Chapter 3

What kind of event would happen in the evening, with alcohol on offer (preferably free), and the option of embarassing Daddy to enliven the fun?

A company event, that’s what, but one where family were normally absent. It would need to take place at someone’s residence, so it would be a private affair. My next brainwave: the Chairman of the Board’s 50th birthday celebration? That would do it. The Chairman doesn’t need to know about it anyway, as he would not be involved with what in real life would be a secret party.

Now why would the girls be invited? Eye candy? Additional hostesses? Family extras? Yes, that rang my bell somewhere. It could be an all-male business party, with wives allocated a room by themselves for their own fun. Daddy would have declined to appear as he was a widower, but it would be suggested his eldest daughter could fill in? Then he would insist that all three had to be there, or his name would be mud with them all. That would appeal to the girls.

Right. The outline was settled; now the details had to be worked out.

A simple shopping trip enabled me to obtain the three folding plastic garden chairs, and they went into my car. I would take them to the building and stash them in the elevator ready for use. On the same visit, I would deliver groceries and drinks to fill the fridge, freezer and kitchen cupboards to stock the apartment from the start of the venture. That would mean me switching on the electricity and leaving the special circuit on for the freezer and fridge. No lights would be left on, leaving that for when we arrived.

The procedure for the kidnap was fairly simple, provided it was believable.

Daddy would come home the day before, explain what had been worked out earlier in the day to persuade him to attend, and reveal that they were coming with him tomorrow evening. It was essential for his position that they appear and do him proud, he would tell them.

Any party plans of their own would have to be cancelled, but they would not be able to say what they were doing instead, as the ‘birthday reception’ was being kept totally secret.

That left me with arranging the rental of the minibus, and getting the knockout drugs on time. The postal service came through, surprisingly, so I had that ready for use. I found a rental firm that could provide a good quality minibus for the event. It had to look expensive to fit the story line. It would be delivered to the company yard, and the C.O.O. would drive it home on the day.

The girls would be dressed in their travel clothes, a bag packed for each party outfit (they would be told they were arriving early so they could change into their party gear). In advance of leaving home, Daddy would provide them with a small celebratory drink to settle them down, and that would be laced with the chloral hydrate. My research had said that it took less than half an hour to take effect, and the trip was longer than that, so they would fall asleep in the minibus.

I would be ready at the door to open it and carry out the first plastic chair. My boss would drive the vehicle up on to the sidewalk to have the minibus doors near the building door, partially hiding what was going on, should anyone see us.

Surprisingly, the whole process went off without a hitch. With planned timing, I was standing by the door waiting for them. The only light came from the elevator at the back of the vestibule, but in a dark night this was enough light for us to see what we were doing.

One after another, the girls were carried into the vestibule, and once we had brought in the travel bags, Emerson moved the minibus onto the street and parked it a hundred yards away. When he returned, we carried each chair and its occupant into the elevator, added the bags, then up to the apartment, where we worked in reverse into the apartment lobby.

From there, each girl was carried to a bedroom and laid on the bed to sleep on her side. The travel bags remained with me and I opened them to find their party handbags and remove any phones, pills, and so on. The phones could be opened and the innards trashed to prevent any location signal, if that was a worry. What was left would go downstairs to the trash cans; the same with any pills found. I stashed the travel bags in a cupboard in ‘my’ bedroom, locking it with a key that I hid under one corner of the carpet. The folding chairs I left in the elevator.

Their Daddy told me that he decided he would take all their handbags back with him and find a hiding place at home. Any phone inside could ring to its heart’s content without response, and a location at home would never raise any queries. As they were officially out of the country, these local phones could have simply been left behind. I liked his stratagem.

After Mr Emerson was gone and the front door locked by me, I locked the apartment exit door and placed the key under the vestibule carpet. I was now locked in with my subjects, and they needed to be prepared for what lay ahead.

