"Becca's Brighton Bondage"

by Androidus

Chapter 1: European vacation

Rebecca had just about recovered from her gruelling adventure with Androidus and his Korean hide away trap. She had found later, on her return to the States, that she had a couple of fractured ribs, which accounted for the pain she had been in for quite some time. It was also an indictment to her strength and fitness that she had recovered so quickly. Most people with such injuries would have had to rest up for a month; not Rebecca, she was up and about and planning a long overdue vacation to europe.

The glossy brochures made it almost impossible for her to decide where to visit first. She knew she wanted to see Paris - that was a certainty! The problem was she wanted to try to fit a few other countries in too, and co-ordinating flights, ferry crossings and train journeys was beginning to knock a bit of the enthusiasm out of her.

Finally, Rebecca decided to do a round trip, flying into London Heathrow to begin with. From there she would spend a couple of days in London, then travel south to the coast to spend the rest of the first week in Brighton. A train across to Dover would get her on the tunnel to France, a car's drive from Paris, a week there followed by, finally, another couple of days in London on her way back. Her hert raced as she left the travel booking centre with her tickets booked and ready to pick up at JFK airport in a day or two.

The trip wasn't entirely as a result of a whim. A few days after her return from her run in with Androidus, she had received an e-mail from a 'pen pal' in Brighton, England. Perhaps 'fan' was a closer description, because in the short amount of free time Rebecca had at her disposal - when she wasn't being called out to beat up a few criminals - she whiled away the evenings maintaining her website which was devoted to her number one fantasy: Superheroine bondage!

One might have expected that, as a costumed crime fighter in real life, Becca would have had her fill of being tied up and being left to struggle in various kinky situations, even deadly ones. But her fantasy was really quite different to her real job. On her website she could explore the facets to her 'dark side'. Occasionally, Becca had quite enjoyed being tied up as Flaxen, especially if the villain was a particularly handsome one! Her fans wanted to see her ( they had no idea she was really Flaxen, in fact most of her overseas fans hadn't even heard of her ) in many and varied bondage situations, some extremely hazardous, some very sexy and some just plain stupid. Rebecca had done her best to accommodate all their fetishes and had had a great time doing them into the bargain!
This particular fan from Brighton intrigued her. He had written stories and had manipulated some of the pictures on her site for her, which she loved, and all throughout he had reinforced his desire for her to visit him sometime - whenever she wanted to come was perfect for him. He'd described himself as being in his mid to late twenties, just over 6'1" tall, single, with a career in art and design of some form or another. He'd also described himself as having a crush on her the size of the National Debt! Rebecca had been flattered, especially that a total (virtually) stranger, possibly slightly younger than herself, should be going to all this effort to get her to go and see him. It made her feel strange inside, like a warm 'gooey' feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Anyway, she had always wanted to go and visit England and France, and taking full advantage of her convalescing period away from C.A.T. (Covert Action and Tactics), she was all set to go. Rebecca typed up another e-mail to her mysterious 'fan', it read:

"Dear 'A',
As a result of your incessant whining and pestering, you may be pleased to
find out that I will be visiting your shores during the week of 6th to
the 13th of May - Is it still okay to pop over and visit?
 
Love Becca"

She went to pack her suitcase and made herself some lunch before returning to the website to see if she had any more requests. He must have been checking his e-mails around the time she sent hers because Becca noticed he had already replied with an ecstatic 'Absolutely!' She smiled to herself, wondering what on earth she was playing at. For all she knew, he could be 60, 5'4" tall and barely able to stand. In any case, it would be interesting finding out....and there was always Paris!

Is Rebecca's idolatrous fan all that he seems?

What could go wrong with looking up a total stranger in a far away country?

More importantly, will Rebecca live to regret it  if there is?

Chapter 2: England

London. Becca could hardly believe her first few days were almost at an end. Since arriving at Heathrew three days ago, she had gone to great efforts to see as much of the city as she could. She was beginning to feel ready for another holiday! Having taken in all the sights, the galleries, some theatre and quite a few clothes shops, the time had come for her to drop in on her 'fan' at brighton. It was the weirdest feeling arranging via e-mail where to meet, how to recognize each other ( although he would no doubt have recognized her in a garbage sack!) and at what time. Becca felt as though she was on an adventure to search out a long lost relative, or something of the kind.

