" Dirty Laundry"

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esercito sconfitto
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" Dirty Laundry"

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Dirty Laundry

by Gagtech
________________________________________


The beginning of my latest.
It's a little busy around the gagtech house for the next few days but I will try to get some more up soon.
Enjoy...

Dirty Laundry

Arthur Schopenhauer was right. A pillar concept of Eastern thought, the idea regarding the strife of desire had never taken hold in the West. The popular and somewhat controversial, 19th century German Philosopher had hit it right on the head. Desire just seems to multiply itself with the acquisition of the desired item. With desire comes strife. More, more, more becomes the sole answer. It never ends. We lose sight of that which brings contentment, if there is any to be had.

An elderly woman reflected as she sat in the quiet waiting area of a very large hospital ward. It was complete disregard for the principles of the Eastern sages and wise men such as Schopenhauer that had provided enormous wealth and power for this woman. It was the same process that brought emotional emptiness as well.

“It’s all Bull****,” she faintly whispered seconds before one of the nurses came to escort her.

A Smile formed on the face of 61 year old Ivana Zeman as she approached the room of the soul she held most dear, her beloved Nadia. At this point in her life, she would trade her entire empire and all that came with it for her 27 year old niece, a true shining ray of goodness, nearly alone, in a squally sea of deception and violence. Despite Ivana’s positive outlook she knew that Nadia’s future would likely be short. She intended to make the most of it.

As always, Nadia radiated joy as she greeted her aunt. For a woman diagnosed with her disease and probably in her last weeks this was remarkable. That was Nadia Zeman. There was not a person alive who had ever taken issue with her. As Ivana sat beside the bed, Nadia’s jubilant demeanor worked its magic. Within minutes the women were conversing as though the world was a perfect place. They spoke of the usual subjects. Family matters were always a topic. Throughout the conversation, one would have never guessed that the people involved were primarily mobsters. Nadia had never approved of the lifestyle chosen by her family but offered nothing but love and tender care for her many relatives. Throughout her adult life she had respectfully declined any aspect of the family fortune. It was part of her beauty. Her moral makeup would not allow it. Although there were a few siblings and cousins who could never understand this, every Zeman in town would take bullets for their Nadia. This held especially true for her Aunt, the matriarch of it all.

It was over an hour before a nurse notified the pair that the visit would have to end within a few minutes. The visit came to an end with the usual kiss on the forehead and heartfelt goodbyes. As Ivana reached the door she turned for a last look at her niece and noticed an odd facial expression. It seemed to her that discomfort had overcome Nadia.

“What is it honey?” she asked as she looked to the room’s television screen, the apparent object of the young woman’s attention.

“This is terrible,” was Nadia’s response as she snatched the remote control to adjust the volume.

As the older woman returned to her nieces bedside, she became aware that it was some sort of news story that had upset Nadia.

A female news correspondent commented as the women watched the events unfold. It looked like some kind of a robbery gone bad. There were two young women assailants holding four female hostages at gunpoint on the street. The hostages appeared to be two Hispanics, one blonde white woman and a very attractive Asian. Each of the twenty-something women looked to have their arms restrained behind their backs and all four were gagged with black cloth material, over the mouth style. The camera filming the event had zoomed in close enough to provide every detail. All of the captive women wore only their underwear, forced to strip during the robbery it seemed. One Latina was left in white matching bikini panties and bra while the other donned a forest green bra and thong set. The Caucasian women wore only red cheeky boy shorts with a black bra and the Asian stumbled along in a lacy sapphire blue bra and black g-string. Throughout the broadcast the voice over commentator continued to repeat the terms bra and panties and bound and gagged. The tone of the woman’s voice boomed in an almost gloating fashion.

Nadia turned the television off. The presentation seemed at this point, too much for her to bear. While staring into nothingness a tear fell from her eye. Very softly, she said, “How humiliating for those poor women. Why did they have to show the whole world every detail of that? They didn’t even distort the image. I wonder how those news people would feel if it were them or someone that they cared about?”

Ivana took her nieces hand and remained silent in an attempt to calm the young woman. Nadia wiped the tear from her cheek with her free hand and turned to her aunt. In a steady, calm voice she said, “I’d like to see that. Sometime before I go, I would like to see that commentator and her news buddies bound and gagged then paraded around in their underwear… on the news. Yeah, I’d like that.”

