Mary. Even her name was homely, maybe just a little bit boring. Virgin Mary, she’d been at school. Mary, Mary, Quite contrary; at home. It used to piss her off; but she never showed it. She was one of life’s nice people. The ones who don’t show off, or scream; but the ones who actually do help old people across the road or do old Mrs Wiggins’ garden next door. She married Kevin partly because she was flattered he liked her. She knew that wasn’t the basis for love; well, not a good basis, anyway. They got on well enough. She was good looking. Five foot ten, 140 lbs (same weight at 18, 25, and now 35; not many women could say that), if not the lightest woman around, she wasn’t fat and she had nice curves that got noticed in the street or in the swimming pool with their daughter and son. Imagine? She would say, imagine being hit by some guy five or ten years younger, and me with two kids too. She ‘did’ sex, willingly, whenever Kevin wanted. She didn’t do ‘weird’ sex. She had told him no, no, no, to anal. Kevin had whined like a schoolboy that all his friends did it. “Not with me they don’t” she had replied, and they’d both dissolved into laughter at the very thought, and done it ‘normal’ instead. It never came up again. But Kevin started to lose interest. At least she thought that at first. Then she noticed the look the secretary at his work gave him one time when she had to pick him up from work (his Ford Ranger being in the garage for servicing). She knew straight away. She was clever that way. She could tell it was the look of an occasional lover; she guessed he wasn’t a one mistress kind of man. Not serially, more in parallel. That night she had lain awake and cried softly. She had never refused him anything (except anal), she’d even sucked him off! He hadn’t once asked if she’d come. He was sexually selfish, like so many men, she’d discovered from listening to other women friends. She didn’t tell anybody anything. She had the reputation of being ‘a good listener’ - someone women could tell all too and get it off their chest; but, just like the bastard husband/lover who never made them climax in sex, they never reciprocated and asked her. Which was just as well, because by now the torrent of sadness behind that smiling face would have drowned them.
So, that’s Mary. Two lovely children, seven and five, golden, curly haired moppets who adored their parents; they would grow up all too soon to be sulky teenagers, of course. Kevin didn’t see the time when he was a God passing. He lived in the moment, not in the future. Mary knew more, and did lots with her children whilst they wanted her. She would do the normal things: nursery, then school, swim classes (where she got admiring looks from the few men taking their children to the class. Most of the women in the pool had arses that caused a tidal wave when they jumped up and down) and the rest. But she took them camping on her own in the summer – it was only to the local camp ground, but they camped in a tent and lay with the door open looking at the stars and making up stories; she took them to the library sessions where someone read a story to the kids. Most of the children were from poorer homes where there weren’t many books. Her two got to meet black kids with poor clothes when they were all young enough to think nothing of it; and got to meet Lui Chin, a five year old who could play the violin like a professional; and little, dirty, smelly, white, Kevin (‘like Daddy!’ said Marcus; only not so much... ) whose mother forgot to collect him when she was high. Mary had let her children play with Kevin until seven when the library staff finally got hold of his mother to come and collect him. Mrs Kimble was grateful for having Marcus and Lavinia there to play with Kevin, and impressed that Mary looked past the dirt and smell and saw a child in need of help.
Church would say she was ‘one of God’s saints’, work would say she was ‘a hard worker’, friends would say she was ‘a good sort’.
She signed up for Pilates evening class. Church had suggested that Yoga was maybe too allied to a foreign and non-Christian philosophy to be entirely respectable. But Pilates was alright. Wednesday was Kevin’s Bowling Night; so they got Kelly to come over and baby-sit. Kelly Albright was sixteen and pretty in that slim, ‘All-American’, pushup-bra, no-hips, long blonde way. Mary worked with Mandy Albright at the LooseChange Cafe (a non-profit cafe, of course; half the employees were ex-cons – mostly drugs – edging back into society); Mandy had suggested Kelly; Kelly was pretty AND sensible. She lived twenty miles away, but Mandy was a friend and knowing someone you can trust was a useful thing in a babysitter.