Weighed down with a ton of luggage and shopping, Becca somehow managed to negotiate the London Subway, not famed for its user friendly layout or for its regularity. Still, she was able to get across to Victoria station and onto the southbound express which would take her all the way to Brighton.

Arriving fifty minutes later in a drizzly, overcast, cold seaside town, bogged down with all her luggage left Rebecca feeling a little less enthusiastic than she thought she might have been. She hailed a taxi and was driven to her guest house overlooking the sea front, which at the moment seemed to be just a slab of wet grey. No telling where the sky met the sea. At least her hotel room had cable, so she settled down to watch 'Barbarella' for a giggle whilst she unpacked some of her things.

"Hope tomorrow's better," She mused. Wondering what it would be like meeting this guy and whether or not the whole thing would be a wash out.

The next day was far removed from how her first impression of Brighton had been. The sun was out, which totally transformed the place. Only a small town in comparison to London's sprawling suburbs, but almost as multi-cultural. The diversity and variety of people, places to go and things to do totally bowled her over.

She made her way slowly to the pier, meandering this way and that, taking in everything that she saw and now quite enjoying herself. It was almost 1 p.m., the time she was to meet the guy from 'cyberspace'. She realized she didn't even know his real name, he always just signed it 'A'. No matter, she made her way up the length of the pier and sat on the designated bench just outside the donut stall. She pulled her compact mirror out from her purse and checked herself over quickly.

"Looking good, Becca," She thought.

A gust of seaside breeze made her skirt blow up her thighs slightly, but she managed to maintain her dignity and not expose too much to the interested teen aged boys walking past. Rebecca blushed slightly as the boys carried on past, checking back to take sneak looks every few steps.

"Hello, Becca." The use of her name startled her a little.

"Are you, um, 'A'?" She enquired, feeling a little foolish .

"'A' for Andersson, my Grandparents came from Norway, but I'm all British." He smiled.

Becca looked him up and down and smiled through a slight frown.

"You haven't been telling me the whole truth, Andersson," She said. "You told me you were 6'1" and in your late twenties!"

He beamed back a charming and disarming smile.

"Well, would you have jumped across the Atlantic for a 5' 10" 'boy' of 23?" He said.

Rebecca thought about it and shrugged.

"Can't say I'd thought about it that much," Now it was her turn to lie a little. "In any case, you're hardly a boy and you seem kinda cute."

He laughed and motioned back towards the entrance to the pier.

"Do you want to get a burger or a hot dog before we go?"

"Go?" Rebecca asked. "Go where?"

"Well I thought you'd be dying to see some of the new illustrations I've done of you - some of them are too big to e-mail, and I was thinking perhaps you could see my house."

"You own a house?" She sounded impressed.

"If you can get the work in this field, it pays!" They both walked back towards the pier entrance and across to one of the waiting taxis.

"Who knows, whilst I'm here I might even be persuaded to pose for you." She mentioned cheekily, hoping he would take the bait.

"My camera is loaded with a film already at home, and I've taken the liberty of setting up an area to photograph you, but I wasn't going to force the issue unless you said anything first." Andersson opened the door for her and followed her into the back of the cab.

"Well it would be a shame if I had come all this way to visit one of my biggest fans and not pose for him - especially if it's going to benefit my web site into the bargain!"

The taxi drove off, taking the pair of them along the coast road and slightly out of the centre of Brighton to a quaint little village about a mile out. The taxi drove up a dirt track to a small looking house, almost a cottage, sitting on its own in a field. The nearest other house was 400 metres away back down the track.

"Thanks, mate, and keep the change." Andersson paid the taxi driver and Becca watched it slowly move off back down the drive.

"A little secluded, isn't it? Do you value your privacy?" Rebecca asked, a wry smile playing on the corners of her lips.

"Oh, the town is terrific, but I wouldn't want to be in it all day and everyday. Besides, there are a lot of nosey people in this part of the world, everyone wanting to know everyone else's business. Out here nobody bothers me. I can go days, sometimes weeks before I see anyone else. If I want company, I visit friends in town....and actually," He looked at her as he opened his front door to let them in. "We wouldn't want anybody to disturb us if we were taking pics, now, would we?"

