Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Witness and Victim - Loona Hartman

by Johanna L. Wolff

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© Copyright 2021 - Johanna L. Wolff - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; bond; kidnap; hood; gag; straps; harness; armbinder; bagged; packaged; transport; pain; feeding; nc; XXX

“So, you state, Ms. Hartman, that you reported the discrepancy immediately?”

“Objection, your honor. The defense attorneys are badgering the witness. Ms. Hartman clearly stated that she reported her findings to the head of accounting, then the CEO, but was fired before reporting to the board. The notice of termination is on record, as is the board meeting date two days later. The head of accounting tried and convicted of malfeasance, fraud, and a host of other fiscal crimes awaits sentencing. May I redirect, your honor?”

“Objection sustained. Has the defense any new questions not along this line? No, then I assume the defense rests. Good. Mr. Deputy Prosecutor, you may redirect.”

“Ms. Hartman, what happened when you arrived at the CEO’s office?”

“Mr. Drummond, head of accounting, was there, as were four security guards. The guards took my key-card access, which I need to access the building and computers. They shoved me out to the lift then handed me over to the awaiting police, who charged me with espionage. I spent three weeks in prison without formal charges or ability to access an attorney.

Then, while a search of my home found files, three of them were time-stamped after my incarceration. Fortunately, earlier inquiries with the FTC and the ABC raised flags, and two representatives, one from each, came to question me in prison. Released on their directive, I am in custody of the marshals and witness protection.”

“Tell me, Ms. Hartman, what happened two nights ago?”

“Objection, your honor. Ms. Hartman’s private life has little bearing on this trial.”

“Your honor. The defense is drawing out the trial looking to keep Ms. Hartman in the city. We wish to show you why and how dangerous it is, your honor.”

“Objection, your honor! The implication of that statement is tantamount to witness tampering and conspiracy. I demand that the prosecution is silenced and apologize.”

“Mr. Defence Attorney, how can I rule the prosecution to silence and have them apologize at the same time. Aside, I wish to hear where this is leading and will rule on the matter then. Continue, Mr. Deputy Prosecutor.”

“Thank you, your honor. Despite the presence of Marshalls 24/7, a thorough search found that Ms. Hartman’s safe house was booby-trapped and her food poisoned. We have allocated an off-the-book location for Ms. Hartman. We ask that this witness be allowed to leave the city and state lest one of these attacks is successful.”

“Objection, your honor! We have a whole host of questions for this witness.”

“I think a week has been enough, Mr. Defence Attorney. I have not heard any new questions this week, so I am inclined to agree. Both objections are overruled. Do you have any other witnesses, Mr. Defence Attorney?”

“Yes, your honor, we have an updated witness list…”

“We have arrived, Ms. Hartman. This is an unregistered safehouse; well, actually, it is a vacant property that we sourced through a realtor friend. There are marshals inside for your protection.

Sometime after midnight, the Wizard will come and spirit you away. They are an independent contractor, former British Secret Service, retired, and not registered with the Marshalls or us. They are unorthodox but effective. Your offshore anonymous banking account is set up, and you have the access codes. You also have my number if you need it, but never call from where you are relocated; instead use a location far away. Remember the Alice in Wonderland lines? Yes, good.

“On a personal note, Ms. Hartman. Thank you. We have badgered away at getting that crook for over ten years. We would have caught him eventually, but you put that extra nail in his coffin. So, unless anything goes wrong, Good luck and have a safe life…”

Entering the house, a sole white-haired woman welcomed, “I am the Witch, Ms. Hartman. Come in, please, and do not switch on the light; thank you.”

Loona Hartman closed the door and asked, “Oh, I was meant to meet the Wizard and the Marshalls.”

The Witch replied, “Yes, and a marvelous job they were doing, including not knowing that a female Wizard is called a witch. Don’t you have a recognition sentence for me?”

Loona replied, “Oh yes. If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense.”

The Witch replied, “Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t.”

Loona asked, “What now, Ms. Witch?”