The nurse again peeked into the room and seeing her patient in an agitated state, inquired regarding the issue. She went on to explain that she too was aware of the robbery. It had happened the day before and she had heard that the police were able to apprehend the culprits. She assured the Zeman women that none of the hostages had been harmed.

Nadia’s answer did not surprise Ivana. “I have more of an issue with that news network than with the robbers. Do they think ratings or profit are more important than human dignity?”

The young woman gradually began to resume her positive nature. It did not take long before she was again the darling young lady that everyone so loved.

Ivana hid her dissatisfaction as she left the hospital. Forgetting Arthur Schopenhauer for now, the powerful woman was plotting before she reached her chauffeured Mercedes sedan.


Dirty Laundry II
________________________________________

A dream was unfolding in American suburbia. The construction crews and technical engineers had honored the arrangement. It would be but a few days before the dream was up and running. This particular scene was the manifestation of a scheme belonging to a very determined Woman.

Alexandra Henderson struggled to maintain a stoic appearance. The 40 year old stunner presented a calm focus as she watched in tight faded jeans, black tee-shirt and bright orange vest, her long blonde hair folded and tucked beneath the orange hard hat. Her emotions were guarded as they had been for several years. She had gone it alone. Unilaterally, the term she had used many times in her years as a news anchorwoman. The event before her was just another step in her process of proving her critics wrong.
It was no secret anywhere in the civilized world that sex sells and Alexandra had learned very quickly that like Don Henley sang in the early eighties, “crap is king” in this racket. Ratings in the news business are a complicated matter. She had heard it thousands of times. The over educated morons that she had worked for in the past had always refused the obvious. She knew exactly why the ratings spiked during her segment of the broadcast. She was sexy, she had a great and somewhat risqué fashion sense and she flirted with her audience. It was all very simple.

The journey leading to this point had been quite bumpy at times. The process had involved many agonizing hours of boardroom meetings, advertising commitment and careful planning. The underlying idea seemed easy enough. Collect a handful of ambitious, self-serving and hot, hot, HOT newsreaders to present the most sensational stories that the FCC would allow, then achieve unprecedented ratings and returns. The only real science involved, related to establishing a balance between retracted advertising dollars and high viewer demand. Alexandra had referred to pop culture in general to illustrate many of her points. The music and movie industries were littered with examples of nasty shocking intent, yet had no shortage of endorsement offers. Her cautious planning was thorough and amongst other things, her intended empire included a collection of analysts to assist in sidestepping landmines.

The actual broadcasts had commenced over a year ago. In its initial stage, the segments were short and a mere portion of an existing platform, Alexandra herself anchoring the slot in a variety of tight plunging tops and very short skirts. As time went on, the management got on board, allowing Alexandra to choose more readers as well as lengthening the time slots. When her contract with the network expired, she had taken the dream with her. For the last 10 month her girls had worked the desk form an old rented studio in a questionable part of town. The construction of the new studio, built exclusively for her nascent network was nearly finished.

Alexandra looked to her watch. Noting the time, she quietly started a hurried walk back to where she had parked her white Escalade. Feeling confident and energized, she maneuvered the large SUV through the site, back onto the street and headed for the Interstate. Her girls would be waiting for her.

************

The mood in the make shift conference room at the Daily Line studio was light despite the upcoming move. Five very attractive women were standing or sitting around a large but old table awaiting the arrival of the network’s founder.

“So how long do you suppose we’ll milk this thing, girls?” asked forty two year old brunette Candice Reynolds.

“As long as we can honey,” was the optimistic reply from buxom dirty blonde Kelly Moran. “This is huge girls, a one in a million. I mean I’m thirty seven, so I have a few score left in me and I doubt that I will ever encounter a ratings cow like this again. You just don’t see live coverage of four women bound and gagged in their underwear on the street every day.”

“Wendy is our heroine in of the day ladies. I swear, I think I could see a mole on the ass cheek of that Mexican chick,” chimed in Erin Madison, a busty, wavy haired brunette of thirty four. “Nice zoom and focus babe."