Becca smiled and followed him into the house, closing the door behind her.

Who knows what could waiting inside for our unsuspecting heroine?

Is this just a harmless fixation Andersson has on her...or is there more to him than meets the eye?

The final chapter is on its way even as you mull these questions...  

Chapter 3: Photo Shoot

Andersson prepared them both a cup of coffee and brought out his folder of artwork to show Becca. There were all different things in it, but he seemed particularly proud of the illustrations and the manips he'd done of her as his comic character "Jepurdie".

Rebecca smiled inwardly. 'If he only knew that I am a real costumed secret agent called "Flaxen"' The irony was close to making her laugh, but if she didn't want to field any awkward questions, she'd have to bite her lip.

"This is very good work, Andersson...do you sell much?" She looked up at him and he smiled, gesturing to the house around them.

"Dumb question, sorry." She said. "I reaaly do like these new manips you've got going here - they are so detailed."

"It has become a passion of mine to place you in as many and as exciting an array of bondage perils that I can dream up." He stated.

"I see..." Rebecca smiled and, standing up to straighten her skirt and blouse she looked deep into his steely blue eyes and asked, "... And just what kind of peril did you have in mind for me today, since your photo area is set up ready, as you say?" She stood in mock defiance, her fists clenched on her hips.

"Well, I had a few ideas about different traps - loads of worried facial expressions, you know. the 'My God- help, Help me!!' kind of thing and also to try out the costume I managed to piece together from various charity shops. When you told me you were coming I shot out and bought whatever I could in case you didn't bring one with you."

Becca smiled. 'Oh, I have one with me, all right, but I wouldn't want for you to see me in that and find out my secret identity!' She thought.

"Shall we get to it, then?" Rebecca seemed almost as eager to get herself tied up as he was to trap her.

"Excellent, the studio is downstairs in the basement, as is the changing area I've set up for you." He motioned to the door to the basement and they both walked carefully downstairs.

"You seem to have thought of everything.." Rebecca said , smiling in anticipation as she walked ahead of Andersson.

"..To the last deatail..." He replied.

Having stripped off from her blouse and skirt, Becca was now dressed in a skin tight, long sleeved red body wth a high roll neck, satin flesh coloured tights and thigh length red socks. She looked at herself in the mirror and had to admit, she looked good enough to eat!

"Why socks and not proper boots?" She called from her cubicle, pulling the socks right up over her tights and folding the last couple of inches over just above the knees.

"Because when you struggle in the photos, you don't get to see the finer details like how the feet are pointing, stretching out your toes and curling them back - all that is lost in boots."

She emerged from the cubicle, looking dazzling in her body hugging costume.

"Okay, where do you want me?" She asked.

"Right, " Andersson grabbed the camera, the tripod and the flash gun. "It's a scene from a photostory I'm working on. As "Jepurdie" you have entered the villain's house and have broken into his cellar. From here you slowly walk downstairs, a couple of pics of that, then as you hit the floor, you step on a pressure plate which releases a stun gas which knocks you out."

"Wow! So I'm going to be really in for it!"

"And then some..."he whispered as she took position at the top of the stairs.

"Let's do it." Becca called out and Andersson gave her the thumbs up, and turning a switch on the wall near the bottom of the stairs.

Becca relished the attention as she sexily made her way downstairs, the camera flash going off every so often, she was so in the role that she didn't feel the plate click beneath her foot, and was too slow to avoid the jet of gas which sprayed out from the wall to the side of her face. She gasped and collapsed to the ground as the fast working gas took the strength right out of her body. Looking up at Andersson, he was still busily filming her predicament...a huge smile across his face. She was confused, dazed. She passed out.

The ringing in her ears was almost deafening, as she fought her way back to conscoiusness, the gas still keeping her groggy and weak.

"Ah, you're back from your little sleep, Rebecca - good. Now I can explain to you exactly why you are here and show you first hand what a REAL trap feels like!"