Before she married, Mary had gone sailing with her Dad. They had lived on the coast and would sometimes sail on an evening. Once, when she was ten, they had sailed to an island in their dinghy and spent the night. On a school night! What other daughter had spent a night on an island between one school day and another? It was memories like that that had made Mary determined to give her children memories too. Kevin’s job took them to the Mid-West. He didn’t do sailing. She gave up all but the memories. All but the memories and the knots. When they went on holiday, it was Mary who tied stuff down on the roof rack, or (when Kevin got his pride and joy – a pickup) in the back. Her knots were clever, neat, and right for every occasion. At the school fete one year, when the wind got up, she surprised all the men by going home, getting loads of rope (one thing she had a penchant for buying; Kevin joked with their friends that they had a rope emporium in the garage) and then telling them all what to do to tie down the bouncy castle, the coconut shy fencing, the tea tent etcetera. She was, for once in her life, the right person with the right skills in the right place.
She was probably the only person in the whole of Iowa who knew the difference between a bowline and an Italian bowline (and the only person who would care as well).
She looked forward to Wednesdays. She loved the exhileration of the exercise. The class was part class and part social group really, but Mary loved the class more. She liked the coffee and biscuit – others had a cake, she never did. But she loved pushing herself. She even took to running twice a week; and it was running with her, not some slow, chatty jog with a middle-class mum with too much time on her hand. Mary ran to work! Five miles with a backpack (towel, change of clothes). No wonder she didn’t have the Hippo-Bum, as her father had unkindly (but amusingly) called it, the last time he had managed to visit before the cancer took hold.
That Wednesday, the hall was in darkness. She was early, but not that early. A small notice was on the door: ‘Pilates cancelled due to instructor ill’. Sandrine had pulled her back gardening, which was ironic since Pilates was meant to mitigate against such things; but life is like that. She would be sleeping on the floor for a few days. Other women turned up, read the notice and mouthed off ‘she could have phoned; this is too bad!’ or similar. Mary assumed there was a reason they hadn’t been rung. She got back into her VW and thought, yet again, how she ought to get the emissions checked since they had been cheating; she had bought VW partly to mitigate against her husband’s gas-guzzling atmosphere destroyer. She drove home and was surprised to see her husband’s truck in the drive. Had his bowling been cancelled? How could that be unless ABC Bowling had burnt down or something? She went to the door, but something made her look through the gap in the curtains. Was it because she had told him so often that it looked awful to leave that gap, and he didn’t give a fuck to listen to her? She looked through and froze; watched again, and quietly walked away towards her car. Then she stopped.
A neighbour would have thought she had lost it. But, of course, in a neighbourhood like this, everybody was indoors watching TV with curtains closed keeping themselves to themselves. She partially retraced her steps, but diverged to the garage, selected some ropes and returned.
What she had seen through the gap was a sixteen year old girl on her back, with no skirt or panties. And a naked thirty seven year old husband on top thrusting into her. The girl might or might not have been willing, she wasn’t sure yet. She told herself that if she was unwilling then she had a duty to do something to stop it. A deeper part of her brain told her that she already knew the girl was willing, for whatever reason, to be ridden by this old git (as Kelly would have thought of Kevin).
Mary went round the back, quietly opened the back door and entered. This way Kevin would be facing away from her. But when she got in, they had moved to the sofa. Kelly was kneeling on the sofa, lengthways; her bottom high in the air, still being pummelled by Kevin’s thrusting. He was making low noises that showed he, at least, was enjoying it. Kelly had her eyes shut, but occasionally she was say “Ooo, yeah” or similar. She was obviously not enjoying it (so why do it?) but was willing at least (told you so, said Mary’s brain).
She could have screamed the place down, woken the kids, caused a family trauma and left Kevin. What she did was tie a Handcuff Knot and slip it over her husband’s extended ankles. She banked on him being so intent on fucking this sixteen year old girl that he wouldn’t notice; she was right. The free ends, she took to across the room and looped tied to the outer door handle of the kitchen door. When the door was shut, the rope would be pulled and the handcuffs tightened.
