going to be the fall guy."
 
Jonathan shook his head, then pulled his fingers out, just short 
of bringing her to orgasm.  "So I made another deal...with your 
husband."
 
He let that bombshell sink in for a minute before continuing.  "He 
was upset that you were having an affair, but when he found out 
that you were planning to extort a few million out of him, well, 
let's just say he was very, very angry.  Paid me quite handsomely 
to dispose of you.  Officially you will die in a parachute 
accident; the death certificate is all done, just waiting for the 
local coroner to sign it.  And I get to keep the proceeds from 
your sale, as well.  I should be set for life."
 
Behind him the laptop beeped, and he smiled at her.  "Excuse me a 
minute.  Business calls."
 
Monica was sure her heart was going to jump out of her chest, or 
she was going to sweat until all the fluid in her body pooled on 
the floor.  There had to be some way out of this, but her brain 
was still numb from the shock of being found out.  All she could 
think was that Arthur knew.  Her husband knew, and he had paid 
for her lover and co-conspirator to get rid of her.  To make 
matters worse she had gone along with Jonathan when he tied her 
up naked and helpless in the middle of nowhere.
 
Still leaning over the laptop, Jonathan let out a whistle.  "Honey, 
I never thought you would go for so much.  Now all I have to do is 
transfer the bank details and...."  He tapped several keys, then 
clapped his hands together. 
 
"We have confirmation the money has been transferred to my account. 
And, once I give them your location...."  He typed a quick series 
of keystrokes then stood up.  "All done."
 
With that, he closed the lap top and tucked it into a small 
backpack.  Then he turned and walked over to her.
 
Wide-eyed with fear, Monica could only look at him with a silent 
plea.  Jonathan leaned forward and gently planted a kiss on her 
left breast and then one on her right.  "I'm going to miss these."  
 
He looked up, and, for a moment, their eyes met.  "You're probably 
wondering who bought you and how much your went for.  You will be 
happy to know that you are worth a lot.  They're really going to 
have to work you hard to get their money's worth."
 
"As for the first...."  Jonathan shook his head as he smiled at 
her, but it never touched his eyes.  "I don't want to ruin the 
surprise.  Your owners will be along presently to collect you."
 
With that he turned and stopped just long enough to add the camera 
to his backpack before he headed to the entrance, leaving the light 
on and Monica starkly illuminated.
 
At the door way he stopped and looked back.  For a second, she 
dared to hope that he might have changed his mind.  He had felt 
something for her; she had been certain of that.  Perhaps love 
or lust was making him have a change of heart.  She did not care 
what it was as long as it got her out of this mess.
 
Jonathan raised a hand to his mouth and brew her a kiss, then 
pulled open the door, and stepped into the bright sunlight.  
The dimness returned as he pulled the door closed behind him.
 
Strung up, naked and helpless, Monica could only stare at the door 
where Jonathan had left.  She could not even cry out; the gag saw 
to that.  Even if she could, who was there to hear her?  No, she 
was alone, and, tug as she might at the rope that bound her wrists 
to the chain, there was no escape.  The first sight anyone entering 
the building would be of her, naked, covered in sweat, her mouth 
filled with a sodden gag as she panted, wide-eyed and afraid.
 
Who had bought her?  What would they do to her?  Where would they 
take her?  What did they want her for?  The questions ran through 
her mind over and over, but she was helpless now.  She had 
surrendered control of her fate the moment she had let Jonathan 
tie her up.  All she could do now was wait.  Only time would 
answer her questions.



Edited by C. Lakewood