Mwynwen - the kidnapping
By Diana the Valkyrie
Don't vorry, mein little leibling, I vill leave you an inch to piss with.  


I woke up, and saw Fluff fast asleep. Poor thing, she'd had a pretty exciting
night. Me too, come to that. I rose carefully so as not to wake her. I
attended to my first three priorities, bathroom, bathroom and shower. Then I
felt the familiar pain in my belly that told me it needed re-filling. That
zoom up to angels 42 had been amazing, but by golly all that potential energy
has to come from somewhere. And the view from up there! I hadn't realised how
great it was, and I wanted more. But not under my own steam, I'd find a way up
that didn't involve me having to find the energy myself. Maybe a thermal
somewhere? Plus it was really cold up there, I'll need a lot more than a lycra
flight-suit. But if I wasn't moving fast, drag wouldn't be a problem. But then
I thought, oxygen, I'll need that too, I could barely breathe up there, and I
certainly wouldn't be able to stay up long without it. Maybe I can use Scuba
gear? And the rubber diving suit would be pretty warm, I guess. And maybe a
couple of heavy sweaters over that.

The aroma of coffee, porridge and Marmite woke Fluff, and she joined me for
breakfast. Munch munch munch. Then we started the day. "I want my bag, I'm
sure I left it at the party when I took off." Fluff went to the phone and made
a call; I listened to half of the conversation. "Hi Sally. Yes, I'm fine. Yes,
I know it was silly of me to hold on ... yes, but I just didn't think fast
enough. Forty-two thousand feet, the Witch said. Fucking cold. No, I did *not*
wet myself; listen, did you find a bag with a blue flight suit, and some other
stuff? Oh good, where is it now? You're kidding. You didn't. Oh shit. No,
don't worry Sally, I'll handle it. Yes, see you Monday." She hung up.

"You want the good news first or the bad news?" she asked. I closed my eyes in
embarrassment, she's always playing this game. "Good news first." "Well, Sally
found it, all your stuff is safe and sound." "So what's the bad news?" "Harry
said he'd look after it for you."

I blinked. Yes, I could see the implication of that; we'd have to go visit
Harry. And Sharon. Which might not be pleasant. But Fluff didn't know what I
knew. "Not a problem, Fluff. I have to go there anyway, Harry has a bunch of
papers that's connected with the case I'm working on."

"You're on a case?" Fluff asked, eagerly. I nodded, smiling. Fluff sees
herself as Tinker to my Sexton Blake. Watson to my Holmes. Or maybe Robin,
which would make me Batman. Anyhow, she likes the idea of being sidekick to
the Camel. "This is a job for the Llama", she grinned. "Oh, come off it,
Fluff." "You don't need help?" "When did I ever? I mean, it's not like you
have any superpowers or anything." "Neither do you." "At least I can fly."
"And I can fluff, so what?" "So butt out, Fluff. Stop with the sidekick
fantasy." She put an elbow on the table, and rested her head on it.

"So you'll be visiting Harry and Sharon all by yourself, then."

Oh.

"Fluff?" "Mmm?" "Er, maybe I was speaking a bit too hastily there." "Mmm?"
"Fluff, I could do with a bit of moral support here, I don't fancy going down
there all alone." "Mmm?" "OK, OK, I'm sorry. OK?" She smiled at me. "And I can
be the Llama?" Oh god. Please no, not the Llama. It's embarrassing. How would
you feel if you had a Llama trailing around after you? "Yes, yes. OK, you can
be the Llama." Fluff's face lit up. "I'll get the costume on, we can go round
to Sharon right now!"