Then she crept round behind the sofa to where his hands were at the opposite end, holding the arm for more purchase to ram into, what she imagined, was a sore and non-enjoying tight little cunt. She was deliberately using words in her head that she would not normally use. She never, ever, ever, thought ‘cunt’; but now the word gave her freedom to disembody that body from the girl she knew as Kelly. This girl was some fucking slut-bitch that deserved much of what was coming to her.
She made up another Handcuff Knot. She’d have to be quick when she moved. His hands extended for a second beyond the arm. She took a deep breath and acted. The loops were in place and the rope pulled tight and tied with a Vibration Proof Hitch to the locked doors of their old oak Welsh Dresser; then she flew across the room and slammed the kitchen door shut. Hubby was held by his arms and legs, outstretched. He looked up and started a “WHAT THE FUCK!”
“Shush! You want to wake the children?” He looked at her, realisation dawning. Then he started to silently struggle. It wouldn’t take too long to escape she knew that.
Kelly had opened her eyes, and was thinking of escape; but a pre-prepared Hangman’s Knot had slipped quickly over her head and pulled tight. Perhaps too tight? Mary didn’t actually want to kill anybody. Actually, her brain said, part of you does. You’d love to leave a trail of blood and destruction, mangled body parts strewn around. But she was still civilised, she wouldn’t do that. The noose distracted Kelly, and a simple Round Turn and Two Half Hitches trussed up her legs, then another on her ankles. Again, easy to undo, but it bought her time. Kelly’s arms flayed around to both escape from the weight of Kevin on her back and to stop her arms being pinioned. Mary (fit from Pilates) pulled her out, grabbed one hand and slipped a simple Clove Hitch over it, pulled and tied it to the same Welsh Dresser. “You two pull that over and I call the police!” was Mary’s calm comment. It was her calmness that was unsettling. Then she finally grabbed the other hand, tied a Pedigree Cow Hitch on her wrist and pulled the free end down her back, through her legs and up to the noose (which she now freed a little). There was a small red mark, hopefully it would disappear before the end. This free end was tied to the noose with a Clove Hitch finished with two Half Hitches. Kelly pulled her arm and found the rope tightly chafed her groin. She gave a little squeal and let her arm down again.
Back to Kevin, and more ropes around his elbows; “The Ossel Hitch”, she said out loud. “Is perfect for a secure knot with several turns to reduce the pressure”. He watched was she did the same to his knees. Then she released his ankles and hands. He immediately stood and starting shuffling to the door. A long rope with a Double Chinese Button Knot, which she had tied a while ago for show and left in the garage, snaked out and hit him on the back of the head, he fell, It stung like mad. She tied a simple Round Turn and Two Half Hitches to his ankles. “Silly boy” she said. Then she created a Bowline, slid the loose end through the loop; over his ankles and pulled tight. She pulled him back to her that way. It would leave a rope burn on his legs. She was less worried about superficial damage to Kevin, but whatever happened next, she wanted Kelly to look unscathed when she left.
Suitably trussed, she left them to do five things. One, she went back to the garage and sorted some more ropes; then switched off the light and shut the garage door. Then she returned and pulled the curtains properly so they looked right (and no-one could see in). She stood on Kevin’s hand, hard, and said “Please try and draw the curtains so they overlap. I don’t know WHAT the neighbours would think”. She left them and went to check the children. Both were sleeping like angels. They really were blessed to have such good sleepers; both had slept through the night from six months. She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on to make some tea. Lastly, she rang Mandy Albright. “You two say one thing and I’ll call the police! I mean it.”
