This story is a fetish bondage story, which includes both consensual and non-consensual sexual acts. If such things bother you, please don't read it. It is tongue-in-cheek fiction. The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.
Copyright 2018 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions
It was March 1962 at the height of the Cold War...
Chapter 19 – A Honored Few
The trip to Father Rizzo's cabin seemed like an eternity to Isabel. The drive up into the mountains was particularly slow. Except when they were going through small towns, Father Rizzo had one hand on the steering wheel and the other fondling some part of her body. At one point he purposely tried to give her a climax and almost succeeded. Isabel was almost grateful when they arrived at their destination although she knew that her hellish experience would even get worse.
The small wooden cabin was surrounded by a significant number of trees, mostly pine trees. Isabel had no idea where she was. She tried to read traffic signs, which were few and far between, as they drove. Father Rizzo's fondling of her body was so constant that it distracted her. It wasn't rough fondling. It was more like caressing and her body responded. Often her eyes would be closed as his attentions forced her to concentrate on what she was feeling. It wasn't that Isabel was enjoying what he was doing to her – she didn't. But his attentions, mixed with her fears, made it difficult to concentrate on anything.
Father Rizzo left Isabel tied in the car while he took groceries from the small trunk inside, taking time to put the food away. He was going to enjoy a couple of days with his new girl. She wouldn't enjoy them quite so much, he knew from past experience. At some point, he would pick a spot on his property and dig a grave. Then he would have to dispose of her after he took a long time to kill her. He preferred strangulation. He would do it over and over again, each time bring her closer to death, then reviving her so he could do it all over again. He actually regretted having to kill the pretty girls, each one of them pleading through their gags that they wouldn't turn him in. He knew they were lying and simply couldn't take the chance that they would report him to the police. Once he had decided that it was necessary to dispose of his playthings, he found a way to make killing enjoyable as well.
Father Rizzo untied Isabel's feet and dragged her into the cabin. He reached under the headscarf that he had tied over her head to hide her gag and untied the scarf gag. He pulled it out of her mouth, leaving the headscarf in place. He allowed Isabel to spit out the handkerchief that was in her mouth. The priest forced the young woman to her knees and unbuckled his trousers, letting them drop. She could see the significant bulge under the man's shorts. Isabel tried to say something but was still recovering from having been gagged for such a long period of time. She shook her head, but he dropped his shorts revealing his manhood. Isabel opened her mouth to plead with him, but he jammed his rod deep into her mouth causing her to gag.
Truthfully, Isabel had never been with a man before and she really didn't know what to do. Still, it didn't take much to realize what was expected so she closed her lips around his engorged member. She wanted to sink her teeth into it but knew that she would be severely punished, maybe even killed right then and there, if she did so. She could feel his manhood grow and although she found the taste revolting, she didn't fight him but rather tried to please him.
For the priest, forcing a woman to do this to him, to satisfy him this way, brought him the ultimate satisfaction. He held her scarf-covered head with his two hands and directed her motions. Women covered their heads in church to honor God. Father Rizzo liked his women to have their heads covered in silk to honor him when he forced them to satisfy his carnal urges. It was, after all, he believed, the proper place for a woman – on her knees in front of her man, satisfying him. The only pleasure the woman got was knowing that she was satisfying her man. Of course, for his abducted playthings there was no pleasure, only the knowledge that she would live a few more hours by doing what he desired.
Father Rizzo came hard, shooting the stream into Isabel's mouth. She retched as she tried to swallow the creamy flow. The priest kept pumping as his cum spilled out over her lips and down her chin, dripping onto her dress. Finally, he was done and withdrew. He pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned himself and then bent down and cleaned Isabel's face. She didn't even resist when he forced the cum-soaked handkerchief into her mouth. He took another handkerchief folding it into a wide band. The priest tied it over her mouth and the headscarf.