God knows what the cabbie thought. Me in a strapless evening dress with a cape
wrapped round me to make it somewhat less daring and more suitable for a cab
ride to Neasden. With a stonking great camel's head on it. And Fluff. Oops, I
mean, And The Llama. I really can't imagine where she got the idea that a
suitable costume for a Llama would be silk pajamas, but that's Fluff for you,
full of literary allusions. And she'd embroidered a llama head on the back,
just in case anyone didn't know the Ogden Nash poem. Well, I could talk, me
with my camel's head on my cape. The cabbie didn't say much, but I saw him
staring at my evening dress rather a lot. Or maybe it wasn't the dress he was
staring at. I smiled at him, and when we got out, I leaned over into his side
window to pay him and give him a tip. I mean, if we can't spread a little
happiness in this world, why are we here?

Fluff rang the door bell. No answer. "They're not in, Fluff. We should have
phoned first." "Don't be silly, Witch, it's Saturday morning, they're not out
of bed yet." She rang again, then she just leaned on the bell and waited." The
bell rang and rang, and eventually, the door opened. The doorway was filled by
Sharon, and when I say "filled", I mean, filled. Completely.

This was the first proper view I'd had of Sharon, not counting when she was on
top of Harry on a buffet table, pounding him into the jelly and trifle.
Immediately, I recognised the symptoms of Septadecaherbis; she must have spent
a considerable time at the convent of St Hilda. She was tall, not as tall as
me in my stupid seven inch heels, but taller than my natural six-three. I
guessed about six-six. And she was outstanding in front, too. I mean, she
stood out emphatically like a couple of torpedoes. But the main thing you
noticed about Sharon was her arms. I won't say her biceps were a yard round,
because they weren't. Nowhere near. Nothing like. Much less than that.

"Er. I've come to see Harry ..." I began. Fluff had a much more direct
approach. She pushed past me, and pretty much threw herself at Sharon. Sharon
didn't budge an inch, and those massive arms came round to crush the life out
of my friend Linda, the Llama, my best friend who I'd known since we were at
school together and who it looked like I wasn't going to know for much longer.
I tried to think what I could do; maybe if I lifted them both up, but I wasn't
actually sure that I'd be able to handle quite so much weight, so maybe I
could jump up six feet and kick her in the face? So I did.

I bet Batman doesn't have this problem. Jumping up six feet was easy, of
course, but as I drew back my foot for the kick, my shoe fell off. These seven
inch platforms aren't exactly good for playing football. And then a very large
hand closed around my other leg, and I was left with only the option of
kicking with my bare toes, which I reckoned would hurt me a lot more that it
would hurt her. "Come on in", she said, and she dragged Fluff and me inside,
and kicked the door shut. Fluff didn't seem to be dead yet, she was trotting
alongside Sharon. "Harry, look who's here!"

An unshaven, uncombed and mostly undressed Harry appeared. "Hi, Harry" said
Fluff, crashing herself down into the most comfy-looking chair in the room. I
pulled my leg out of Sharon's grip, and came down to floor level. "Harry." I
whispered. "Oh. Min." he replied. "Hi, Min." And he gave me the kicked-dog
grin. Oh no. You don't treat me that way. I'm The Camel, and I don't take no
shit from no-one, see. I launched myself through the air at him. "You dirty
rat!" I screamed.

Instant chaos. Fluff jumped out of her chair at Sharon, to get in the way of
Sharon's lunge forward. I landed on top of Harry, and we cannoned into the
wall, then down to the floor. Meanwhile, Sharon had gone straight through
Fluff, not slowed down at all, and the two of them landed on us. The sandwich
consisted of Harry on the bottom, then me, then Fluff, and Sharon on top. "I
ain't so tough" says Harry, from the bottom, and we both started to laugh.

How could I realistically be angry with him? I'd practically thrown myself at
him (literally, just now) and he'd responded in the way that men are
programmed to respond. It was hardly his fault that he had a solid long-term
relationship with Sharon. If anyone was to blame, it was Fluff for so totally
misreading the situation. "Fluff?" said Sharon. "What?" said Fluff, rather
muffled from being squashed between Sharon and me. "Um." "Oh." "Ooo." "Ah."
"Um. Um." "Mmmm." "You OK down there Harry?" asked Sharon. "Urghh" he replied.
"Look, we're hurting Harry" she said, and stood up with Fluff in one hand and
me in the other. He did look a bit battered at that. He staggered to his feet.