She did it so the two in the living room could hear. She nearly rang from the home phone, just in time she used her mobile. “Hello? Oh, is that Peter Albright? Oh, yes, very well, thank you. No, no problem. Well, I hope only a little one.” She explained that her meeting was running over (she’d never said it was Pilates, and, being a man, Peter Albright wouldn’t have remembered a detail like that anyway) and she wouldn’t be back until midnight. She explained that Kevin had had to go out of town; and “Yes, yes okay” she was handed to Mandy, she knew that would happen “Hi Mandy, I was just explaining...” She explained again, more detail, more pointless detail. Women have to know what colour the funeral director’s underwear is! They have to know every pointless piece of information. The two listened. Kevin wondered when this drivel would stop; Kelly wondered why her mother didn’t ask any sensible questions. “Well, I was wondering. I mean I’ll happily bring her back, but; would it be okay if Kelly stayed over? The spare bedroom is all made up. I can bring her home tomorrow or straight to school, whichever is best for Kelly. You sure? Oh thank you, thank you. Yes, I wouldn’t ask, but Kelly is SUCH a sensible girl; I know she can cope, she is a real credit to you ... and Peter of course” buttering up, and a little joke at the end. We all know the children are a credit to the mother, the father does damn all! “I’ll ring Kelly shall I? Okay.”
There were holes in the plot, she knew that. If Kevin was away, then she, Mary, would have had to wake the children to drop Kelly home. Still, seemed it wasn’t a problem. Mary rang Kelly’s mobile; left it open for ten minutes whilst she made the tea; then she waited. Yup, it rang again. Her mum was ringing to make sure Kelly was alright with this. Mandy was a good mum. “You better get this right, or the police with find a tied up naked girl on our front lawn when they arrive, understood?”
“Hi Mum. Yes, Mary just called. Well, she said I should call her Mary. Yes, it’s fine. No, I’ll go straight to school I guess. That’ll be fine. Yes, I have spare panties in my bag.” Mandy had always told her girl to make sure she had spares, ‘just in case’. “Yes, I know where the spare bedroom is. Ohhhh, Mummm. Of course I won’t look in the other rooms. Yes, I’ll ring if there are any problems. No worries. See you tomorrow” Mary took the phone away and smiled.
“Well done. Very believable”
“What are you going to do?” asked Kelly.
“Not sure yet. Are you in love with Kevin? Oh, do you take milk and sugar in you tea?”
“I, oh, neither, black please, Mrs ... Mary” It felt strange calling someone by their first name when they had tied you up half naked. “I ... in love? Oh no!”
“He pays me double.”
“That answers the next question, so this isn’t a one-off. So he pays you double and you let him hump your pretty little arse? You are worth way more than double, you stupid girl. You’re young and pretty; you should have held out for triple, at least. UHHH! You say nothing until you are spoken to; you baby-snatching paedophile.” This last to Kevin. Since Kelly was sixteen, technically it was all legal, she knew that. But the baby-sitter?! He thought no further than his dick! What happened when she decided to stop because of him? Or they were found out? Who had to sort out another baby sitter? Mary, of course! She didn’t sort out nubile young girls for her husband to fuck, she sorted responsible girls to protect her children. She kicked him.
“Shut up! You wake the children and it’ll be the last time you see them.” Which actually was quite a threat; for all his faults, he loved his children.
She held the mugs of tea up to the two captives and let them drink. What now? It was obvious really...
“Right, here is what is going to happen. You two are going to do everything I say. I have here” she held up a rope with a frayed end “a tawse. This one on the other hand,” she held another up, she had been tying it while Kelly was on the phone, “is a Cat O’Nine Tails. Each thin rope has a knot on the end, as you see. If I use that, it will take your skin off. You understand?” They both nodded. She had switched. Kevin wondered where his quiet, obedient, understanding, wife had gone. “Had this bastard asked you for anal yet? No? He would have done. Relax. I’ll not make you give that up to him. You might have to suck off, I’ll let you know”
The deal had always only been straight sex. It was true, Kevin had been thinking of trying to persuade Kelly to let him fuck her wee brown hole, but he hadn’t started yet. He hadn’t even asked her to give him a blow job; now Mary was suggesting she might.