It's a team thing | free bondage story

"Gluhhhh…" Her eyes rolling wildly, my colleague's disbelieving, heavily muffled gurgle only just escaped the corners of her tight gag, echoing around the conference room while my hands were bound together behind my back. Kathryn's neat purple blouse was askew as she futilely strained against her bonds. A couple of buttons had already given way under the pressure, inadvertently displaying her lacy bra. The cords were very white against the soft, smooth satin. More ropes circled Kathy's slim waist, pinning her tightly bound hands against the small of her back. Kathryn's slim, shapely legs were logs; bound together at ankles, above her knees and thigh height, she was going nowhere fast.

Another piteous mewing noise escaped Kathryn's mouth as she helplessly squirmed from one side to another on the floor. Her sensible skirt had ridden up, exposing her matching silky French knickers (Simone Perele perhaps?) and I averted my eyes before gazing around the conference room which was to be our prison. I'd never realised that she wore stockings until today either. My head spun as the room circled me like something straight out of a Harry Potter novel. Indeed, I could not believe that this was happening! It'd been a normal day, like any other - until now.

Meetings, helping prepare a new TV campaign for Dell – 'Tell your friends it's a Dell!' (corny huh? - I'm in advertising by the way and that's the kind of thing we do here), going over a set of preliminary sketches for another media campaign – and another stupid team-bonding exercise scheduled later for today, among other things. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Any day that I wasn't run off my feet with work was a cause for concern. Sometimes people don't realise what an intensely competitive world advertising is. There is no such thing as client loyalty – everyone wants results and if that means ditching their preferred agency for another, so be it. Unsurprisingly, corporate espionage is also a problem as everyone vies for that coveted edge which will set them apart from their rivals. Clients also want to know what their competitors are doing as well. The life of an ad-man – or woman is not an easy one. It's hard, tiring, and stressful – but the pay's great.

Sometimes though I wonder if its worth the stress – and ulcers they produced. I'd actually wanted out for a long time but I knew of no other job or career to sustain me in the manner I was used to. It was partly my fault though. I had few interests outside work and none which helped reduce stress. The one interest that I did enjoy was not the kind I could share with anybody though. I was always on the go, go, go – and my doctor said that I needed something to take my mind off everything – what, I had no idea though. I don't enjoy reading and I can't sit still at places like resorts for long. Work was my life right now, with everything that entailed. Like this new team building thing.

We've gotta work together as a team like no other industry I know. Success is everything – and it's only possible by pulling together. Hence the recent emphasis on all this team-bonding bullshit. We'd gotten along well enough without this kind of thing for years but it was the latest terribly 'in' corporate fad - and we followed the crowd like so many sheep. There was nothing in the least surprising how competitive this team-bonding stuff was, as our contemporaries vied with each other to out-do everyone else – climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, paintball warfare, army boot camps, white-water rafting and so on. That's the ad game for you. It was all about one-upmanship, just like the latest, biggest and most expensive boats my bosses bought – and never used. One guy I knew owned a ten million-dollar hundred-footer – and as far as I knew, his beautiful vessel never left the marina where it lived. Boats should be used and enjoyed, not showed off like this. Oh well.

Today though, team bonding was the last thing on my mind as I paid off the cabbie who'd delivered us here. It was raining – again. My clear plastic raincoat glimmered with moisture as each horizontal drop struck the hood which I'd tightly tied in place around my head with a musical 'pitter-patter' before streaming downwards. It'd been seeing a lot of use lately. So much for global warming, I irritably thought as Kathy fussily adjusted the hem of her blue plastic jelly jacket before opening her umbrella with a loud 'pop!'

My boss had called me earlier with an urgent request – a new client wanted to see us and could I go out with someone from the art department? Of course I could – and it was so how I found myself out here with shy, studious Kathryn. Thin, petite Kathy looked like the slightest breeze would blow her away any moment. How she'd found employment here, I had no idea. Advertising is an industry for the extroverted. We had some real mouths in here; smart confident people who knew the right moves, the right words, the right everything. People who could woo the hardest clients at the drop of a hat. Katty Kat was none of these things and I inwardly sighed. Her wide, round glasses were misting up already and I wondered if she had the backbone for this job.