"Look, Min, I'm sorry about everything, I didn't mean things to get so serious
between us, I thought it was just, well, you know? A bit of?" "Yes, Harry, I
know. No, it's OK, no harm done. I was a bit pissed off for a while, but Linda
explained it to me. But you know ..." "What?" "You're a hell of a fuck, Harry"
Harry looked suitably smug. "A good professional will always beat the pants
off an gifted amateur, Min." And I pulled my rather creased up evening dress
off. "Look. No pants." "Um. Linda?" said Sharon. "What?" "Um. Linda? Um?"
"What, now?" Sharon nodded. "What, you mean all of us?" Sharon nodded. "And
the Witch?" Sharon nodded. "You do realise, don't you, that it's only an hour
before lunchtime, and it's most unwise to engage in strenuous exercise just
before a very heavy meal?" said Fluff. "Stop procrastinating, Linda" and she
dragged Fluff into the bedroom. I didn't notice Fluff digging her heels in.
Harry took me by the hand, and we followed them. Neither of us were dragging
the other.

Sex was very different from the one-on-one that I was used to. Harry and Fluff
immediately teamed up on Sharon, leaving me wondering what I was supposed to
do. I didn't wonder for long. Choice of three - two girls, one guy. No
brainer. I got on top of Harry, and added my weight to his. Fluff was doing
something complicated with both her hands on Sharon's breasts, Harry was doing
something pretty simple between Sharon's legs, and I was pushing Harry deeper
into Sharon than he'd ever been before. After a few minutes, Harry lost
control, screamed "SHARON!" and let go a blast deep inside her. Then he went
limp. Sharon pulled him off her, rolled him to her left side and kept a
protective arm round him while Fluff fluffed and I carefully put my long
narrow hands into places they probably aren't supposed to go.

Eventually, most of us were as sated as Harry was. Fluff looked like she was
still up for more, but she's a professional fluffer, you'd expect that. I
nestled into Sharon's right side, and her arm was around me, which felt very
nice. Harry was asleep by now, and Fluff wasn't moving much either.

Then Fluff sat up, on Sharon's belly, and said "Come on, you lazybones. It's
time for lunch." She put on a dressing gown, and headed for the kitchen. Harry
stirred, I sat up, rose a couple of feet and drifted towards the same
destination. I saw Sharon chivvying Harry up as I left.

Fluff was bustling round the kitchen like she knew it well. I found my bag,
and got into some decent clothes at last. Fluff seemed to have lunch under
control; I could see a good pile of bread rolls that I felt would be useful
sustenance, so I left her to get on with it, and floated out into the living
room. Harry was sitting at the table, sorting out papers. "Hey! That's my
International Telecoms case!" He looked round at me. "Sure. You asked me to
look at it, remember." Oh yeah. "So what have you found?" "Nothing. So far.
But I've only spent a few minutes on it, Sharon kept me busy last night."

Well, that's a fat lot of good. I picked up a brightly coloured, glossy report
and started leafing through it. It was full of pictures of the International
Telecom tower, which they were obvously very proud of, and pictures of old
farts in suits, and graphs and charts that showed how fantastically well they
were doing. And at the back there was page after page of figures, with titles
like "Flow of Funds" and "Assets and Liabilities." "Rather you than me, Harry.
But if you can't find anything, then what?" "Dunno, Min."

Hmm. Thanks. Sharon spoke up. "Min, surely this is very straightforward. Find
a Big Cheese, fly him up to 3000 feet, and offer to drop him unless he tells
you where the skeletons are hidden." "I can't do that" I said, shocked. "Why
not?" "It's illegal" "So?" "I'm a police officer". I neglected to mention that
my rank is constable. "Police officers can only do legal stuff, otherwise it
can come out in court and the case collapses." "Oh. So what can you do?" So I
explained.