Becca shuffled, trying to get up from the leather table she was lay on. She became aware that she was strapped down to the table by thick cord wrapped tightly around her wrists at the top. Her waist was in the loop of some kind of thick fibre, she traced the fibre which wrapped around her waist and extended out in either direction from her into holes in either of the side walls. Her legs were bound together also, but with a slight amount of gap between her sexy stockinged feet so there was room for some limited movement. Fully awake now, Rebecca realised that the wrist bonds and the waist fibre would not be allowing her to get away without Andersson letting her go. Something told her that this was no longer an option.

"Do you remember a certain criminal mastermind known only as 'Androidus6, Rebecca?"

Becca froze, the mere sound of the name striking terror into her very soul.

"How - how do you know about...?" She was shocked.

"I know a lot about you...."Flaxen", Androidus set me up with all of this to seduce you into coming to visit a 'fan' of your fantasy web site. I'm his nephiew..."

Rebecca suddenly felt a cold shiver run down her spine, at the same time her stomach and head were hot with nervous apprehension.

"All this was just a trap..I mean a REAL TRAP??" She couldn't believe it. He'd caught her totally off guard and now she was at his mercy.

"Apparently you managed to escape from my uncle's death trap because of some gizmo hidden in your boot? Where are your boots now, woman?" Rebecca was suddenly very, very scared. She was trapped, without her real costume or any of her secret agent appliances.

"Understand this, woman, I have lured you to a country where nobody knows you, you are tied up in a village miles from civilization, with the nearest neighbour a quarter of a mile away. This cellar is totally sound proofed - you couldn't even hear your screams from upstairs. And I am going to kill you....and there's nothing you can do about it."

He walked around the table removing a long silk sash from out of an air tight bag. At one end of the sash was a slip knot. Becca could tell what was coming next and seh recoiled as much as her bonds would allow, her legs kicking and writhing against thin air. The noose was looped over her head and Andersson ran the length of it down across her back, caressing her curvaceous body, feeling her glorious curves, so helplessly bound in his trap.

"Why are you doing this to me? Please, let me go. I promise I'll stay out of Androidus' way in future. Tell him.." But her pleas were of no use. Andersson grabbed the slack cord between her ankles and yanked on it, forcing her to bend her legs backwards, her heels towards her buttocks. He fed the end of the noose around the cord and pulled it right back towards her head, her legs bending until they could go back no further. Becca's eyes began to bulge slightly, the nosse automatically tightening around her slender throat.

"Koff!! NO! No, I beg you....!!" She pleaded, but Andersson tied off the end og the noose to the tautly drawn back ankles. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"Tight, isn't it, Rebecca? That's not all - it is specially designed to shrink on contact with the air. In moments you'll feel it try to draw your legs back further, only they are as far back as they can bend...the only alternative is for it to slide slowly tighter around your throat."

Rebecca struggled wildly, terrified, panicking, with no way to escape - this seemed even worse than the Korean peril she faced, and that almost finished her off.

"Just to add insult to injury, Becca, the fibres around your waist are attached to winches housed in each wall. When I leave you to go back upstairs, they will draw the fibres tighter arond your desirable body, squeezing you in much the same way as my uncle's trap did in Korea...only this time your hands and feet are tied and you are going to be simultaneously, slowly asphyxiated to death. I think I've planned this one down to the very last detail. Struggle all you like "Flaxen", Rebecca Edwards, whatever you call yourself...nothing can save you this time," He walked to the bottom of the stairs and flipped another switch on the wall. Rebecca heard the winch motors gearing up and moments later her waist was being squeezed in their deadly grip.

Becca writhed and screamed at the top of her lungs for help, Andersson just locked the door as he reached the top of the stairs, laughing as he did so.

"OH NO, PLEASE...NNOOOOO!!" Becca shrieked as the noose squeezed into her neck and the waist winches crushed her body between their mighty coils. There was nothing she could do, all her efforts were futile. She squirmed and wriggled for all she was worth, her magnificent thighs burning with exertion, gorgeous, shapely calfs musclesflexing under her red socks as her feet twitched and stretched uselessly in their attempt to get free.