Father Rizzo pulled Isabel up and directed her to a small bed in a tiny room, off from the main room of the cabin. He forced her to lie on her back on the bed. There was already cord tied to the wrought-iron footboard of the bed. Isabel noted that there seemed to be blood on the cord. He went to the chest of drawers and extracted four silk scarves. He wrapped a silk scarf around each of Isabel's ankles, knotting it. He then took the rope and secured each ankle over to the bed. Isabel realized that the silk scarf was to protect her skin from the rope. The rope had some slack in it, which she realized later, made it easier for him to manipulate her body during sex.
With her feet secured, the priest pulled her up to a sitting position and untied her wrists. Bringing them from behind her back, he allowed her to rub her wrists, which had obvious ligature marks. He got up and returned quickly with some cream, which she gently rubbed on the red marks. Satisfied, he tied the remaining scarves around each of her wrists. Father Rizzo forced her to lie back down, with a pillow under her head. He brought one wrist at a time up to the wrought-iron headboard of the bed and used a cord to securely bind it in place above her head. Unlike her feet, Isabel couldn't move her arms at all. The priest then went and attached small bells to the cords binding Isabel's wrists and ankles.
"I see from your identification that your name is Isabel. Such a pretty name. I know that being tied up like this is unpleasant, but necessary. That gag probably isn't necessary, but I have no desire to talk with you and keeping you gagged ensures that any conversation is one way. Besides, you look fetching like that," Father Rizzo smiled as he took a knife and began cutting Isabel's dress, "Those little bells will alert me if you are trying to escape or struggling too much. If I hear them, I may need to punish you, which would be most unfortunate. So stay still and accept your fate." Having cut the shoulder straps off of her dress and pulling it down to reveal her lacy bra, he used the knife to slice the bra in two between her breasts. He pulled what was left of the bra out of the way to reveal almost perfect mounds of flesh, heaving flesh. Her eyes were wide as she watched him play with her feminine attributes. Caressing, kissing, sucking her nipples – doing the things a lover would do, but he was definitely not her lover.
After a few minutes of indulging himself, the priest moved down to her lower body and pulled up her dress to her waist. He then pulled her panties down to her knees. He caressed her twat with his hands and then put his head between her legs and licked her clit. Isabel screamed with surprise through her gag as he continued to explore her lady sex with his mouth and tongue. Isabel closed her eyes as a minor climax hit her. No, no, she thought. This bastard is going to kill me. Then he abruptly stopped.
Father Rizzo got up and went to the cabinet at the end of the bed. He opened up the two doors and swung them apart. In the middle of the cabinet was the makings of a torture chamber, Isabel supposed. Assorted ropes, straps, stacks of handkerchiefs and scarves, which she assumed he used for gags or blindfolds. Other devices she didn't want to think about. But it was on the inside of the doors that had swung open that caught her attention. He took her identification card and added it to the back of the cabinet door along with dozens, maybe 100 or more, of identification cards of young women. Had he killed all these women or just abused them? Isabel now knew that she was truly dealing with a human monster.
"These have been my honored guests. Some the church where I work, yes I am a priest if in name only. Many of them have been guests up here. Isabel my dear, you are one of the honored few," Father Rizzo smiled broadly, clearly proud of himself, "Let's get you started, shall we?" He approached her on the bed, sitting down beside her. The priest took her breast in his hand and used his mouth to suck her nipple until it was hard. He then produced what must've been an industrial clothespin, which he clamped on the erect nipple. Isabel screamed through her gag much to the delight of her captor. He did the same for her other breast.
"It's time for me to cook dinner for myself. I'd offer you some, but it is difficult to eat with the gag in your mouth. Remember, Isabel, don't squirm too much. I wouldn't want to hear those bells," the priest told his helpless captive. He left her there, closing the door behind him.
Isabel tried to ignore the discomfort caused by the clothespins on her ultra sensitive-nipples. She had to figure out a way to escape, even if it meant killing this man. He was clearly a menace to society, particularly to young women who crossed his path. But first she had to get free and she had to do it without ringing those damn bells. She was determined not to let this bastard win.