Cat-like, smooth, and efficient, the Witch stood. Her athletic body sported an impressively small waist, strong shoulders, and a latex catsuit. She stood tall in high solid to the knee heeled boots, leather jacket, hood, wide belt with a gun on each side, and gloves. The Witch instructed, “I need you to take off all your clothes and put them in this bag.” When Loona hesitated, the Witch encouraged, “Ms., we have a way to go, and I expect men unfriendly to my cause to arrive here soon, and they will not be happy.”

Loona quickly undressed, and when bared, she stared at the barrel of a gun. The Witch threw a set of straps and belts to her and commanded, “Put this on.”

Bewildered, Loona asked, “What are you doing to me?”

The Witch answered, “Shooting you, if you do not do exactly as I tell you. The length of your life will depend on the fun and pleasure I derive from your presence until my next job. It could be days or months, but unless you obey, your life will be measured in seconds.”

Loona looked at the gun and pleaded, “What use is my death? The court case…” she got no further. The Witch stuffed a wedge in her mouth and forced it so far down Loona’s throat that she gagged, and her jaws exploded in pain. Then Loona felt a tight rubber hood pulled over her head, then a leather hood, and felt it tightening. Anytime she struggled, the Witch plugged her breathing holes.

The Witch ordered, “Any further resistance will reduce my fun, and I may have to seriously hurt you for our holiday. I redirected the Marshall bozos to a different address, but they have to realize that something is wrong and eventually call your SEC handler. I do not wish to kill them all. No profit in it. Now, stand still, please.”

Loona felt the harness drop on her shoulders. The Witch tightened it severely around Loona’s waist, and she winced. A strep from the waist ran in between her legs and up to the back, and the Witch tightened it with a jerk. It hurt, and Loona was cold. The Witch pushed Loona on the floor, onto something rubbery, forced and fastened Loona’s left arm up along her spine. She did the same to Loona’s right arm, then adjusted the harness, forcing Loona’s wrists further up to behind her neck.

Her shoulders and Loona screamed in pain, both soundlessly. The Witch wrapped a strap around her body over her non-existent breasts and tightened it ruthlessly, constricting Loona’s breathing and forcing her arms more into her spine. Loona panted, even hyperventilated, with the pain of it all.

The Witch sat on Loona, folded her right leg behind, and fastened a strap attached to the waist’s leather strap. She tightened her foot with the sole on her left bun cheek, then did the same to the other foot. Loona felt some straps still loose and dreaded what else the Witch would do. After all the indignations of the past months, Loona was not really surprised that it was not over. She had hoped for a quick death, though.

The Witch sat on the bed and spoke, “We have a long ride ahead of us, Ms. Hartman, so you need something to keep you occupied. Brace yourself as I adjust your arms a little further from your spine and attach your hands to the hood. This will keep your head back nicely and straighten your neck for breathing. Here we go.” Loona could not scream, could not do anything other than weep in utter frustration, pain, and humiliation.

The Witch continued to explain, “I'll fold you in half, into a small bundle, and pack you into a comfortable snug thick rubber bag. Have you ever been a package before? You see, it is fun.” She stood, turned Loona over on her back, lifted her upper body, and folded it onto her thighs. The strap between her legs rode sharply up her bum and chafed her privates. The Witch fastened straps from her chest to around her legs and tightened, pressing Loona into a package.

The Witch spoke, “Almost finished, my dear, almost there. Just focus on breathing and staying alive.” She stretched the rubber underneath Loona around her body and over her shoulders, further constricting Loona to a bundle of pain, cramping, and humiliation, and she almost passed. The rubber hood did not allow her tears to flow away, so Loona drank them.

The Witch fetched something, and when she came back, she explained, “I cannot leave the house dragging a neoprene bag with a hooded head sticking out. This is just a duffle bag that fits you nicely into a bundle. Here we go. She tipped Loona over, then back up again, onto the bag, and drew it up and over Loona’s head. Then she dragged Loona along the floor, out of the front door, along the concrete path. Loona heard a boot trunk pop open, then lifted and dumped inside onto something soft. The boot trunk closed. The car’s door opened, closed, the motor started, and the Witch drove off, by the feel, unhurriedly.