As she broke into a profuse sweat, Becca's reddening cheeks and terror wide eyes illustrated the complete and utter hopelessness of her dilemma. Ther WAS no way out of this one. Her delicate fingers gnarled and clutched at unbreakable cords. Her head was throbbing and her waist had been squeezed in so much that her bosoms were almost bursting out of the tight stretchy fabric. The fantasy had turned to nightmare. in less than a minute it would be the end of "Flaxen". She was doomed this time for certain.

I'm going to leave you there like that, churning in terror, until you tell me how YOU think "Flaxen" should escape. Should she even escape? Not all superheroines escape with their lives....could this be the end of "Flaxen"?

I'd love to hear from you about it!

Chapter 4: A Grisly Death

Terrified, tormented and tortured, the helplessly churning heroine writhed futilely in the icy clutches of death itself. Her mind raced...all her memories caught up with her. She knew the end was close at hand - her whole life flashed before her eyes. Through tear stained eyes she saw her life play out before her. Her teen years in high school, boys she'd known and loved, her first job, getting involved with C.A.T. in her early twenties and all the perilous adventures that had thrown at her....and now this.

Outside, the weather had turned really nasty - a typical British Summer's day - not that Becca either knew or cared. She'd been aware of a storm brewing earlier whilst looking at Andersson's artwork, before he had successfully lured her into the ultimate death trap...the one she was certain was going to end her life in seconds.

Upstairs, Andersson was trying his best to communicate with Androidus to inform him of the imminent demise of his sultry adversary. The storm was causing havoc with the radio transmission, but he wasn't going to risk using his computer in this storm - the damn thing would probably explode through a sudden surge of electricity!

Oddly enough, Andersson's worries were not ill founded, as a huge bolt of lightning struck the ground very close to the electrical sub station in the village, blacking out the village and beyond for about a five mile radius. As the radio went dead, Andersson cursed. Then he jumped up from his table with a start, realizing something suddenly, he raced to the door leading to the basement.

She had been totally unable to breathe for the last twelve seconds or so, the asphyxiator had all but crushed her throat, so to with the waist winch. Becca had desperately clung on to dear life, squirming and wriggling with ever shallowing movements, waiting for her death. Then all of a sudden the emergency lighting had kicked on in the cellar and she felt the waist coils give up and relax, allowing her to move her waist.

Stunned into one final desperate act, Becca yanked herself up along the length of the table towards the wrist bonds. Somehow her burning biceps, starved of oxygen managed to get her to her hands. She clutched feebly for what seemed like an eternity at the noose around her neck. At first she thought she would black out and die before she could save herself, but slowly, she got her fingers under the cord and began to prise the slip knot noose open. Air. She felt the cool air gush into her lungs and she just lay there for a second gasping in all the air she could. An almighty effort resulted in the noose being pulled wide open - enough for her to get if off her throat. Once off her neck, her legs collapsed back straight again, the circulation now able to pump life back into them. She wanted to rest, to simply lie there and recover, but she knew Andersson would probably already have made the connection and would be down to finish her off himself if he had to. She didn't have much time.

Still breathing heavily, her breasts heaving up and down within her figure clutching costume, Becca worked at the knots on her wrist bonds with her teeth, frantically chewing, pulling and slowly untying.

The door to the cellar burst open at the top of the stairs and Becca knew she had seconds to get off the table before he would kill her. She heard Andersson running downstairs, closing in on the almost free wonder babe.

He bore down on her, his hands outstretched ready to quickly strangle her before she regained too much strength to fight him off. Not an instant too soon, Becca tugged the last of the rope away from her wrists with her teeth and turned her head to see him just feet away. Instinctively, she threw out a back fist punch which smacked him squarely on the jaw, sending him reeling into a pile of old boxes. As he fumbled to find his footing, Becca had sat up and was untying her ankles. She leapt off the table just as he got to his feet, grabbing a steel pole.

"You are one lucky woman, Flaxen! To think, I was almost denied this moment by the bloody British weather!"

"The moment is long passed, dip shit!" Becca was still shaking and frightened, but also wild with rage. "If you really believe you can take me on with a piece of pipe, you're in for a big disappointment!"