Chapter 20 – Stacy's New Career
"I'm still working on those translations of Rosa's secret diary," Giovanna told Stacy early the next morning when she met her, "Are you ready to go to work? You won't meet the Cardinal in charge of the financial section until tomorrow when he returns from a trip. I've arranged for someone to introduce you to your coworkers and to show you the ropes of your new job. As a new Assistant to the Cardinal appointed by the Pope, no one will be surprised if you look through all of the books. That will be easier to do while the Cardinal is away. Tomorrow, Susan will make an appearance at the Vatican." The Italian beauty or a perfectly tailored off-white cloth coat with white gloves and black pumps. Underneath the coat, was a pretty blue skirt and white blouse combination. Over her raven hair was a cream colored silk scarf with small red roses on it, neatly tied under her chin.
"I'm certainly glad for all those accounting classes in college when I thought my career was going to be in accounting," Stacy grinned.
"Stacy, I mean Signorina Donna Cresto, did you bring a scarf with you?” Giovanna asked seeing that Stacy wasn't wearing one that morning.
“I have one in my purse, but it was such a nice day I thought I would do without it,” Stacy replied with a questioning look.
“When you're in the Vatican you will have to keep your head covered at all times either with a mantilla or scarf. While technically portions of the Vatican probably don't require one, it's safer to wear one whenever you are in the Vatican compound. You will see that all female employees of the Vatican do this," Giovanna explained. Stacy took a plain white silk scarf out of her purse and tied it over her hair prior to entering the Vatican.
Instead of going to where all the tourists go, Giovanna took Stacy to the administrative office where she was given a badge to clip-on her blouse. From there an office worker took Stacy to where she was going to be working. There were perhaps 12 other women busily making entries by hand in accounting books. They looked at her with suspicion. The workers did not like people who audited their work, which is what they assumed Stacy was about to do. Stacy was led to a little cubicle with a small window to the outside providing some indirect lighting. There was a table in the middle of the small room with one wooden chair. On the table were a pile of ledgers, apparently the overview of the past few months of financial dealings. Her escort announced her as a new employee to the other workers. Stacy thanked the woman who had brought her to her workspace. She noted that the other women in the room were whispering and looking her way. Stacy certainly felt like on welcomed in her new role.
The next several hours she spent going over these accounting books. She tried to make sense of all the numbers and the flow of money in and out of various accounts. The books didn't seem to make sense, but Stacy didn't know if this was because of her lack of understanding of their methodology or because of a real problem in their accounting. Just as she was about to give up and take a break, one of the woman accountants got up from her desk and wandered over to Stacy's cubicle.
"Signorina, welcome to our small part of the Vatican," the woman said in a loud voice. She was perhaps in her late 30s with a stocky build. She wore a pink blouse with a red skirt and matching pumps. She wore red gloves and a red and white checkered silk headscarf. Her glasses had a beaded string that went around her neck so she could remove her glasses and they would sit on her breasts. Stacy smiled and returned her greeting.
"Are you here to replace Signorina Rosa?" the woman said in a whisper, "The rumor is that she is missing and perhaps murdered because of her work here." Stacy shrugged her shoulders, not wishing to confide in this woman.
"Please – I can help you. I have worked here for nearly 20 years. I know things. There are secret rooms and passages," the woman said in an almost imperceptible voice. This piqued Stacy's interest, but before she could speak, the woman put a finger to her lips.
"Not here! Meet in the ladies water closet in 30 minutes. We'll talk there," the woman said in a whisper and then loudly, "My name is Lydia. Again, welcome to the Vatican." The woman named Lydia went back to where she was working.
About 20 minutes later, Stacy saw Lydia get up from her work area and head down the hall toward the ladies water closet. She figured that the woman wanted Stacy to leave at a different time so she waited.
At the appointed time, Stacy got up from her chair and walked back toward the ladies water closet. When she went in there was no one there. She looked in all three stalls but could find nothing. There was the distinct smell of Lydia's perfume. Then something caught her eye and Stacy went to investigate. On the floor in a corner were several glistening beads, which Stacy recognized as having come from the cord of the woman's glasses. Stacy suspected the worst. Something bad had happened to Lydia. Stacy checked several of the other nearby rooms they were all locked. Seeing nothing that could be done at the moment, Stacy returned to her work cubicle. At least two other workers were absent from the work area. Stacy didn't know what to make of that. It might not have any significance whatsoever because the workers came and went at different times for different reasons. Lydia did not return to work. Someone said that she had gone home sick, but Stacy doubted that.
