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"Leave Dawn alone!" Emily yelled defiantly for someone being held submissively by her hair.

"Careful little one," the goon warned knotting his fingers a little tighter in her ponytail. She winced, and took the hint. "So this is the famous Dawn Meadows, eh? Well we MUST be up to no good if the likes of her comes sniffing around!" The goon let out a barking laugh to himself. In any other context his joke would not have been funny. Under the current circumstances, the sound of his laughter was frightening.

The goon held the girls in place for several quiet moments, considering his options before he spoke. "Miss Lockwood, I'm going to need you to reach beneath my jacket and fetch the pair of handcuffs on my belt. And before you consider any funny business... be aware that I will tear that pretty red hair out of your scalp if you do."

Emily instinctively began to speak, but the knot in her stomach told her that she would pay dearly for it, so she swallowed the troublesome words. Twisting in his grasp on her hair, she reached with shaking hands beneath his coat, searching blindly until her fingers touched cold metal. Despite her resistance to do so, she clumsily lifted them off the belt and held them out in front of her.

"That's a good girl," the goon praised her obedient efforts. He evaluated the control he had over Dawn, holding her in place. With his free hand, he pulled a leather strap from his coat pocket. Emily tracked it with her eyes, and took a panicked step back, only to find herself held fast by her hair. "Now now, don't be afraid. Take this, and tie it around your mouth," the goon instructed.

"Please, I..." Emily began pleading.

"What did I tell you?" the goon cut her off, reminding her of his warning. Emily lowered her eyes and took the leather strap. With a small whimper, she opened her mouth, biting down on the disgusting object, and proceeded to tie it around the back of her head. "Good!" the goon showered her with more praise. If it had been anything other than this, it could have sounded like something besides revolting.

"Now, use those cuffs, and you see that pipe over there? That one, against the wall? I'm going to need you to cuff your hands around that pipe," he indicated with a tip of his head in the desired direction. Emily's eyes grew wide and her breath came ragged through her nostrils, her mouth stifled by the soiled leather strap.

In an exercise of awkward and afraid participants, the goon moved the group as one unit until Emily was able to handcuff herself with hands behind her back to the rusty pipe running up the wall. After inspecting the work for sufficient security, the goon released his grasp on Emily's long red ponytail. "There, now that's better," the goon commented, happy to have one hand free again. A waive of relief washed over her poor scalp, and the cramp forming in her neck began receding. As she tested her bindings, the sound of metal scraping against metal reminded her that she had traded one bondage for another. She felt her spirits sinking.

"Now to free my other hand," the goon stated. "Unfortunately I only packed one pair of handcuffs." Emily regarded his comments warily, eyeing him with fearful distrust. He reached behind his back and pulled on something tucked into his belt. "Luckily," he said producing a police baton, "I have this."

The goon released Dawn's pinned arm, eliciting a cry from her lips as he shoved her forward. Winding his arm back wielding the baton, he brought it down with savage ferocity, cracking it against the back of Dawn's skull. The sound seized Emily by the sides of her head, making her look, making her listen, as the terror washed over her.

Dawn's eyelids dropped down as all the signals in her brain went black. Her knees buckled, dropping her down to the floor without so much as a finger being lifted to ease her collapse. Hips, torso, shoulders, and arms smacked against the wooden floor, finished by the smacking bounce of her head, gently turning to the side. Awash in her silky golden hair, she was mercifully unaware of the bruising afflicted pain.

The sudden explosion of violence terrified young Emily. Her feet skidded across the floor boards, her flats trying to move multiple directions at once. She was trying to run away, despite being bound in place. Her legs ignored logic, slipping and sliding until she lost her balance all together and toppled sideways, smacking the side of her face into the floorboards. A muffled yelp escaped her gag as her shoulders yanked to severity, tiny wrists held in place by the biting metal cuffs. The hard wood punished her knees where they banged hard upon her toppling. Tears formed at the rim of her green eyes as she tried to find purchase with her flats, feeling them scrape against the wall, uselessly skidding over the floor.

The goon wielded the baton in one hand, playfully giving it a swing while he fished Dawn's cell phone out of his jacket pocket with the other. "Now, let's take a look at what fiction our nosy little reporter has been spinning." he mumbled to himself as he began riffling through her text messages. "Oh, she fancies herself an amateur photographer as well!" he chuckled as he came across the pictures Dawn had hoped to use as evidence in her story. He noted a "failure to send message" notification regarding Dawn's last correspondence. "Oh my! Signal strength is a bit poor in these old buildings. Too bad!" he lamented with a lace of sarcasm as he continued searching the fallen reporter's phone.

From Emily's disorienting viewpoint all she could see were the soles of Dawn's stocking clad feet, and they were not moving. The sight filled young Emily with dread, reminding her all too late the delicateness of their situation, and how bad of an idea this truly had been. This was the kind of real peril that Dawn had warned her about. She suddenly began regretting thinking that packing those emergency pantyhose was going to offer any support at all!

To be continued...

