Lost and Found

By Yashi


I watched the storm roll in over the hills from my office.  Suddenly a figure, hurrying across the parking lot, caught my eye.  It was Brian; the windows on his new pickup must be down I thought.  Suddenly there was a flash and the crack of thunder; the flash and sound rolled across the parking lot together.  I knew the strike was close, very close.  I looked for Brian; he was lying in a heap just in front of his truck.  I stared a few seconds before reaching for the phone.  I didn’t have time to dial the numbers before I heard the alert tones sounding on Judy’s scanner in the next office.

Judy was not only my secretary, but also the Chief and a paramedic on the local volunteer ambulance service.  I had no doubt that she had seen the same thing I’d seen, but was quicker then I.

Within minutes, the shop had emptied and despite the pouring rain, we were standing around watching as Judy checked him out.  She looked up and shook her head.  Another flash and the crack of thunder drove us back inside while Judy and a few of her crew quickly covered the body and then retreated inside the ambulance.  Bobby our one and only local cop showed up and called the undertaker and the state.  The state would send someone down to insure there hadn’t been and foul play—yeah right.

Without anything to do while we waited Judy and Bobby came into my office.  Judy had Brian’s keys.

“I don’t know if you remember,” Judy began, “when old Dan died of the heart attack Brian asked you if you would go see his wife if anything happened to him.”

“Vaguely I do.  But isn’t that your job Bob?”

“Yeah, well I got to stay here until the medical referee shows up.  You know how this town is, she’ll know before I can get up there if you don’t go see her.”

“Ok, I don’t like this, but I don’t see any other way.”  I grabbed the keys and my jacket and headed out.  The sun was just coming out again.

Dan had been one of my first employees.  He had learned his trade in the Navy and had worked as a machinist in a shipyard for ten years before deciding to come home.  I remember clearly when he died of a heart attack Brian had made some comment about if he ever went he wanted me to tell his wife.  His wife, Rusty—I had no clue what her given name was, was a tallish leggy blonde.  I had met her twice, once at our Christmas party and again at a 4th of July cookout, we put on for the ambulance, police, and fire departments.  About the only image of her I could think of, as I drove over to their house, was her playing volleyball barefoot in cut offs with her hair in a braid down her back.

Their house was in an odd settlement—odd in the sense the lots were large and the houses were all set at the back of the lot.  The story goes that the development was built in the 1960’s and people felt it was ecological to site the house near the back of the lots.  To tell the truth I never understood it.  Anyway, I had looked at a house near by with my ex-wife so I had a good idea where to go.  I loved my rambling old Victorian near the center of town, but my ex wanted to move into a ranch so we went and looked.

I pulled in the long driveway.  The house was set up on a low hill so that it blended into the hillside.  I couldn’t see behind the house, but considering the way the land dropped it appeared the cellar was a walk out.  I nodded my head in agreement that sighting the house toward the back of the lot did offer a certain advantage.

I banged on the front door pushed the doorbell, but I didn’t get an answer.  Finally, I pulled out my cell phone and called my office.

“Valley Machine.”

“Judy, she isn’t home or she won’t come to the door.  Do you have a phone number?”

“Hold on Ted and let me look.”  I listened to classical music for a few seconds.  “I do, but it’s a cell phone number and I think it is history, just like its owner.”  Judy’s “ambulance humor” sometimes came through.  Somehow, I got the impression she didn’t like him.

“Thanks, I guess I’ll go in and see if she is ok.  By the way please change the music tape on the phone system.”

“Will do Boss.”  I detected a smile in her voice—she liked 60’s Rock ‘n Roll.

I looked through the ring of keys Judy had given me.  One looked like a door key, but it wasn’t the front door.  The second one worked.  As I stepped through the door, I yelled Rusty’s name a few times, but didn’t get an answer.  I began to wonder if she worked or something, but Brian and never mentioned that—of course I couldn’t say I knew him that well.  Still the many times we had talked about work and different things I’m sure he would have mentioned it.  Out of curiosity, I began to wander around the house.  I was struck by how cold the house was.  The first room on my right was a large living room that ran the complete width of the house.  I dumfound to find this large room—maybe 20 by 30 feet contained just four things: a modern style reclining chair, an end table beside it with a lamp, a very small section of carpet beside the chair and a large wide screen TV.  The room echoed as walked towards the rear of the house.  A picture window looked out over the large back yard.

