The sun blazed overhead, blinding Missey.

She closed her eyes and turned her head away as far it could go. Her body ached from the railroad ties and gravel she was forced to lay on. Bound hand and foot to the rails on each side of her.

The sun baked her exposed torso. Whoever the rotter was that kidnapped her, and left her here, removed her blouse and bra. The trousers and boots remained on. Maybe the wanker got off on her jubblies. Whatever the case her fair skin was burning under the sun's glare.

And the damned gag was making matters worse. She was parched. Dying of thirst.
 
It had been hours since she woke up from the chloroform and found herself tied to the railroad tracks like some bloody damsel in a silent movie. Moaning weakly she once again tugged at the unyeilding ropes. The knots still beyond the range of her numbed fingers.

Again utter futility. 

Not for the first time she wondered why this was happening. Was her cover somehow blown? Did the suspect find out she was an Agent of MI6? Or was this the work of someone with a grudge? Someone else she had dealt with? There were several.

But she couldn't recall any from her past who was cornball enough to do this to her. Kidnapping her and bringing her to God knows where. Bound to the tracks like she was bloody Pearl White. And not even have the decency to hang about and gloat?

No. This HAD to do with her current assignment. It had to. But where did it go wrong? How did things get so bolloxed?

Missey couldn't think straight anymore. The sun was getting to her. The pain. The thirst. She was tired and so very weak right now. She was almost on the verge of blacking out. Then she felt it.

The vibrations.

A train was approaching. 



Our perpetual damsel in a fix once again by  Produtions.