“It’s getting a little deep now,” answered the younger raven haired Wendy, pulling up the hem of her short powder blue skirt, pantomiming a few wading steps.

“Whewwwwhoooo,” Came the chorus of female voices as Wendy intentionally exposed the tiny thong that matched the skirt’s color.

“Actually, it was very basic stuff,” Wendy continued dropping her skirt. “I was just in the right place at the right time. I can’t believe the analysts let it air. I thought for sure that my footage wasn’t going to make it to broadcast.”

“Well you call it what suits you, camera girl. This one is gonna keep us busy for a while,” added Candice. “We are clear to release the names of the victims. Tiffany has that on this evenings broadcast.”

Tiffany Jenkins responded as all eyes turned to her. “Bound and gagged in their bras and panties,” she joked shaking her c cup breasts trying not to laugh. “I can’t believe how much money I am making with this crap. “Bound and gagged in their bras and panties,” she repeated in her normal broadcast voice. “I guess our dirty laundry network tag is justified.”

“How much doo-doo are we gonna catch from the Police Department when you verify that one of those women is their own?” asked Erin.

“Oh I’m sure they are going to raise hell about it,” Tiffany answered. “I think that thanks to Wendy and her magic camera though, everyone already knows that the woman in the white bra and bikini undies was Officer Reyes. I bet she’s glad she didn’t choice a thong that day like her chicita friend. The Asian barista babe may as well have been naked with that barely their number she had on. Anyway, like I said let’s let those generously paid analysts and spin doctors worry about that. Alexandra knows what she doing.”

“Well speak of the devil,” announced Candice as the networks CEO entered the room.

“Good morning ladies,” came the greeting from Alexandra as she hurried to a small closet in the corner of the room still attired in her construction site duds. Quickly she placed the vest and helmet unto the table and began to peel of the black tee-shirt from her body. “Please start Tiffany,” she said.

Tiffany promptly began briefing her boss on the latest news items. As she spoke Alexandra stripped and began shuffling through the hangers in the closet. Having found the desired items, she turned to face the women wearing nothing save her purple micro fiber cheeky shorts and lacy white front hook bra. Her breasts strained the lace slightly as she interrupted Tiffany.

“Tell me the latest on the four hostage girls,” Was the anxious request.

Dirty Laundry III
________________________________________

Later that evening, there was a quite different set of plans unfolding. The setting was much more lavish and the mood much more serious. Maids busied themselves about the huge dining area. Meal courses came and went as a small verbal exchange occurred. Many infamous acts had spawned from this same elegant setting, kidnappings, heists and even murder. The planning of these illegal deeds had nearly always occurred while Ivana Zeman occupied the chair at the head of the table. It was from this position that she now was outlining her wishes.

“I have never seen our Nadia affected so strongly by an event involving strangers. I suppose it could have been a side effect from the drugs she is on. As you all know, this angel from heaven, perhaps the only one this family possesses, has never asked for a penny from any of us. She wouldn’t take money or favors... ever. She was sincere, I believe, and sadly she has so little time.”

The elderly woman was consoled by another niece, twenty eight year old Martina Zeman. The young attractive fair skinned brunette had been groomed well for a life in organized crime. She had an innocent look that had deceived many. As skilled in street warfare as she was in diplomacy, the younger Zeman had left a few bodies to stiffen in her short time.

“You don’t have to justify anything Teta. I know that Nadia lives in your heart. Matka would want it as well,” she said, referring to her deceased Mother and Sister of Ivana. “If you are saying that Nadia want’s this, then I feel we are obligated in some way. We would finally be providing something for her. This will bring the family joy as well. The job isn’t hard Teta. I already have some of the information I need and the team will be in town tomorrow afternoon. We will start working the plan immediately. Don’t worry, Teta when we are finished those *****es down at the Dirty Laundry Network will be so humiliated that the situation involving those four women will be forgotten.”

“For Nadia,” Martina cried out raising her glass above the table.

A comfortable warm feeling set in as Ivana stood, raised her glass, repeating with the others. “FOR NADIA!”

************

Alexandra Henderson would never admit so much publically, but within her own thoughts she knew that her success was as much a product of good fortune as it was hard work. First of all she had been blessed by the creator with extraordinary beauty. A pattern of lucky occurrences had followed her from birth. Lying in her own bed wearing just a stringy amber thong and a white form fitting tank top, she reviewed footage of the latest fortuitous episode.