Chapter 21 – No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Lydia had heard Stacy, the woman she knew as Signorina Donna Cresto when she came looking for her. She desperately wanted to alert Signorina Cresto to the danger, to her danger. She couldn't. If she did, she feared that both she and Donna Cresto would be killed. She was being held in a secret room adjacent to the ladies water closet. Physically held by two women, two of her coworkers. There was a hand wearing a white cotton glove that covered her mouth stifling any attempt to cry out with crushing efficiency. The same woman that held her mouth had Lydia's right arm twisted up behind her back, painfully applying pressure when the woman attempted to squirm. Another woman held a small knife at her throat.
Lydia knew that talking to the new person, probably some sort of investigator would be dangerous. But something was going on in the financial division of the Vatican. She knew this from the Rosa woman, who may have disappeared. Lydia felt that she had to take a chance and give some guidance to this new person and to explain to her the dangers that she might face.
She felt the best place to have a brief conversation would be in the ladies water closet. With some exceptions, it was usually empty and because of the toilets, it was relatively soundproof. Lydia wanted to make sure that she arrived before Donna Cresto so that the others wouldn't suspect that this was a clandestine meeting. Only, she was spotted by two of the newest hires. They had been hired directly by the Cardinal, which was unusual for workers in the finance department. A few seconds after Lydia had entered the water closet, the door opened again and her two coworkers came in.
"Going to meet someone, sweetie. Perhaps that new girl? The Cardinal doesn't like tattletales," the taller of the two women hissed.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I just came in here to relieve myself and to wash up," Lydia tried to act innocent.
"Just like you met with that Rosa bitch?" the second, shorter woman, pointed her finger at Lydia's chest. A knock came at the door.
"That signal means that your new friend is on her way here. Let's do it," the first woman instructed. Do what? What could they do in the ladies water closet? The blow to Lydia's stomach took her totally by surprise, knocking the wind out of her. The taller woman turned her around and clamped her hand over Lydia's mouth. Lydia tried to resist by clawing at the woman's hand, but the woman grabbed her right arm and forced it behind her back. The second woman went to the back of the water closet and pushed something. She then pushed a section of the wall out of the way. Lydia fought as best she could and in the short struggle her glasses were pulled from her face, falling to the floor. The beads on the string attached to the classes went flying. Lydia was pulled into the small room and the second woman did her best to clean up the debris from the fight, including Lydia's glasses. The section of wall was put back in place so that it appeared seamless. When Lydia continued to try to struggle, the second woman pulled out a knife and put it to Lydia's throat.
They listened as the woman known as Donna Cresto inspected the water closet, but soon left.
"Now what do we do with this traitorous bitch?" The shorter assailant asked her partner.
"Make her quietly comfortable here. The nuns can pick her up tonight after everyone's gone. She will be their problem. I'm sure that they have ways of dealing with people like her," the taller woman replied as Lydia squirmed in her arms, "I have a cord in my purse to tie her. Have anything to gag her with?"
"I knew I brought an extra headscarf for some reason. It's cheap and old, but will fit in her big mouth nicely," the second woman snickered as she pulled out a medium-size silk square from her purse. Lydia shook her head and wanted to protest, but the hand over her mouth prevented that. That hand slipped down under her chin and squeezed her cheeks hard. The second woman, with the knife still at Lydia's throat, began to push the plain white wadded silk scarf into Lydia's mouth. Even before it was fully in place, Lydia was choking and retching on the silk wad. She could taste the woman's perfume or was it hairspray? The second woman continued to push and prod the silk wad until it was fully behind her teeth. Lydia's mouth was open as wide as it could go to accept the wad. One corner of the scarf Extended back toward Lydia's throat, triggering her gag reflex. Neither woman paid any attention to Lydia's distress. Both of her hands were brought behind her back and bound tightly by the taller woman, who seemed to know what she was doing.