Description

"Leave Dawn alone!" Emily yelled defiantly for someone being held submissively by her hair.

"Careful little one," the goon warned knotting his fingers a little tighter in her ponytail. She winced, and took the hint. "So this is the famous Dawn Meadows, eh? Well we MUST be up to no good if the likes of her comes sniffing around!" The goon let out a barking laugh to himself. In any other context his joke would not have been funny. Under the current circumstances, the sound of his laughter was frightening.

The goon held the girls in place for several quiet moments, considering his options before he spoke. "Miss Lockwood, I'm going to need you to reach beneath my jacket and fetch the pair of handcuffs on my belt. And before you consider any funny business... be aware that I will tear that pretty red hair out of your scalp if you do."

Emily instinctively began to speak, but the knot in her stomach told her that she would pay dearly for it, so she swallowed the troublesome words. Twisting in his grasp on her hair, she reached with shaking hands beneath his coat, searching blindly until her fingers touched cold metal. Despite her resistance to do so, she clumsily lifted them off the belt and held them out in front of her.

"That's a good girl," the goon praised her obedient efforts. He evaluated the control he had over Dawn, holding her in place. With his free hand, he pulled a leather strap from his coat pocket. Emily tracked it with her eyes, and took a panicked step back, only to find herself held fast by her hair. "Now now, don't be afraid. Take this, and tie it around your mouth," the goon instructed.

"Please, I..." Emily began pleading.

"What did I tell you?" the goon cut her off, reminding her of his warning. Emily lowered her eyes and took the leather strap. With a small whimper, she opened her mouth, biting down on the disgusting object, and proceeded to tie it around the back of her head. "Good!" the goon showered her with more praise. If it had been anything other than this, it could have sounded like something besides revolting.

"Now, use those cuffs, and you see that pipe over there? That one, against the wall? I'm going to need you to cuff your hands around that pipe," he indicated with a tip of his head in the desired direction. Emily's eyes grew wide and her breath came ragged through her nostrils, her mouth stifled by the soiled leather strap.

In an exercise of awkward and afraid participants, the goon moved the group as one unit until Emily was able to handcuff herself with hands behind her back to the rusty pipe running up the wall. After inspecting the work for sufficient security, the goon released his grasp on Emily's long red ponytail. "There, now that's better," the goon commented, happy to have one hand free again. A waive of relief washed over her poor scalp, and the cramp forming in her neck began receding. As she tested her bindings, the sound of metal scraping against metal reminded her that she had traded one bondage for another. She felt her spirits sinking.

"Now to free my other hand," the goon stated. "Unfortunately I only packed one pair of handcuffs." Emily regarded his comments warily, eyeing him with fearful distrust. He reached behind his back and pulled on something tucked into his belt. "Luckily," he said producing a police baton, "I have this."

The goon released Dawn's pinned arm, eliciting a cry from her lips as he shoved her forward. Winding his arm back wielding the baton, he brought it down with savage ferocity, cracking it against the back of Dawn's skull. The sound seized Emily by the sides of her head, making her look, making her listen, as the terror washed over her.

Dawn's eyelids dropped down as all the signals in her brain went black. Her knees buckled, dropping her down to the floor without so much as a finger being lifted to ease her collapse. Hips, torso, shoulders, and arms smacked against the wooden floor, finished by the smacking bounce of her head, gently turning to the side. Awash in her silky golden hair, she was mercifully unaware of the bruising afflicted pain.

The sudden explosion of violence terrified young Emily. Her feet skidded across the floor boards, her flats trying to move multiple directions at once. She was trying to run away, despite being bound in place. Her legs ignored logic, slipping and sliding until she lost her balance all together and toppled sideways, smacking the side of her face into the floorboards. A muffled yelp escaped her gag as her shoulders yanked to severity, tiny wrists held in place by the biting metal cuffs. The hard wood punished her knees where they banged hard upon her toppling. Tears formed at the rim of her green eyes as she tried to find purchase with her flats, feeling them scrape against the wall, uselessly skidding over the floor.

The goon wielded the baton in one hand, playfully giving it a swing while he fished Dawn's cell phone out of his jacket pocket with the other. "Now, let's take a look at what fiction our nosy little reporter has been spinning." he mumbled to himself as he began riffling through her text messages. "Oh, she fancies herself an amateur photographer as well!" he chuckled as he came across the pictures Dawn had hoped to use as evidence in her story. He noted a "failure to send message" notification regarding Dawn's last correspondence. "Oh my! Signal strength is a bit poor in these old buildings. Too bad!" he lamented with a lace of sarcasm as he continued searching the fallen reporter's phone.

From Emily's disorienting viewpoint all she could see were the soles of Dawn's stocking clad feet, and they were not moving. The sight filled young Emily with dread, reminding her all too late the delicateness of their situation, and how bad of an idea this truly had been. This was the kind of real peril that Dawn had warned her about. She suddenly began regretting thinking that packing those emergency pantyhose was going to offer any support at all!

To be continued...