Tiffany and Candice had been the anchors assigned to cover the story but there may not have been much of a story had camera operator Wendy Robards not had such an affinity for fancy chocolates.

The story began at a small drive through coffee kiosk. A couple of low-life, petty she-thugs were a little hot beneath their panties after a trivial marijuana deal. Most people including those of equally low IQ would have walked away angry at the most, but Thelma and Louise were out for loud and clear revenge.

Julie Chin, a twenty two year old barista of Chinese decent, was the sister of the delinquent’s pot supplier. The pair had bulldogged their way into the dainty coffee shack, intending to use Julie as a symbol in their retaliation. The timing of these genius derelicts could not have been worse. Julie was scheduled to open for business within minutes. At gunpoint they forced the terrified Asian girl to strip to her g-string and bra before being surprised by the arrival of twenty five year old Police Officer Araceli Reyes stopping by as Julie’s first customer, on her morning break. The partners in crime panicked and after being caught off guard, the young cop found herself disarmed. Like Julie, Officer Reyes was ordered to strip to her underwear. Her black police uniform was cut and torn into strips of black cloth that were used to bind and gag the captive women. While they struggled on the floor, another vehicle pulled up. Twenty year old Callie Owens and her equally youthful co-worker Jennifer Mendoza were on their way to an eight hour shift at a discount clothing store. At about the same time sirens became audible. Unknown to the criminals, Officer Reyes had the microphone of her police radio keyed when she had been assaulted. Units were on the way. Jennifer and Callie joined the barista and the police woman. Both were bound and gagged with strips of black cloth torn from their black work slacks. A standoff with the police began within minutes.

Wendy Robards had pulled her news van into the nearby parking lot of her favorite chocolate store just seconds before the officers arrived.

Blind dumb luck. There was no other way to cut it. Alexandra Henderson of course knew this. She also knew how to spin it. Just like always, she planned to boast of her hard working professional team.

For now the issue was sleep. She anticipated a long hard day fending off the objections of an angry Police Department, starting first thing in the morning. Without any additional thought, she turned the DVD player and television off and jumped under the covers.

Dirty Laundry IV
________________________________________

“Two or three days, depending on a few contingencies.” This was the commitment offered. The voice belonged to a trusted and longtime associate of the Zeman Family. Inez Santos was a woman of the highest repute. “Fixer” was the term she preferred as an occupational label. The 47 year old beauty of mixed Nicaraguan and Irish decent had been called upon many times. Martina Zeman had not even considered another approach.

It was in the back seat of black Cadillac that the women discussed the features of the operation.

Inez continued.

“I think the Police may actually be allies, considering their apparent displeasure with Ms. Henderson’s network. I am ruling out taking a cop or two down in this case. We want them to drag their feet if we need them to and I think that’s exactly what they’ll do if we keep them out of it.”

“I understand that some delays have arisen regarding the move into the new studio. This is to our advantage. The security situation at the old studio is much more to my liking. My “eyes” down there are reporting that both guards are women during the daytime. That works in our favor of course because most if not all of our targets will be in the building together, three of the four primaries damn near for certain. The variable is the camera woman of course.”

“The best way to go about this is to distract the guards, overpower them and detain them. A couple of bimbos I’m hearing… Childs play. We’ll bring some of our girls of equal size and appearance to assume their identities. This will minimize any possibility of suspicious interpretations of passersby. We’ve already checked it out. Ms. Henderson chose the inexpensive route. The guards only check credentials at the entrance and call the police if necessary. It looks like they’re just there to keep the street trash away from the building. There aren’t even any cameras. Our girls will be equipped to alert us or handle surprise snags, should any visitors arrive while we are active.

“Once we’re in… the fun starts. Pretty basic ****, really.”

Martina was quite aware of the fact that Inez took pleasure in these sorts of jobs. It paid well, was relatively easy to plan and execute and involved the humiliation of deserving subjects.

“Always a pleasure Inez, the family will be watching for this very special news bulletin,” Martina softly stated.

“For Nadia,” replied the “fixer.”

************

It had been four days since Nadia had uttered those words. “Yeah… I’d like to see that.”

