“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Mr. Ryan growled angrily, pulling the length of black cloth between Sakura’s teeth to dig tightly into the corners of her mouth. “You just had to snoop about where you weren’t wanted!”
“Mmmppgh!” Sakura Minamoto protested into her gag, strands of night-black hair slipping free of her bun in her struggles. Behind her, she could feel Bethany squirming against their bonds, the ropes that bound the two beautiful accountants showing no signs of slackening. The threat of their captor’s pistol had ensured their compliance, and now they sat back-to-back on the lush carpet in his executive office, the coils of rope that encircled their waists and beneath their breasts keeping them pinned together. More bound their wrists in front of them, as well as at their ankles and thighs, and Sakura moaned fearfully as the pistol pointed in her direction, her high-heeled black leather boots squeaking against each other in her futile struggles. “Mmmpggh, mmmpgggh!”
“I should have figured it would be you two,” came Ryan’s growl, eyeing his two captives with equal parts resentment and lust. The fifty-year-old CEO of FutureHome Enterprises had a well-deserved reputation as a demanding employer, a modern-day Scrooge bent on squeezing every last penny’s worth of productivity from his staff, yet neither woman had ever dreamed he’d go so far for the sake of his own wealth. It had been Sakura who first noticed the discrepancy in the company’s publicly reported earnings, and after a month spent quietly investigating the matter with her best friend and co-worker Bethany, uncovered an embezzlement scheme bilking the company of millions. They’d stayed late into the evening, collecting the last bits of evidence to bring the scam to light when Ryan revealed himself to be the mastermind by bursting into their shared office, gun in hand. Now, the greedy CEO seemed intent on adding kidnapping to the eventual list of charges against him, and Sakura flinched as his hand stroked her alabaster features. “You were always a goodie two-shoes, Ms. Minamoto, always sticking your nose in the business of your betters. And you, Ms. Shaw,” he said, curling a fist in Bethany’s long blonde locks, “you never could mind your place, could you?”
“Mmmmmppggh!” Bethany shouted into her own cleave gag, blue eyes full of angry tears. FutureHome’s dress code for its female employees was rather strict, and Bethany groaned in disgust as Ryan’s eyes traced over their bound figures, taking in the curves highlighted by their satin blouses and examining the mid-length pencil skirts and sheer pantyhose both wore. “Grrrgh mmmmpggh mmmmmmmpggh!”
“It’s a shame too. I was planning on bringing the pair of you along when I took the money and went to Cuba,” he gloated, a perverse gleam reflecting in his narrow eyes. A symphony of gagged protests greeted the notion, and his bloated face went red with wounded pride. “What? You two think you’re too good for me?”
The hostages nodded in unison, defiant glares never leaving him. “Fine then!” Ryan bawled, resembling an enraged toddler more than he did the head of a multi-million dollar corporation in that moment. “Stay here and rot then, the pair of you! I’ll be out of the country and out of the Feds’ reach by this time tomorrow!” All but frothing at the maw, the CEO stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the pictures hanging on the wall in their frames, the sound of his endless, petulant ranting lingering long into the distance.
Immediately, Sakura and Bethany intensified their struggles, the air alive with the sound of creaking ropes and muffled, helpless moaning. Come on, Sakura, you have to get out of this! the beautiful Japanese accountant urged herself, a cold chill setting over her despite the warmth of the other woman’s presence. After all, it was Friday evening, and the office was closed over the weekend…