I entered each bedroom in turn and stripped naked the unconscious woman. I didn’t make any attempot to fondle or otherwise touch the woman. Her clothing and shoes were taken and deposited in a pile beside the exit door. Once I had the three piles, I unlocked the door again, transferred the piles into the elevator, stepped back into the apartment and relocked the door. The key went back to the same spot.

Next, I went to my personal bedroom and stripped myself down to my boxers, and placed my clothing in the cupboards and drawers. I suppose I could have left myself entirely naked, but there was a psychological benefit in me having an item of clothing where they had none. If I got a boner at any time with these naked women, it didn’t matter whether I had on boxers or not; it would still be evident.

My conscience insisted I go and check that the women were breathing normally, so I visited each of them and checked that they were still on their sides and breathing was audibly present. Lying on your back could be dangerous if you had no control, though I thought that this drug was more of a soporific, keeping them asleep more than anything else.

I went back to my bedroom and visited the loo before setting an alarm in my phone for eight a.m.

I slept well in the soft bed, and the alarm roused me from an erotic dream. I had to think for a moment about where I was, then was happy. When the girls woke, they would not be happy; that I was sure of.

The ambient temperature was fine, so I was comfortable with just my boxers. First duty: check the ladies again. That was a pleasant duty. They looked relaxed on their beds. Sharlene had grabbed the top sheet in her sleep and pulled it round her, but the other two simply lay in their full glory. They were all still sound asleep.

I retired to the kitchen and set about making some breakfast for myself. Normally in my bachelor pad this would be something quick, like cereals, but with no rush today – or any day, come to think of it – I decided on fried bacon and eggs, and a couple of potato waffles. My check of the cupboards confirmed I had included brown sauce as well as tomato sauce, and a couple of chutneys. I saw no point in providing a wider range than that. Simply observing what the females used on their food and how much, would give an indication of their eating standards. Good manners included careful eating abilities such as would not go amiss in social company. The lack of a mother may have led to a degredation of their social mores.

Once I had consumed my hearty breakfast, I cleared my crockery and cutlery into the dishwasher, then laid the table for breakfast for the three guests. I was careful to lay a tablecloth first, to set a pattern to be followed in future by the girls.

I took my coffee through to the lounge to watch the news. There was nothing mentioned of any relevance to me or the girls or the company: the world was rolling along in its usual stupid way, with daft politicians talking rubbish, and men of money talking power. Situation normal.

Another examination of the bedrooms revealed the first signs of waking up beginning to show. I guessed at another ten or twenty minutes before full consciousness resumed. Expect some screaming, I told myself.

I returned to the lounge and relaxed with some inane breakfast show featuring talking heads from sport and entertainment. It was evident how low their expectations were of their viewers, in that you almost never saw a scientist or academic on the breakfast show couch.

When the first squeal came to my attention, I tried to guess which one was the squealer. I guessed wrong. It was the eldest, Sharlene, and she stood in the corridor, well-wrapped in the bedsheet, staring around wildly.

She called, “Daddy! Where are we?”

I sauntered through the lounge door into her line of sight, and remarked, “Good morning, Sharlene. How are you feeling, this happy morn?”

“What? Who are you and why ... I recognise you! You are that Jimmy person.”

“Well done! Did you recognise me by my face, or hair, or dick?”

Her eyes shot to my boxers and a sudden realisation that I was wearing only boxer shorts. That stimulated another realisation and she gasped out, “Where are my clothes?”

“Where are my clothes, SIR!” I insisted.

“Bloody hell, why should I call you sir?”

“Because this is my Detox clinic, and you are going to learn to behave in an improved fashion.”

I planned to feed them information in small doses for easier comprehension. This snippet got her thinking.

“Where are my clothes, sir?” she amended.

“Packed away for the duration, my dear. You have to earn clothing, as part of the program.”

“What? You expect me to walk around naked all the time? Even outside?”

“There is no ‘outside’, Sharlene. You remain here until you change your ways.”

“I want my Daddy! He will hear of this and rescue me.”

“How? You don’t have a phone.”

“But I brought one with me!”

“Now with your clothes.”