“THAT”… was about to happen.

The day seemed routine and like always a little boring for 19 year old Megan Seaver. She and her partner Brittany Towne would endure the long shift together. To the bleach blonde Megan, that was the only good aspect of an otherwise lousy job. She wouldn’t have lasted a week without her half Korean high school girlfriend.

“I’m gonna do a quick walk around,” Megan told her colleague, stepping out of the small guard shack at the parking entrance.

“Call me if you need backup,” joked Brittany.

Megan halfheartedly performed her required task. The trip around the building in the bright summer morning was the same as always. She took her time on her round, day dreaming of all things unrelated to the security company. Only a few more weeks and she would be out of the black slacks and white polo shirt of her rotten employer. There had not been a single day on the job where she felt that her cheaply embroidered gold badge mattered any. As she rounded the final corner of the building she found herself alerted by the sight a hundred or so feet in front of her.

On the asphalt, just outside the door of the guard shack, Brittany was being attended to by two young women. Lacking any real security training and reacting purely as a friend, the “security professional” rushed over to investigate. It looked as though her young Asian friend had fainted. She didn’t see the gun until it was too late. She guessed that her dazed friend had been hit with some sort of a stun gun. Paralyzed with fear, the wide-eyed youth watched as one of the unfamiliar women signaled to the street with a soft arm motion. What seemed like half a second later a large black van pulled into the drive, stopping when its rear end reached a point parallel to the nearly prone Brittany. The doors flew open and very quickly the stunned guard was loaded in. In a state of near panic, Megan swiftly complied after being motioned into the cargo compartment.

It did not take a trained observer to determine that the event surrounding Megan was a planned act carried out by professionals. In the chaos of the scene, the young guard never noted the exact number of women that accompanied her in the rear space of the vehicle. She would later guess five or six.

An unidentified female voice came from somewhere amongst the confusion.

“Strip Blondie, down to you bra and panties… QUICKLY!!!

Gripped in fear, Megan complied as she unbuttoned and released the snap of her black slacks. She watched as two of the assailants went to work on the still seemingly incoherent Brittany. With precision they unlaced worn black leather boots, pulling them roughly from her feet. Absent any real cognition, Megan now started to do the same, moving her hands to the laces of her black nylon ankle boots. In nearly perfect unison, she mimicked the stripping of her partner, first unlacing and sliding off the boots then pulling the plain white cotton socks off of her feet. The white cotton polo shirts were pulled up over the girls’ heads and finally the slacks peeled from their legs. Now wearing only a pale pink bra and black thong with a tiny pink and yellow flower pattern, Megan was roughly pushed to the front portion of the cargo space. Lying face down, she felt her hands being pulled to the small of her back. Looking to her left and slightly rearward, she was able to see her friend similarly positioned attired in snug teal cotton hipster panties and a designer bra of myrtle green and black lace. She knew that the pair of them were being bound. The thick plastic zip ties were applied tightly and bit into her skin. There were three applied to each woman, one at the wrists, another at the ankles and finally at the thigh, just above the knees. The young blonde woman was still far too scared to resist as the mouths of both hostages were packed with loose white cloth. She did grumble slightly as black duct tape was wrapped tightly around the lower portion of her head. Megan had reached the point of mental numbness as she watched two women, sharing the captive’s physical features, change into the cheap security uniforms and exit the van through the rear door.

************

The news desk at the Daily Line studio was empty as usual at this time of the day. The format utilized in Alexandra’s platform involved shooting a Kelly Moran anchored, live morning broadcast. The recorded 3 hour loop then ran for a second time, intended for late morning viewers or those interested in a repeat.

Erin Madison finished her unsuccessful attempt at removing a small coffee stain on the lower portion of her tight, light brown barely there mini skirt.

“Oh I hope that comes out honey. I am soooo sorry….,” offered the slightly embarrassed lead evening anchor Tiffany Jenkins.

“No worries Tiff. It should be fine if I keep it wet.”

Erin tossed the wadded wet paper towel into the garbage as the attractive pair left the bathroom and stepped into the crudely arranged conference area.

Loud gasps escaped both ladies when they encountered the scene.