Lydia was pushed down to her knees and she felt a run develop in her stockings. Damn, she thought, These women be more careful. Didn't they know how precious stockings were? Lydia felt cord being wrapped around her ankles as the shorter woman untied Lydia's headscarf. Another cord was wrapped between Lydia's bound wrists and bound ankles. The second woman twirled the triangularly folded headscarf into a silk rope. She forced the middle of it into Lydia's mouth, compressing the wad even deeper. Bringing the ends behind that he is head, she tied a half knot pulling it as tight as she could. Lydia grunted in response. The shorter woman finished the tie with a very tight square knot.
"Make sure that gag is really tight. You know how his Eminence dislikes sloppy work," the taller woman said.
"My gags are tight. You should worry about how well you tied her, not my gags. Besides, didn't his Eminence say there was something to put troublemakers to sleep in here someplace?" the shorter woman said irritated. The taller woman looked around and picked the bottle up off of a small shelf.
Lydia's eyes were wide. She was terrified of being bound and gagged, but being forced to sleep – she felt the warm stream between her legs – she was that scared and now she was embarrassed. The two women seemed unaware of what had happened. The shorter one brought the ends of Lydia scarf, the one tied in her mouth, to the front of her face. The taller woman poured the liquid from a brown bottle onto the end of the scarf. The shorter woman then held Lydia's head and forced the scarf over her nose. Lydia fought and squirmed in her bonds, but the two women held her tightly.
Lydia wondered if she would ever wake up. She felt her body relax and her ability to squirm in her bonds decreased. The first woman reapplied the liquid to the scarf end. The scarf was forced over her nose again. Lydia had to breathe the anesthesia that saturated the end of the scarf. She tried to think of what she should do, realizing that there was nothing to be done. The shorter woman's face, framed by a floral headscarf secured under her chin, began to go in and out of focus. She felt her eyes flutter and then Lydia's world went black.
Chapter 22 – Lost Night
Stacy saw two women returned to their posts a few minutes after she had left the water closet. She wondered if they had anything to do with Lydia's disappearance. There was no way of knowing, but she made a note of who they were. Then and there, Stacy determined that she would find out what it happened to Lydia. To do that, she had to stay after hours without anyone knowing.
When the time came to go home, Stacy made a big show of ready to leave. She didn't know how to get in touch with Giovanni. They had decided that was best that they have minimal contact at the Vatican. Stacy would have to do her snooping all by herself. The only thing that bothered her was that she didn't have her gun with her.
As Stacy prepared to leave, she made sure that she was behind the others. The two women she worried about most had left relatively early, which was a relief. Stacy easily unlocked an office door and slipped in to wait until it was quiet. She waited several hours. Even the hallways were dark now so Stacy took out a small flashlight and maneuvered her way out of the office and down the hallway to the ladies water closet. She opened the door, propping it open. She wanted to have a quick exit if someone surprised her.
"Lydia," Stacy whispered. She repeated the call a couple of times. Then she heard something from behind the back wall. Stacy went to the back and began to feel for some type of catch or switch. She felt something give on the edge of the wall and she heard the click. With her hands, she pressed and forced the wall to one side. She pointed the flashlight at one corner and saw nothing. Hearing the moan again, Stacy swept the flashlight to the other corner. There was Lydia, eyes wide. She was clearly tightly bound and unable to move. Lydia's headscarf was tied tightly in her mouth, but clearly, something else was also packed in her mouth. The headscarf was wet with spittle around her mouth making it look darker than the rest of the scarf. Having been gagged herself, Stacy immediately felt sorry for the hapless woman. Realizing that Lydia couldn't see her, Stacy turned the flashlight on herself. There was a sigh of relief from Lydia.
"Lydia, I'll have you out in a few seconds," Stacy said in a soothing voice. Instead of calming the woman, Stacy's voice seemed to have the opposite effect.