I went through a doorway and found my self in the kitchen.  It looked fairly normal, but when I opened the refrigerator it was nearly empty.  There were a few dirty dishes on the counter.  Leaving the kitchen, I found the stairs and went up.  One bedroom looked lived in, but the other two were empty.  Shaking my head, I returned to the first floor.  I quick peek at the room on the other side of the hall from the living room and found a sparsely furnished dinning room.

Giving up I headed back to work.  I called Bob and told him that she wasn’t home and I would try again sometime the next day.  He thanked me and said he would talk to his wife.  She knew Rusty a little; they had taken aerobics classes together.

The next morning I had barely rolled out of bed when the phone rang.


“Hi Ted, I hope I didn’t get you out of bed.”

“No, I was getting up anyway.”

“Ahhh, I talked to Ann and she says that Rusty doesn’t work and she drives, but doesn’t have a car.  So she must be at the house.”

“You’re kidding.  I checked the whole house except the basement.  I know if she was there she would have heard me and said something.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you except she should have been there.”

“Ok, I’ll get dressed and run over there.  If I still don’t find her I’ll call you and you can make it a police matter.”

“Sounds good to me; do you want me to go over?”

“No, I said I’d do it.”

“Ok, keep me posted.”


I called the office and left a message for Judy.  This time I rang the bell and only waited a few seconds before I unlocked the door.  I only glanced at the downstairs rooms before jogging up stairs.  I figured if she had been home since I’d been, there she would be in the bedroom or at least the bed would look slept in.  But no dice, the bedroom was exactly as I’d left it.  Puzzled I headed down stairs.  It took a few minutes, but I located the cellar door.  When I opened it I was surprised by how bright it was down there until I remember that it was a walk out cellar and might have windows looking out on the back yard.  I flipped on the lights anyway and headed down.  I found myself in a perfectly ordinary cellar.  The usual unused stuff on one side and a sort of family room on the other with sliding glass doors that opened out on the yard across one end.  A hot tub stood just out side the right hand door.  After a quick glance I turned to head back upstairs, suddenly I realized that something was wrong.  Standing at the foot of the stairs, I looked around trying to figure out what had caught my attention.  Then it dawned on me that the cellar was smaller then the house footprint.  I was sure that the cellar should be larger.  I began to wander around.  In the middle of the wall behind the stairs, I found a door.  It was flush with the wall and didn’t have a door pull of any sort.  A simple key hole was the only indication of the door.

After some experimenting with the Brian’s keys, I found one that fit.  I turned and pulled, the door swung open without a sound.  I found myself in a long narrow room.  To my left was some odd looking furniture.  To my right, near the glass sliders, was a cage.

To my astonishment, there was a nude woman in the cage.  She was facing the doors and couldn’t see me until I walked around in front of her.  Her eyes, wide in amazement and perhaps fear watched me.  I squatted down in front of her.

“You ok Rusty?”  I realized as soon as I spoke that it was highly doubtful if she could make a sound.  Some sort of gag—I’d assumed that was what it was, filled her mouth.  Her cheeks were puffed out and there was a black tube hanging from it.  It was bolted to the front of the cage and a strap went around her head where it was secured with a small pad lock.  Rusty was, I guess the best way to describe it, on her hands and knees.  But she couldn’t touch the floor with either her hands or her knees.  Two pipes passed through the cage supporting her upper body—one above her breasts and one below.  Two clamps, secured to each pipe, circled her hanging breasts.  Another pipe went across her back just below her shoulders and her wrists were locked to this pipe with leather cuffs so that they were pulled up between her shoulder blades.  Her elbows pointed towards the sides of the cage, were locked in cuffs just above her elbows that pulled her arms toward the sides of the cage.

A pipe covered in rubber insulation supported her hips so that her knees were several inches off the floor of the cage.  A chain ran across her back, locked to eyes welded to the pipe, it prevented her from moving from side to side.  Under the cage, a puddle of urine stained the floor.  Unable to help herself she had pissed on the floor.  Her legs had been folded up so her ankles could be secured to the pipe so her heels were against her butt.  Like her elbows, her knees were pulled out and locked to the sides of the cage.  A dildo had been pushed inside her ass and bolted to the back of the cage.  About the only parts of her body she could move were her toes, her fingers and her eyes.

