She came in broad daylight. That’s why Greg didn’t think it was a trick. If you were going to sneak into a fortress like mansion to free the kidnapped slaves there, you would do it in the middle of the night, right? 2 PM seemed counterintuitive enough for Greg to accept it as real, instead of thinking it was another trick.

He had been in a cage. One of the tall, thin ones that forced him to stand up. The crazy bitch (Greg refused to use her title in his mind) liked to keep her slaves weak in the legs when she tormented them. She got a kick out of seeing them wobbling around like a newborn deer. He was naked too.

But after being stuck in one for less than an hour, Greg’s savior appeared with one of his fellow captives in tow.

The woman was tall, her dark brown hair done up in a fictional bun. A real amazon, if her entirely practical outfit of a tactical sweater, army pants, and combat boots was framing her body half as well as it seemed to. She looked like a commando

Beside her was the blonde woman. Another captive. Greg didn’t know her real name, just the nickname she’d been saddled with (he wouldn’t use that in his thoughts either).

She was ungagged, uncollared, and uncuffed at the ankles. Her arms were still shackles to the chastity belt at her waist, and she was still wearing that purple harem girl outfit, but the wild eyed look in her eyes told Greg that she was on the verge of freedom.

The two women freed Greg from his cage. Commando Lady picked his ankle cuffs free, but didn’t undo any of his other bindings or take out his panel gag.

“There’s no time,” the blonde woman whispered with a sad look in her eye.

“No,” Commando Lady’s voice was clipped, her tone demanded obedience that Greg was entirely too accustomed to giving. “Our window is too short, we have to move.”

So they did. With minimal coaxing, the woman led Greg and the blonde woman through the maze of hallways and rooms that made up the mansion, somehow avoiding any of the small team of guards. Greg soon realized that she must have the blueprints to the house memorized.

“What about the cameras?” The blonde asked when they crept out of an old servant’s entrance and onto the lawn. Sure enough, Greg spotted a couple at a glance.

“I have the person in the room tied up,” was Commando Lady’s answer.

She hurried them down the lawn, hiding under the litany of hedges that kept the place out of any passerby’s view. A dozen branches scratched at Greg’s naked flesh. His heart gave a start when he saw the closed iron gate, then leapt for joy when it opened of its own accord at the touch of a screen his savior pulled out. She had access to the house’s security system.

This was it. It was actually it. Months and months of captivity, of constantly being chained up and caged and smacked around and forced to pleasure the whacko who had ‘ordered’ him from some club of psychos were about to come to an end. His arms aches like they hadn’t in months as he involuntary strained against his cuffs.

A van pulled up, then sped away as they piled in. The driver was cut off from them by a glass shield. He (she?) didn’t seem interested in the passengers.

Greg stood on his knees and watched his personal hell fade away into the distance, then behind another big estate when the vehicle turned a corner. He was stunned. Shocked. In some distant corner of his mind he heard the blonde woman whooping in joy and excitement.

He turned around just in time to see their savior shove a new ballgag into the blonde woman’s mouth. It was black, unlike the purple one she used to wear that matched her outfit.

The blonde went wild, screeching and fighting in a blind panic as Commando Lady rebound her legs with a roll of tape
before slipping her ankle cuffs back on, apparently just to add insult to injury. Then she used that tape to further restrain the other woman, bonding her arms to her body and frog-taping her legs.

Greg could only stare, more stunned then ever, as his supposed savior stood in the moving van and turned to face him.

Her eyes went soft with condescending pity. “Oh, honey. Did you think this was a rescue?”

She ignored the still screaming and struggling blonde as she bent down to meet Greg at eye level. Her smile became hungrier, just like... Mistress...  

“No. This was a theft.”

Greg didn’t struggle as she taped up his legs and arms. What was the point?

“Good boy,” the woman said conversationally. She was in the middle of undoing his collar. “I was going to take you months ago. Did you know that? But then that lazy bitch paid someone to take you first.” She patted him on the cheek. “But that’s okay, I love a challenge. And I got a new maid out of it too! She was a big help in finding you, I’m sure she’ll take to her new duties just fine. ”

The blonde woman screamed expletives behind her gag. But their new owner paid her no mind as she pulled out a new collar, leather instead of steel, to go around Greg’s neck.