A sharp pain exploded in the back of her head. Stacy collapsed to her knees. Leaving the door to the water closet open allowed whoever had hit her to sneak in behind her quietly. Stacy wanted to fight back, but the blow had incapacitated her. The person, who had hit her, knew what they were doing. She turned her head enough to see a nun, one with a white face. There were two other nuns. The nun closest to her held a blackjack and was ready to hit her again. One of the other nuns put up her hand, knelt behind Stacy and clamped a cloth over her face and nose. The smell was intense. Stacy recognized it as chloroform. Stacy tried to think of some defensive move, but defensive moves required the ability to control one's body. The blow to the back of her head had left her totally defenseless, at least for the moment. There was an irony of getting back into the spy business only to be murdered on your first night back. So much for being a top agent, Stacy thought as she inhaled the fumes and felt her body getting weaker. The nun was now holding her so she wouldn't fall over. Then the woman let go and as Stacy slipped to the floor the other nun used the blackjack one more time. Stacy didn't feel the pain from the blow because she was already unconscious.
Chapter 23 – Please Just Kill Me
Isabel wished that she was already dead. Each time the priest used her he made it more painful. Apparently, he enjoyed her pain, not just the sex. And he never seemed to tire of the sex. He used her every couple of hours always in a different way. She always remained bound although how she was bound changed. Although much of the time she was tied to the bed, sometimes she was bound with her hands behind her back so she could service him on her knees. At other times he bound her to the foot of the bed, arms spread out wide so that he could use her from behind. Isabel had no idea that a man could have so much endurance when it came to sex. She was sore all over and exhausted.
In the late afternoon, he tied her to the bed again and told her that he was going out to dig her grave. He informed her that he always did it the day before he murdered his guests. His rationale was that he gave them time to come to peace with what was going to happen, to prepare themselves. The truth was, of course, to add even more terror to the last few hours. The other reason was more practical. He simply didn't want to have to dig a grave right before his long drive back to the city.
Isabel worked feverishly to try to get herself untied. Her hands were bound once again to the wrought-iron headboard. He had changed her gag. Her mouth was packed with a handkerchief, a fresh one, and then he had forced her to accept a red rubber ball behind her teeth. The ball had straps on it that went around her head and were secured with a buckle. He attached not one, but two, small locks which would have to be removed before the gag could be removed from her mouth. Isabel wondered why he would use such a device on her now. Of course, her main focus was simply getting untied and not ringing the bells that were attached to her bondage.
Coming in after digging her grave, the bastard told her that she would be buried in a beautiful location. He proceeded to use her. Isabel was past the point of caring about the sex. She just laid there and turned her mind off. That's not totally true. As he pumped his juices in her, she was thinking about all the ways she could kill him. Isabel had never thought that she could ever kill another human being. She couldn't even kill an animal. Then she realized, he wasn't human. He was scarier than any animal and she could kill him without giving it a second thought.
After Father Rizzo had finished with her, he made himself dinner and then went to bed in another room. At least she had some respite from his constant sexual demands. Isabel knew it was now or never for escape. She worked as quietly as she could on the knots. He had gotten quite sloppy in his tying efforts. She could reach both of the knots that held her wrists in place. It wasn't easy, but it was possible. Her fingernails were long since broken. Isabel had spent hours filling in shaping her perfect fingernails, allowing them to grow long. Now they were history. The shorter fingernails were actually easier for picking at the knots.
Isabel had no idea how long it had taken her, but finally one of the knots gave. She wiggled her wrist out and even in the dim light, she could see the red bands – the ligature marks – that would take weeks to heal assuming she survived. The scarves that he had tied around her wrists and ankles to protect them from the cords had been removed in the morning. He felt that they didn't allow him to tie her tightly enough. She quickly and as quietly as possible untied her other wrist and finally her leg bindings. The little bells had rung as they had from time to time. Apparently, she had been quiet enough because she heard him snoring in the other room.
Isabel pulled at the ball gag in her mouth and she tried to unbuckle it. Neither effort was successful and she knew that she couldn't wait any longer. She looked around for her shoes. They were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were out in the front room, she hoped. When she left the bedroom, Isabel paused every time the floor creaked. Much to her dismay, not only couldn't she find her shoes or any shoes. All the jackets that had been hanging by the door were gone. “Merda," she thought to herself. Did she dare go into his bedroom? No, that would be suicide. She quietly went to the front door of the cabin, unlocked it, and slipped out into the cold.