What seemed like an eternity of rolling about in the car boot with every change of speed and stop, Loona was sore, groggy, cramped, disoriented, thirsty, hungry, and a million other unpleasant things. Not able to do anything other than give-over, Loona's mind receded into a dissociative fugue state. Everything became unreal, foggy, and confused. Every so often, some part of her would cramp with a ripping, tearing, searing pain, which often sent Loona into a red haze, and she would pass out. Time had no meaning; she was all one bundle of agony and dread.

Peripherally aware that the car had stopped for a while, a sharp cramp in her shoulder had Loona screaming into her gag uselessly. She passed out again. Loona woke and felt air on the lower part of her face. She smelled eggs and bacon, but her left thigh was cramped, and this had her full attention for a while.

Loona’s attention turned to the Witch's voice, "Good morning Ms. Hartman. How was your first ordeal, constriction, and immovability? I enjoyed our trip to my cabin, thinking about the discomfort and challenges you experienced. Some did not survive this journey, so well done, Ms. Hartman."

To the sound’s dishes and cutlery, the Witch continued, "I hope you like bacon, egg, tomato, onion, on buckwheat pancakes. How do you like your Coffee? This will be your chance to ask me anything you want, but please, not the usual boring stuff, like, why me, what did I do? You have nothing to bribe me with, and aside from my job, this is the only enjoyment I have in life. Now, let us free your mouth for breakfast." The Witch unlaced the hood, removed the neoprene hood, and put her fingers on Loona’s eyes, preventing Loona from looking where she was.

The Witch warned, “If you open your eyes, I will blind you, so please, cooperate and allow us to enjoy breakfast.” With her eyelids stuck from all the tears, Loona could not open her eyelids anyway.

The Witch washed and dried her eyes, then put a patch on each, firmly pressing them down, explaining, “You will not need to see for a while, Ms. Hartman, and this is the best way to keep those lovely large brown eyes closed. You know, I was going to shoot you yesterday before the final court day, but your eyes convinced me not to shoot.”

The Witch removed her hand and washed Mouse face and head, continuing, “Just freshening you up, then I will prepare you for breakfast.” Finished, Mouse felt a fresh rubbery smelling hood drawn over her head under her chin, which left her gagged mouth free. Then the Witch drew over another hood and laced it tightly, advising, “Almost there. Double holds better, don’t you think?”

The Witch removed Loona’s mouth insert, carefully dropping it into a sink, by the sound of it. Loona's jaws exploded in agony, and Loona screamed. It was too much, and she passed out…

"Ahh, I see you are with us again. Your mouth is empty, but I have used a dental spreader to open your rather small mouth to feed you. We will fix that over time. I prefer wide generous mouths in my play partners. Relax your jaws a bit more, and I will open your mouth a bit more.” Mouse felt jaw muscles stretched to the limit with each ratcheting, then tendons ripped, and Mouse’s face and her face exploded in horrible pain. All that came out of her was a dry rasping sound that may have been a ghost howling.

Still dealing with the pain, with Loona’s face tipped up still fastened to the hand behind her back, still in the tight bundle with her thighs pressed to her chest, felt a mouth over hers, and the Witch regurgitated food into her mouth like a mother feeding its chick. All she could do is swallow and listen while the Witch spoke, "See how I take care of you? I will first feed you, and then when you are fed and satisfied, I will feed myself.” The Witch ate, swallowed, then regurgitated over and over again until Loona could swallow no more. The Witch cleaned her wide-open Mouth and continued to eat.

Abruptly, the Witch spoke, " Coffee?" Before Loona could make a sound, the Witch drank then regurgitated the coffee into Loona's mouth. Twice more before the Witch spoke, “Alright, my dear, it is bedtime for us both. You can stay here and relax. Here is your sleep hood.”

Loona felt a conical rubbery tasting thing stuffing her mouth, then another hood drawn over. She panicked when she could not breathe, but the Witch adjusted the fit, and she had air. All was quiet, except for the pounding of her heart and the blood rushing sounds in her ears. Then she could not breathe, and Loona passed out…


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