I wasn’t even sure how to free her.  The first problem was the lock on the cage.  I sat in front of the cage where she could see me and studied the lock.  Suddenly it dawned on me that the key might be on the ring.  I had been so entranced with her plight I had forgotten about the keys.  Sure enough after several tries, I found the right one.  I quickly unlocked the door and realized that until I removed the gag I couldn’t open it, nor could I reach inside to unlock the lock.  The bars of the cage consisted of quarter inch round stock welded in a pattern of one inch squares.  I realized that I had to unbolt the gag from the cage first.  A survey of the room revealed a small toolbox with a few wrenches.  Finding the right one I unbolted the end of the gag and opened the door while I supported her head.  Next to the toolbox I had found a black bulb like the ones I had seen on blood pressure cuffs.  It screwed into the tube hanging from her mouth and with a whoosh, the gag deflated.  Gently I lowered her head and unlocked the gag.  With some effort I was able to work it out her mouth.  Strained from the gag she was unable to close her mouth, it hung open and saliva ran down her chin onto the floor.

At first I wasn’t sure how to release the rest of her body.  I couldn’t reach her hands or the rest of her body.  The bars were to close together and she was really packed into the cage.  I began to examine the cage and found two hidden latches under two support plates in the upper corners at the front.  After a little experimentation, I discovered how they worked and opened them.  With the catches open I was able to fold the whole top of the cage back.  For the first time I noticed how dirty her bare feet were.  Then it struck me that she was dirty.  I’m sure it wasn’t from being in the cage.  It seemed clear that she had not been able to shower in a long time.  I freed her wrists, but she didn’t try to move them at first, instead she let them rest in the small of her back.  The bar across her back came next.  With my help Rusty was able to straighten up enough so I could remove the clamps and bars from her breasts.  At last I was able to free her legs and the bar under her waist.  Together we got her out of the cage.

I left her on her side as I went next door to check out the hot tub.  I flipped back the top and found it was hot and ready for use.  Picking Rusty up, I carried her to the tub and laid her on the deck next to it.  I didn’t dare just dumping in the tub—she was so stiff that she couldn’t support herself so I stripped, picked her up and stepped into the tub.  I lower her into the water making sure she didn’t fall over.

Slowly she uncurled herself and began to relax in the water.

“Water, please.” She whispered.

“Can you sit up by yourself?”

“Yeah.”  She moved around a bit.

Satisfied she would be ok for a few minutes I climbed out of the tub and went into the family room.  In one corner was a wet bar and a small refrigerator.  Opening the door I found several bottles of water.  As I stepped back into the tub I removed the top of the plastic bottle and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”  She took a small sip.

We sat in silence for a long time.  My thoughts wandered between the beautiful, nude woman beside me, Brian, the view beyond the yard, and the cage.  To say I was confused would be an understatement.  I found myself drawn to her and while I had never found bondage a turn on, I just plain never paid much attention to the idea, I was fascinated that this woman could endure at least 24 hours in the thing—probably closer to 36.

“Where is Brian?”  Rusty broke the silence.

I turned to her and took her hand.  This was going to be one of the hardest thing I had ever done.

I just couldn’t think of any other way to tell her, or to soften the blow.  “He’s dead.”

“How?”  She whisper, tears cascading down her cheeks.

“He was walking across the parking lot as it started to rain and was struck by lightning.”

“Holy shit!”  She shook her head, her face a study in emotions.

“I’m sorry; there was nothing anybody could do.”

Rusty leaned back in the tub and sighed.  “He was a bastard and I hated him.”  She waved in the general direction of the house.  “I came here looking for a job and he blackmailed me into staying.  He had something on my folks and if I didn’t do exactly what he told me would destroy them.  So I went along.  Once in a while, like the picnic where I met you, he would let me go out in public.  The rest of the time I was here in some form of bondage.”  She splashed the water gently; “it’s been at least three months since I’ve had a real bath.  When he though I was dirty, he stake me out in the back yard during a rain storm.  You know he hung me all night by the ankles with my hands cuffed behind my back and my head in a bucket for talking to you.” She stared out over the yard for a minute.  “It wasn’t too bad, until he started filling the bucket with water.”

“You know what is so sick about this?”  She asked.  Rusty paused for a minute; her eyes searched my face for understanding.  I didn’t have any to give her.  Her experience was beyond anything I knew.  “After about the first month I liked it.”  Tears formed in her eyes—she whisper; “I like it.”  Louder she said; “I can’t give it up.”  She sat there studying my face.

Not knowing what to do or say I reached for her and she began to cry
After few minutes of holding each other she looked up at me.

“Please stay the weekend—at least.  I need you.”

I nodded yes.