My irritation grew as the taxi roared away, annoyed because we hadn't left a tip (instead paying by card, which would require him to declare his income). We'd only wanted a ride across town, not a Formula One demonstration. Didn't they understand that I was a busy gal? I had my hands full with the demanding Dellies (as some unkindly termed the computer giant) and Security had been on my back lately relating to the most recent incident of corporate espionage – nothing major, just another hacker attack, but they'd been unusually persistent. I would have to change my password later. Just another headache among many. I even had a security guard accompany me everywhere around town during one particularly bitter corporate war before it fizzled out. I carry a lot of secrets and my firm wanted to keep me safe – 'protecting our interests,' as my less than sensitive boss once observed. As the biggest, priciest firm among many, it was par for the course. Now I was out here visiting some nothing firm – why?

My puzzlement – and unease grew as I gloomily surveyed the mean streets. Garbage choked the gutters struggling to cope with the heavy rainfall. Almost every business was boarded up – although lights illuminated the dark, graffiti-covered walls here and there. A nondescript truck rolled out of a nearby warehouse before turning and disappearing down the road. A parking ticket decorated the windscreen of an old Ford that its owner would never drive away – its wheels had vanished, leaving it perched high and dry on several blocks of wood. The scene was positively Gothic and I shivered. Real Godfathers stuff. It was exactly the kind of place where one might be abducted and… Come on! I chided myself. I knew that I was being silly. I've got an overactive imagination – an essential prerequisite in advertising but occasionally it could be a curse.

"Not a very cheerful day, is it?" Kathryn timidly offered as another blast of wind struck us with a shower of rain and hail.

"How observant," I sarcastically replied before regretting my words. It wasn't Kathryn's fault that we were out here. More gently, I said, "Maybe the ducks'll be happy though. Now I just wonder where this place is."

"Who are these people anyway?" Kathy curiously asked.

"All I know is that its some Chinese company or other," I replied. Why did I have this bad feeling in my stomach? I wanted to turn and run – but of course, I could do no such thing.

"I think we just passed them," Kathy said, pointing upwards and I squinted into the rain doing its best to drown me.

Ka-Ching Trading – Import and Export. The faded sign was so nondescript and faded that I could hardly read the lettering with its Chinese equivalent just below.

"Yep, that's the one," I smiled, relieved that we'd found them so quickly. Their warehouse was simply one among many – although no graffiti covered its dirty red brick walls. A blackened door offered the only means of ingress that I could see and I nervously rang the doorbell. My antennae were twitching and I've learned the hard way never to ignore them. Surely nothing could happen here though? Chinese were always mysterious bastards anyway. The wealthiest individuals (some of whom we regularly worked for) never, ever advertised their wealth, unlike most of my showy colleagues.

An intercom rudely buzzed us and I jumped. "Yah?" a distinctly Oriental voice said.

"Hi, it's Tara Moss from Denison and Denison!" I yelled back as a truck roared by.

"Ok, wait!"

"I don't like them," Kathy muttered. "They are so rude!"

I nodded. "It's just the way they are."

Suddenly the door was flung open. Taken aback, I instinctively stepped backward before realising that the sweet young thing holding it open couldn't possibly harm us. Her delicate, inscrutable Oriental features might have been carved out of stone for all the emotion they displayed. Her white cheong-sam with its classic Mandarin collar served to merely highlight her beauty. The girl was lovely, an exquisite Oriental flower and I began to relax. I'd been imagining things as usual.

Her sweet, ruby Suzie-Wong lips opened. "Come."

"Thanks," I replied, ushering Kathy through before gratefully stepping out of the driving rain.

"May I take your raincoats?" Suzie Wong offered. Her English was excellent with only the faintest trace of an accent betraying her origins.

"What is your name?" Kathryn cheerfully asked, obviously determined to make an impression as the girl took our dripping rainwear.

"My name is May May," she replied in a flat, emotionless voice. "Please follow me. Shu Qui is expecting you."