"Ah, normally, perhaps...but I'm betting you are nowhere near full strength yet, babe - your exertions in escaping will no doubt have taken a lot out of you.!" With that, he lunged straight at her with the pole. Becca was sluggish and barely ducked in time from the first cross. However, his second swing was more successful as he swung low, swiping her legs from under her and landing her flat on her back. Momentarily stunned, Becca could not react fast enough to avoid him sitting across her waist forcing the pole across her throat. She managed to get her hands to the pole, but her was heavy and his whole body weight seemed poured behind the force on the pole. She struggled again beneath him, a look of fear again on her face. He smiled as he continued to try to strangle her, staring at her beautiful feminine form as it writhed and squirmed helplessly in his clutches, pinned hopelessly beneath him.

" Shame I've got to kill you like this, Flaxen, your struggles are pushing all my buttons at this moment!"

The thought repulsed her. She didn't want this murderous freak this close to her luscious body, but for all her struggling she couldn't seem to throw him off. He had been right - she wasn't at full strength, and the longer her kept pressing the pole into her throat, the weaker she was going to get. She had to try something - and FAST!

Becca licked her lips as she looked helplessly up at him - it was a blatant come on, but she hoped he was too aroused at his hold on her that he would realize.

"One last kiss before you kill me...?"She gasped sensuously, hoping he would take the bait.

Of course, being a red blooded male and extremely horny seeing her struggle so helplessly underneath him, Andersson was suckered in fairly easily. As he leant in to press his mouth to hers, she opened her lips...and bit hard down on the bridge of his nose.

"YYYEEEOOOOWWW! That stung, you..." He yelped, loosening his grip on the pole and covering his nose with one hand. Becca knocked the pole away and punched him hard on the nose again, sending him sprawling in a bloody heap backwards. Leaping to her feet, Becca kicked him hard in the ribs, sure she'd heard a couple of them crack. She raced upstairs and to the front door. She flung the door open and ran down the dirt track, into the pouring rain, still in her sexy costume.

Andersson nursed his broken ribs as he ducked round the back of the house, emerging seconds later on a motorcycle and chasing Becca down the path.

Becca heard the bike bear down on her and she threw herself to the ground out of its path just at the last minute.

"If he runs me over on that thing I won't be in any fit state to fight!" She thought.

Looking around, Becca shot in the direction of the trees and into a heavily wooded area hoping the bike would have trouble following her in. Unfortunately, the trees were still a good distance apart and the bike still gained on her. Becca was running out of steam. She was totally spent. Since the second the power had blown she'd had not a second's rest. The trap had squeezed all the strength out of her and she had not had time to recover. Here she was still running for her life.

Finally, she came out of the trees and was horrified to find a dead end. She was stood at the end of a cliff face overlooking the English Channel, with nowhere to turn except back into the trees and towards her would be killer. The bike bolted out of the trees and headed straight for the terrified titan.

"My God - I'm finished!!" Becca thought as the bike and Andersson bore down on her.

"Die, Flaxen!!" He screamed. She shut her eyes, exhausted and unable to move so much as an inch, awaiting the death that must now surely come.

Andersson's over confidence, however, led to a fatal error. A tiny ditch between himself and Becca knocked the bike slightly off it's deadly trajectory, redirecting a few inches off to the right. The bike did clip Becca, but only superficially, knocking her over into the muddy headland. She opened her eyes to the sound of Andersson screaming as he and the bike took off over the edge of the cliff and drop the two hundred feet into the shallow, rocky shoreline below. The bike exploded into pieces as it hit the rocks, instantly killing it's psychotic rider.

Becca fell back in the muddy grass, the rain soaking her through to the skin. She could not have cared less. She was alive. Even this dark grey soaking wet day couldn't dampen her feeling of relief. She lay there for minutes, recovering in the rain, letting it wash away the fatigue and allowing it to revitalize her. Finally she stood and made her way back to the house where she changed back into her clothes and telephoned for a taxi.

As the cab drew up the path, Becca wondered how long it would be before Androidus found out about his latest failure to murder her. She almost wanted to be a fly on the wall when he received the information about his nephew's failure. But even Becca knew that now one of his relatives had died he would never rest until Flaxen was destroyed.

Becca got into the back of the cab and instructed the driver to take her to her guest house and to wait while she got her things together. Paris was seeming a whole lot more appealing than Brighton now.

The End

Return to Andoidus's Stories

Return to Main Story Page