And it was cold. Isabel took stock of her situation. Her dress was in tatters, but still wearable. Still, the wind blew right through it. She had no bra. She had her panties because he had left them around her knees. They felt good to wear again. Her nylons already had runs in them and would provide little protection against the rough ground with pebbles, rocks, and sharp needles. She still had on the headscarf, which he forced her to wear. The ball gag was buckled over it, but Isabel didn't care because it provided warmth. If she was going to survive, she had to ignore the cold and the pain that she knew she would experience. She slowly started down the path that the car had taken up to the house. She knew that she would have to go into the woods at some point to avoid him, but for now, she would try to follow the path.
Back at the cabin, Father Rizzo watched her as she moved slowly away from the cabin. He loved this part of his vacations. He knew that he could sleep for another couple of hours. Even if the young signorina could run as fast as she could, she wouldn't reach any help. He would have the pleasure of chasing her down and strangling her when he caught her. If all went right, he would be on his way back to town and his parishioners by midmorning. The woman known as Isabel would disappear forever, just another one of his trophies.
The ball gag probably wasn't needed. Only one of his guests had ever come within yelling distance of help. If she had been able to scream, Father Rizzo might well be in prison right now. But she had been gagged just as Isabel was currently gagged and no one heard her. Father Rizzo had allowed her to get oh so close to rescue before he swept her up, dashing all of her hope. That had been a real turn on, but usually, his prey never got that close to help. A few of them never got free from the bed, much to his dismay. When that happened, the priest took them to their grave, gave them last rites, and put them out of their misery, using them before and after.
Yes, the morning was going to be exciting. Father Rizzo turned and went back to bed, setting an alarm so he didn't have to rush the final chase and capture.
Chapter 24 – Modestia, Signorina Cesto, Modestia
The pounding pain in Stacy's head was the first thing that she noticed. The second was that she was incredibly cold. The third was she was alive, a fact that surprised her. She might have been more grateful about being alive if her head didn't hurt so much and if she wasn't so cold.
Stacy spent several minutes just listening. Although she could hear some noises that were a long distance away, there was no one close to her. No guard. She opened her eyes slowly and glanced around. There was only a dull light coming from under the door – the door that led where? Somehow she knew that she was in a water closet, but it had a different feel from the ladies water closet where she had found Lydia. She could see the stalls for toilets. This room was bigger than the other one. Why would she have been moved, Stacy wondered. And then she saw it. A man's a urinal. Crap! Why was she in a man's water closet?
Stacy was lying on her back. Actually, she was lying on her arms. She tried to move and she couldn't. She also couldn't bring her arms from behind her back, they were tied at the wrists. Her legs were tied on either side of the stall opening and she was facing directly where men would come in the door. Merda!
The reason she was cold was quite simple. Stacy was stark naked and lying on a very cold floor. She cried out, but only she heard the cry. Of course, they had gagged her. Something soft and silky was wadded up in her mouth and it didn't take her long to figure out what it was. They had stuffed Stacy's own panties in her mouth as a gag. Something was holding it in place. It was also soft and silky but tied very tightly. It was her own headscarf, Stacy surmised.
It was a perfect plan. A man, perhaps a priest, would walk in and find her there. At a minimum, the Vatican would throw her out on her butt. Beyond that, she would be totally humiliated and everyone in the Vatican and perhaps all of Roma would hear about it. As she was in Italy – it could happen in any country really, if the wrong man came in and found her, her wide open legs would be considered an invitation to screw her. Talk about being compromised as an agent. Stacy struggled but was hopelessly secure. The people who had done this to her knew how to tie a woman so that she couldn't move or summoned help.
After struggling for 30 minutes and making no progress, Stacy gave up, exhausted. Even though she was cold, the exertion had caused sweat the form over most of her body. That was just adding to her misery as she shivered on the floor.
To Be Continued...