“Oh. Then...” he voice tailed away to nothing, then, “You kidnapped me!”

“Kidnapped? NO. You are in my Detox rehabilitation program, but officially; I repeat, officially, as far as the world is concerned, you have been whisked off to an exclusive finishing school in Europe that values its privacy.”

“My sisters will complain about such a story, and force Daddy to do something about it.”

As she spoke, there was a scream from one of the bedrooms.

“Eh? That sounds like Cherry.”

“I couldn’t tell. I haven’t heard either one scream before.” I informed her.

“You mean, they are here as well?”

“Got it in one. Do you want some breakfast, or going to shower first?”

She looked at the sheet wrapped round her, and complained, “You expect me to wear this sheet all the time?”

I put on my ‘offended’ face.

“Certainly not! What do you think I am? A couturier? No, I expect you to walk around naked all the time.”

“In front of you?”

I sighed.

“Sharlene, how many men have seen you naked? The stories say quite a few. How is one more going to make a difference?”

“Who told you that?”

“It appears to be common knowledge that you are free with your favours. That is not a sign of maturity, Sharlene.”

“But walking around naked in front of you is?”

“Different question; different answers. Walking around nude on a topless beach is not the same as fucking around with random males. This is like the beach: in a few hours you will not notice you are nude, unless you are doing the cooking in the kitchen. You will want to use the apron. You will notice I said THE apron. There are three of you, so wearing an apron all the time will only help one of you and offend the others.”

“You think you are clever, don’t you?”

“Sharlene, you have it in reverse. I am the one who has not been behaving stupidly; that is all.”

“Sharlene! There you are! Where are we, sis?”

It was Cherry, stepping out nude. Then she spotted me, and her hands swept over her lady parts.

Sharlene told her, “This man seems to have kidnapped us, and has stolen our clothes, Cherry. He expects us to be naked all the time.”

“What do you mean, ‘all the time’?”

I interposed, “The rule here is, no clothes until deserved, that is all, Cherry. I have already seen you naked, so hiding youself does not achieve much, my dear girl.”

“You have? When?”

“Who do you think removed all your clothes, Cherry? The clothes fairy?”

Her face flamed with embarrassment as the facts sneaked into her brain, but she kept her arms and hand covering her breasts and pussy. Sharlene also blushed as she took in the same facts. I looked at her as she turned to me.

“Yes, Sharlene, you have nothing I haven’t seen, so your wrap is merely an affectation.”

“Damn you, Jimmy! You think you know it all.”

“No, Sharlene. I have not known any of you three, not even in the biblical sense. Tales have been told, but you are free to let me know the full facts of your life, at any time. We will be here for a while.

Cherry looked around. “Charlie? Where is she?”

“Probably not awake yet. The chemical varies in its effects according to the body. How did you imagine you stayed sleeping for so long?”

“What room is she in? I must check on her.”

“Come along and I’ll show you. You can change the labels on your door to say your name later.”

Cherry followed me as I walked to the bedroom where Charlotte was.

“Here you are. Go and check on her.”

I stepped to one side, so she had to pass me. That made it difficult to maintain her previous pose, and exposed her backside to me. Once through, she dropped her arms to approach Charlotte. She shook the girl’s shoulder, getting only a mumbled objection to being woken.

“Charlie? Wake up, girl. We have been kidnapped.”

This caused Charlie to open her eyes in shock, and stare at Cherry.

“What did you say?”

“We have been kidnapped, it seems. We are in an apartment with the kidnapper.”

“Eh? Kidnapped? Who by?”

“The Jimmy fellow that Daddy introduced us to about a week ago.”

“The cute guy? I quite liked him.” She became aware that she was unclothed. “Hey! What happened to my clothes? Did you put me to bed, Cherry?”

“No. He did. Jimmy. He stripped us and laid us on our beds here.”

“Kinky!” Charlie replied. “Does he intend to have his way with me? I don’t feel I have been ravished yet.”

“Don’t be so brazen, girl. He is our kidnapper, so he is a criminal.”