The entire group was there. Candice Reynolds, Kelly Moran and Wendy Robards stood facing away, the nose of each touching the drywall. Each of these women had their hands behind their heads with fingers interlaced. Two women dressed head to toe in black to include face concealing balaclavas, stood at each end of the row, both attackers armed with a semi-automatic pistol. There was a third hostage holder as well. It appeared that she knew who the big fish was. Alexandra Henderson knelt on the edge of the table, like the others, hands behind her head. Her nervous tremble was justified. The entire barrel of the third pistol was buried deep in her mouth.



Dirty Laundry V
________________________________________

The hands of both women were raised in surrender before any orders were issued. Erin and Tiffany stood side by side, eyes darting from one point to another, each trying to make sense of this. Although neither woman could be sure, both quickly guessed that it had something to do with a grudge held against Alexandra. The position and predicament of the network CEO certainly indicated it.

The frightened blonde and once proud woman continued to tremble from her kneeling position, her lips wrapped around the black steel. With her spine as straight as a flagpole, her breasts pressed firmly against the opaque, silky material of her sleeveless peach pull over blouse, the outline of her push up bra clearly visible.

The terrified woman’s knees appeared to be bonded to the table top, three inches below the hem line of the tight stretchy gunmetal mini skirt. At a nearly perfect right angle her nylon sheathed calves extended, ending with the soles and spikes of her ankle strapped designer heels, also peach. Every breath was accompanied by a barely audible moan.

“There is no explanation coming ladies,” announced the woman responsible for Alexandra’s rigid posture, and apparent leader of the assault. “There is one thing and one thing only that you need to know. It’s very simple. Cooperate or die. If any of you does not follow our orders to the letter everyone in the building will be set to push daisies by the end of the hour. Those poor young security guards will suffer the same. ARE WE CLEAR?”

Some of the hostages were able mumble confirmation, while others only nodded. Alexandra’s nod came in restricted short motions.

“Very quickly with your hands on your head, fingers locked, move into the studio” commanded the woman, pulling her pistol from Alexandra’s mouth.

The frightened women complied. Alexandra awkwardly came down off the table and joined her employees in a single file line. The studio was down a short hall and to the right. It looked to be completely set up for broadcast absent the human requirements. There were three large mobile floor cameras in various positions in front of the desk.

“Who’s the camera girl?”

Wendy owned up in a very uneven tone.

“Get one these things ready to shoot, QUICKLY!!!” came the order.

With one of the two silent assailants watching like a hawk, Wendy moved as quickly as possible. As she prepared the state of the art studio camera for use, the leader continued with her demands. Alexandra and her girls were each handed 3x5 index cards.

“Oh sweet Jesus!” burst out Candice Reynolds.

The second silent woman moved like a cat and in a single fluid motion had most of Candice’s hair gripped tightly, yanking the news anchor’s head violently to the rear. As the pistol was pushed into the soft flesh beneath the chin, the others could almost feel the pulse of their physically assaulted colleague.

“The next one of you that pulls that **** will continue the game after she is pistol whipped,” spoke the leader in a very stern tone. “Then we’ll take a toe off one of the others. ARE WE CLEAR?”

Again a mixed affirmation.

“It doesn’t have to be verbatim, ladies but it had better be good. Are we ready with that camera?”

Wendy answered that it would be another 30 seconds or so.

“Since you want to cause problems, you can go first”, commanded the woman looking to Candice. “It had better be loud enough for the camera to capture.”

After being released from the grip of her captor, Candice nervously stepped in front of the camera.

“Red… Ready,” a clearly shaken Wendy proclaimed.

“GO!” ordered the leader.

Candice looked into the camera and seeing the green LED began her bit.

“I am Candice Reynolds. I am the lead afternoon anchor at the Daily Line News Service. I am being punished for crimes against human decency.”

The performance began with Candice quickly unbuttoning her shiny off white blouse. As she parted the garment, the smooth cups of her maroon bra were revealed. Without further cue, she reached to her right hip. Her hand traveled downward four or five inches and in one motion she dropped the navy blue skirt. The camera followed as she knelt and removed the high heeled pumps, also navy blue. After tossing the shoes away she stood again and slid out of the blouse. At this point she wore only the bra and dark charcoal pantyhose. The obvious question was answered as she peeled away the hose. Candice had worn panties underneath. Very small cotton panties that matched the bra. Again, without any verbal instructions she turned to face away exposing her completely bare ass cheeks. She held the pose for three or four seconds before turning once more to the camera. “Thong panties,” she announced obviously humiliated.