"What I'm planning, is to enter the International Telecom tower today, while
it's the weekend. And have a good old root around." "But surely that's
breaking and entering?" "No, because I'm not planning to break anything. It so
happens there's a door they've left open." I grinned. "Surely they wouldn't
make it so easy for a thief?" "They might not be expecting anyone to land on
the roof and enter that way."

Half an hour later, I was wearing my sky blue flight suit as I gently dropped
out of the sky like a falling feather, to land on the tower roof. I walked
over to the safety fire door I'd used last night, and I remembered where the
opening bar is. You push that, the door opens. Of course, there's no way to
push it from the outside. Or so they thought. But they didn't know about wavy
gravy.

It's a bit like if you wiggle your hand in water; you set up a wave that can
make your rubber duck bob up and down on the other side of the bath. Now
here's the neat thing. Put your loofah across the bath, wiggle your hand, and
the duck still bobs. Kind of action at a distance. You can do the same with
the gravy; I waved the opening bar towards me and the door popped open. Wavy
gravy goes straight through anything solid, no trouble. So do sound waves,
that shouldn't be a surprise. I walked in.

In any setup like this, you can be pretty sure that the important people are
at the top of the tower. I don't know why, I think it's a natural human
instinct, on account of the people at the top can piss down on the people
below. So I started my search at the top. But what was I looking for? I really
didn't know. A dead body would have been nice, but more likely I was looking
for some billion pound fiddle that disguised losses as profits. And I didn't
even know what that would look like. But I didn't really have any good
alternative.

Then, as I was rummaging through yet another desk, I heard footsteps in the
corridor outside. Staying six inches above the ground for silence, I moved to
the door and peered out. Some balding old fart in a suit. Hey, wait a minute.
I saw that face in that glossy report! That's the Director of Finance. If
anyone would know where the weevils were, he would. All I needed to do was
persuade him to tell me.

I thought of Sharon's idea, 3000 feet and no parachute. No, it really won't
work. And I thought maybe if I had lascivious passionate sex with him ... and
then I thought, ugh. Or maybe Fluff could fluff it out of him? Or get Sharon
to show him her biceps, and threaten to break off his leg and stuff it down
his throat? Or something. Something. Something subtle. I was getting an idea.
The plan was a bit complex, but each part of it was pretty simple, and it had
the virtue of being close enough to legal to stand a chance of standing up in
court. Yes!

I rose up to the ceiling, and flew out of the door, down the corridor, in
pursuit of the suit. I came up behind him, and swooped down, I put my hands
under his armpits, lightened the gravy, and tugged him up into the air, rolled
left, through the door and into the stairwell. By the time his brain had
processed the information, he was flying with me up the stairs, and didn't
dare to try to get away or he'd go tumbling down several flights. I blasted on
up, through the fire door, out onto the roof. And on the roof, I didn't stop.
I pulled him to the edge, and over we went.

At that point, he screamed. And wet himself. You can't blame him, this is way
outside his paradigm, and whereas I usually give people a very gentle
introduction first time up, he was like *totally* in the deep end. Or rather,
the high end. 1000 feet up, and no easy way down. And rising, as I took him up
to my preferred angels three before setting course for Fluff's flat in
Ruislip.

I hovered outside Fluff's bedroom window; I could see she was at home. I
knocked on the glass, she looked up, grinned, and opened the window for me. I
waved Fluff away so he wouldn't see her, bundled the suit inside, and tied him
to the bed, arms and legs outstretched. Spreadeagle. Lovely. Then I pulled his
trousers down, to make him feel really vulnerable and humiliated. I wrinkled
my nose at his wet underpants. And now, at last, I spoke to him. "Ve haff vays
of making you talk", in my best cod-German accent. He looked scared. "Already
you haff vetted your hosen. Zat is nozzings, nozzings to vat ve vill do next."
I smiled at him an evil smile, and walked out, closing the door behind me.