“Perfect. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?... Evening lead, you’re next…. Quickly” continued the lead captor.

The forty year old Tiffany Jenkins replaced Candice in front of the camera. The petrified brunette instinctively palm brushed her medium length hair before inhaling deeply. Looking straight into the camera she uttered. I am lead evah… I am Tiffany Jenkins. Lead evening anchor at the Daily Line,” Tiffany fumbled her words. “ I am aw uhm… I am being punished for crimes against human decency.”

Tiffany’s time slot was still hours away and she wore regular street duds consisting of tight navy blue denim jeans, an unbuttoned tan shirt and black tank top. She started by kneeling to remove her casual brown soft leather dress boots. After sliding the boots off, she stood and slipped from the shirt. The quite unnerved news babe then inhaled deeply once more before pulling the dark cotton tank top up and over her head. Tossing the light garment to the floor, she then released the button and zipper of her jeans. It took a little effort and wiggling but Tiffany concluded by lowering the denim to her ankles and stepping away. For a few seconds she faced the camera wearing only her tiny under things, an abstract patterned black and grey bra and string sided orange panties. Like Candice before her she slowly spun, allowing the camera to capture her scarcely covered back side. Turning again to face the giant lens, she announced. “Bikini panties.” As expected, she radiated extreme humiliation.

The routine continued, one woman at a time. With Alexandra behind the camera in a sky blue bra and g-string, Wendy concluded the stripping, appearing quite embarrassed in her smooth purple and pink polka dotted bra and purple thong.

“Bravo!!!! Daily News chicks” commented the lead hostage taker, clapping five or six times.

“Time to get tied and gagged!!!”
Dirty Laundry Final
________________________________________
The captive News Women were ordered to stand, side by side, facing one sidewall of the studio, while the assailants alternately slid stealthy black back packs from their bodies. With their hands once again placed on the backs of their heads and noses to the wall, the still quite frightened hostages could only guess as to the actions of their captors. With the precision of a formula one pit crew, the women in black produced the necessary items and moving from left to right, began binding the arms of their captives. Speed seemed to be the priority and one at a time their arms were pulled to the small of their backs for the binding process. Each of the bra and panties attired women felt a pinching sting as heavy black zip ties were applied at the wrists and elbows. The task completed, the restrained news team was ordered to turn 180 degrees and were left facing the now inactive camera. The six of them resembled characters from the low rate seventies sexploitation film, The Abductors. Erin Madison stood at one end, breasts bulging, in a shimmery front clasping bra of an altered leopard print pattern. The bra was accompanied by the smallest pair of bikini panties imaginable, the silky material, matching the bra’s pattern, barely hid the woman’s most intimate feature. A small tiger was tattooed into the right lower abdomen just above the garment’s unusually thin side straps. To add to her embarrassment, the strictly enforced position left a small portion her pale brown nipples exposed.

In order moving down the row stood Candice in the maroon thong and bra set, Alexandra wearing just the sky blue bra and g-string, Tiffany in mismatched orange panties and smoky bra, Camera Operator Wendy Robards, sporting polka dots and purple butt floss, and finally Kelly Moran in matching burgundy bra and tanga style panties complimented by a black lace overlay.

The gags were especially demeaning and cruel. Each of the captives had her mouth packed to capacity with the required amount of silky cloth. Thick, heavy black material was pulled over the packing then tied off tightly at the nape of each neck, forming thick cleaves. The result was a near complete involuntary silencing as well as plenty of discomfort.

Through twisted laughter, the leader of the trio proclaimed, BOUND AND GAGGED IN THEIR BRAS AND PANTIES!”

“Bras and strings would be more like it,” she sarcastically added.

With purpose she stepped in front of the “camera girl” reaching to her left breast. With her thumb and first finger she forced the edge of Wendy’s bra downward, allowing that same thumb and finger an easy pass to the woman’s nipple. With a moderate pinch, she asked, “Is that Camera gonna work the way you told us it would?”

The rapid nodding was accompanied by a “UMM UMMMM!”