I whispered to Fluff. "Go get the uniform, the Gestapo torturer, you remember
from the video you told me about?" Fluff giggled. "Yum yum. And the
nutcracker?" "Of course the nutcracker." "And the crocodile clips?"
"Naturlich". And I explained the rest of the plan to her. "Understand?" Fluff
nodded. "Yes, and I'll get Harry and Sharon genned up."

Fluff shot off in a taxi while I raided her food cupboard. She'd restocked it
while I'd been out being Beattie Burglar, and there was lots to eat. Just as
well, flying makes me so hungry. While I ate, I phoned Harry, and explained
the rest of my plan; Fluff would explain it to them again, just to be certain.
"It'll take us a little while to get ready for that" he said. "Don't worry,
sugar, everything's under control here. Take as long as you need. Make it look
good, though." "Don't worry, Min. What you're asking for is actually Sharon's
specialty. She makes your average dominatrix look like a sweet innocent wimp."

I left the suit to stew in his own juices for a while, but put some Wagner on
the stereo, to help create the mood. Then Sharon arrived. "Linda and Harry are
getting ready" she whispered. "How do I look?" "Sharon, you look absolutely
bowel-loosening." And I meant it. If I'd been seeing her for the first time
dressed like that, I'd have dived out of the nearest window as fast as I
could. Come to that, I'd take that exit even if I couldn't fly.

She was magnificent. She was dressed as a cross between a Wagnerian Valkyrie
and a Gestapo torturer. Six foot six of heavily muscled female fortitude,
balanced on five inch heeled jackboots. A tight and tailored shirt gave her
breasts a severe look, rather than her more usual nurturing look. The peaked
cap made her look official, the black tailored jacket with badges of insignia
made her look like a colonel in the secret police, but without hiding the
emphatic breasts that thrust forward aggressively. The short skirt and black
stockings made her look sexy and severe, the black leather gloves seemed to
promise barehanded mayhem and pain. But the really superb touch, was the large
coiled whip that she carried on her hip.

She strode into the bedroom; I follwed her in to watch; this was likely to be
rather fun.

"Vhere ist mein victim" she yelled. The suit took one look at her, and wet
himself again. "Ah, ze darlink, ze sweet little menchkin. All zat soft flesh,
all zose tender delicate uncut genitals." She took a pair of dressmakers
shears out of her bag. "You vould like a trim, yes?" She put the shears down,
and uncoiled the whip. CRACK! CRACK! The suit whimpered. "Please no, please
don't" "Don't vorry, mein little leibling, I vill leave you an inch to piss
with. Heh heh heh. Maybe two inches if you are a good little menchkin"

Well, she obviously had the role down pat; this was straight out of "Nazi
torture maidens", which apparently had sold rather well, with some extra stuff
borrowed out of "Kempei-tai Castration Chamber". And the suit seemed to lap it
up. "You vill tell me everything!" "I don't know anything." "Leibling, you
know plenty. Trust me, darlink. You know lots and lots, and very soon you vill
share it all vith your friend Gretchen. I am your friend, aren't I?" He
gulped. "I do so vant to be your friend, liebling, I vant you to confide in
me, tell me all your little secrets. You do vant to tell me all your secrets,
don't you mein little sugarpie?"

Sharon took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves. The suit had obviously
never seen a St Hilda's nun before, and Sharon was a particularly fine
specimen, even though she'd left the convent years ago. She did a double-flex
for him, and her biceps weren't much smaller than his waist. But much harder,
very much harder.