“It better!” she stated, loosening the pressure.

“Showtime once again ladies’” she announced stepping back to the camera that had been used in the stripping sequence.

The associates of the demented woman once again went to the back packs, producing thick black wands ten or twelve inches in length.

After waiting a few seconds for the women to appropriately place themselves, the director of the sick show lowered her head to the camera. “AAAANNND ACTION!!!” she mimicked.

The wands were electric prods of some sort. The studio quickly became a dance floor. This dance had plenty of human noise, but nothing resembling harmony.

************

Far from the city and a day removed from the studio raid, an attractive woman stood on the wooden porch of a pond side cabin. Bright sunshine revealed the area around the structure was flat and cleared of any vegetation worth mentioning. As the young red headed woman stomped out a half smoked Marlboro, she looked to her watch. “Twenty minutes” she thought stepping across wooden planks along the side of the small building. Turning the corner, she approached a strictly bound, gagged and blindfolded blonde.

“The moment of truth draws near, news *****,” she plainly stated.

Without saying another word the young fair skinned woman checked the bonds, ensuring the tightness of the ropes, cloth and tape. Satisfied with the result of her hasty inspection, she stepped inside the front door.

Alexandra Henderson was not a religious woman, but at this point she was silently praying to every God she had ever heard of. A portion of these prayers was related to her own condition, but most of her efforts involved Candice Reynolds. Her senior news anchor and longtime friend had been charged with the critical broadcast, the “moment of truth”, scheduled for twenty minutes from now.

Her bondage was agonizing. Her legs had been spread as far apart as physically possible before being tied off to the wooden posts at the entry way to the porch. Her arms pulled painfully upward from behind her back and secured to an overhead rafter. The severely restrained woman’s elbows had been lashed together and pressed firmly against one another. A very tight strand of white nylon rope encircled her waist before passing between her legs, bringing intense discomfort to her sex parts. The narrow, short and closely trimmed strip of pubic hair offered no protection. Each of her nipples burned, the savage victims of double clothes pins. The sky blue g-string that she had been wearing the day before now resided in her mouth. The tiny garment was joined by several pairs of panties belonging to her employees. The crude mouth packing was held in place by a triple layer of additional gagging material. This consisted of a thin tight cloth cleave, a section of wide, white, foamy cloth covering the entire lower portion of her head and an inch wide band of electrical tape. The blindfold arrangement involved the same type of foam material used in the gag but was of a pinkish red color.

Alexandra’s captors had not bothered to inform her that the local Police Department had been anonymously tipped. Their discovery at the studio was shocking to all, including the most senior officers. Inside the unlocked building they had found five women. All were hogtied, gagged and blindfolded. All but one was completely nude. Twenty year old security guard Brittany Towne wore a scant bra and panty set. Missing from the scene were the network CEO Alexandra Henderson, nineteen year old security guard Megan Seaver and thirty four year old DLN correspondent Erin Madison.

“Please let her be strong enough to pull it off.” The immobilized CEO silently pleaded.

************

There were no furnishings worth noting inside the cabin, just a very plain setting. A small flat screen television was mounted on one of the walls and the screen flashed, bright colors dancing while announcing an end of summer sale. Inside an adjoining, small, locked and windowless room, Megan Seaver and Erin Madison sat upon old shag carpeting. The women still wore only their bras and panties but aside from black sacks that covered their heads, drawn and tied at the neck, both were unrestrained. Each of the captive women wept in joy as they clearly heard Candice lead the broadcast with the DLN ordeal of the previous day. The voice of the news veteran was steady and clear. She reported the event oddly, as a third party would have done. Throughout the segment, Candice repeated 2 sets of phrases very frequently. Bound and gagged…. And… bras and panties!

************

With her Cousin and Aunt at her hospital bedside, Nadia Zeman watched in undetected astonishment as six extremely embarrassed “Dirty Laundry” network news babes unsuccessfully attempted to dodge wands, moving about frantically… Bound and gagged…. And in…. bras and panties.

At the conclusion of the story, a warm smile formed upon her face, brightening the room.

Nadia’s eyes blazed. As the smile grew larger, the angel of the Zeman family turned to her Aunt and simply said, “I love you Teta.”

THE END
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