"Your feeble body vill be crushed by my mighty muscles", she explained to him.
"You vill not be able to resist my enormous pressure. You vill sing like a
budgerigar." She untied the ropes that bound him to the bed. "Ve vont be
needing those" she explained. "My huge muscles are all I need to control you"
and she showed him what it felt like when you were trapped in a headlock by an
arm that was bigger than your head. Then she gathered him up in a cradle hold,
folding him in half and forcing his head down to his toes. With his belly
compressed like that, he couldn't breathe, and he started to struggle. Sharon
just increased the pressure, and soon his struggles stopped. Then she
released him, and lay him out of the bed again.

While he was regaining consciousness, she unpacked her handbag. Nutcracker,
crocodile clips - she even had a good assortment of hose clips. His eyes were
open, so she showed him a few of her toys. "Ziss is for a garden hose, you
slip the circular clip over the hose, then you tighten this screw, and it
compresses the tube. You understand, my darlink little menchkin? You
understand?" His eyes were almost popping out of his head, he was breathing in
short pants.

Then she showed him the rope with a toggle at each end, and she explained what
it was for. "You understand vhat is a vedgie, sweetpie?" He goggled,
horrified. "Zis is like a wedgie, but not so comfortable, ze rope can be
pulled as tight as my muscles can get it, deep in your soft vhite flesh, my
little liebchen. Oh, you vill enjoy zis vedgie, my sweetpie. It is called an
Uberwedgie."

The suit moaned some more. "Please no. What do you want to know, I'll tell
you, I'm no hero." "I vant to know everythink, darlink. Everythink. I vant you
to sing your little heart out. Sing, sing and sing some more. Hildegarde, tell
mein little freind what tune to sing."

I sat down on the bed next to him, and stroked his upper thigh. "Ve vant to
know about all the naughty accounting tricks you've been playing in the last
few years." He closed his eyes, and swallowed. Great! Looks like he knows what
I'm talking about. We're on the right track here. "All the hidden stuff, the
secrets of the International Telecom accounts. How you made those losses into
profits, where you hid the red ink." "I ... I can't. I'll get put in prison."
"Or maybe I'll only leave you vith half an inch" said Sharon, sitting down on
the bed on his other side, snipping the air with her huge dressmaker's shears.
"Half an inch should be enough if you're careful, sweetkins. And the hose clip
will help to control it." "Noooo... " he moaned. "Yes, yes" said Sharon, and
she snipped with the dressmaker's shears, where he could see the blades
slicing together in front of his face. "Oh look, mein darlink, I've been a
little careless, I've cut off a little bit of your hair." He went white.

Suddenly, there was a crash in the dining room, and then the bedroom door
burst open. Fluff and Harry had arrived.

Fluff, I have to say, looked fantastic. She was wearing a sort of one-piece
swimming costume made out of a Union Jack, with a bustier to help her rather
ordinary breasts seem to be a lot more than they actually were. She was
wearing hot pants, also in a Union Jack motif, and a tiara in her hair. "The
Duchess!" I shouted. "Look out, Gretchen, it's the Dutchess." Harry, wearing
an evening suit with a black velvet jacket, and looking *very* dishy, walked
in behind her and closed the door. "Good evening ladies. My name is Bond.
Basil Bond." Sharon (Gretchen) made a dive for Fluff (the Dutchess), Fluff
stepped aside, Gretchen hit the door, didn't stop and went straight through in a
great crash of broken wood. I jumped toward Harry (Basil) and kicked at his
head. He grabbed my foot as it came up, and heaved. I flew up, back, and out
through the open window. "One down, one to go" said Basil. Gretchen tumbled back
through the door, closely followed by the Duchess. Gretchen stood up, the Duchess then swung
a huge punch at Gretchen's face. Basil clapped his hands loudly at the point
where it looked like she was connecting, and Gretchen threw herself backwards,
hit the wall, Basil stamped down with his foot to make a thud, and Sharon
slumped down to the floor, her eyes closed.

The Duchess blew on her knuckles. "Too much pepper" she remarked. "I told you
not to mention the war" said Basil.