SAM's WAR-II     by Van ©2013
		BONDAGE FAN FICTION SET IN THE WW-II ENGLAND OF FOYLE'S WAR
		Chapter 4

Whatever the "lotus elixir" the Spider Lady had given Sam might be, its effects continued to build.

Double-wrapped in yard after yard of cotton bandages and strapped down to the hard table, Sam struggled, squirmed, and tried to make sense out of what was happening.  She was able to focus on her surroundings, but now and then her vision would double or images would blur together.  Also, her sense of time was... sliding.  Reality seemed to be alternately speeding up, then slowing down, then speeding up again.  Voices and sounds were distorted, echoing and changing in volume and timbre in a most peculiar and unsettling manner.

The Spider Lady's minions and their mistress had rushed from the chamber, leaving the door wide open, and Sam could hear some sort of battle being waged in the corridor.  There were what she took to be the thuds of bodies crashing together or against the walls, the clang of metal striking metal, and at one point, the staccato bark of a machine-gun—either that or her drugged senses were playing more tricks and she'd heard a rapid series of gunshots that had echoed and bled together.  She couldn't be sure.  She couldn't be sure of anything.

Sam lifted her head and stared at the door, blinking and watching shadows dance on the wall of the corridor beyond.  Suddenly, framed in the doorway, one of the acrobats went flying through the air from left to right.  Someone with incredible strength was tossing the Spider Lady's minions around like dolls!  Another body went flying, and this time it was Mongo the strongman!  The battle continued.  Then, a voice, possibly the Spider Lady herself, shouted a command in Chinese and several acrobats, magician's assistants, and a few Chinese men rushed past the door.  Then... silence.

An eerie calm settled over the chamber, and apparently, the entire subterranean complex.  Sam's breathing and the pounding of her heart were the only sounds, if she didn't count the faint rushing noise that shifted in and out of her consciousness, in rhythm with the shifting focus of the stone walls.  Sam closed her eyes.  Am I dreaming all of this? she wondered.  Is all of this a nightmare?

Time passed, and so did the sudden calm, in a fashion.  Sam drifted in a haze of random, distant noise, real or imagined.  There were shouts in Chinese.  Is the battle still going on?  More gunshots, this time very distant.  There was more shouting in Chinese, even more distant.  Sam struggled, weakly.  I have to wake up.  I have to... escape.

Sam opened her eyes, and stared in amazement.  Standing in the door was...  "Wonder Woman!" she gasped.

She was tall, and strong, and beautiful, and her costume was just as described in the newspapers: a bustier or strapless bathing costume with gilded breast cups, red satin above the waist, and blue satin spangled with white stars below.  A golden girdle something like a corset-belt was around her waist, and from it dangled a coiled, golden lasso.  Wide bracelets or cuffs, possibly of chrome-plated steel, encircled her wrists.  A golden tiara with a single red star crowned her head and pulled back her long, brown hair.  Finally, her feet were in red knee boots with vertical white stripes—and she was incredibly beautiful!

"Thank you, Samantha," Wonder Woman said, a friendly smile curling her exquisite lips and sparkling in her blue eyes.

"I...  I said that aloud?" Sam inquired.

"You did," Wonder Woman confirmed as she walked to the table and began releasing the straps pinning Sam to the table.  She didn't bother with the buckles, but grabbed the straps on either side with both hands and pulled them apart by brute force.

"Diana!" Sam gasped.  "You have to save Diana!  She's being tortured in another chamber!"

"I've already rescued Yeoman Prince," Wonder Woman explained as she lifted Sam's mummified form into her arms.  "Let's get you out of here."

"Diana is safe?"

"She is," Wonder Woman confirmed with a reassuring smile.

Sam's head was still spinning.  She tried to follow where Wonder Woman was taking her, but it was difficult.  They passed several of the Spider Lady's minions sprawled on the floor.  Some were unconscious.  Others were semi-conscious, moaning softly and cradling injured arms or legs.  Mongo was among them.  The muscled giant stared at Wonder Woman as they passed, his expression inscrutable.

Wonder Woman continued down the corridor and began to pick up speed.  Soon, the electric lights were flashing past in an increasingly rapid blur.  Wonder Woman's boots pattered on the stone floor like a drum roll—or maybe it was the drug, again.  In any case, Sam's rescuer was in an all out run, setting a pace Sam was convinced would have easily won the gold medal in any footrace, including the Modern Olympiad.

They flashed out into the open air.

Sam suspected they were somewhere on the banks of the Thames, an impression reinforced by the pungent odour of contaminated water.  Then, the London streets were rolling past at a dizzying pace.  Wonder Woman dodged around taxis, lorries, and in one case, an omnibus.  Sam heard police whistles blow, horns honk, and shouts of amazement.  There were also cheers, especially when they passed groups of soldiers.

Then they were zigzagging down dark alleys.  Wonder Woman skidded to an abrupt halt, leaped straight into the air, and Sam found herself on a rooftop.  Sam's heart was pounding.  Amazement couldn't begin to describe her feelings.  Wonder Woman crossed the roof and jumped again, this time landing on a windowsill.  Cradling Sam in one arm, Wonder Woman opened the window and carried her into the room beyond.

Sam looked around and was even more amazed.  "I am dreaming," she whispered.  It was Diana's flat!  They were in Diana's flat!

Wonder Woman settled Sam's mummified body on Diana's neatly made bed, then began unwinding the bandages encircling Sam's neck.

The door opened and the landlady, Mrs. McGonagall, entered.  "Princess!" she gasped.  "What are you doing to Miss Stewart!"

Wonder Woman continued unwinding the bandages.  "Good evening, Minerva," she chuckled.  "I'm rescuing Samantha from the Si-Fann tong."  Her smile broadened.  "You don't really think I did this, do you?"

Mrs. McGonagall favoured Wonder Woman with a wry expression.  "Given your Amazon sisters' propensity for bondage games, it's not entirely out of the question."

"Escape training is indeed an element of training and recreation on Themyscia," Wonder Woman confirmed with a chuckle, "but this is no game."

Sam blinked at Wonder Woman and Mrs. McGonagall.  "What... what are you..."  Sam was finding it increasingly difficult to speak... or for that matter, to stay awake.

Mrs. McGonagall sat on the bed and gently placed the back of her hand on Sam's forehead.  "She's been drugged."

Wonder Woman nodded.  "I suspect lotus tea."  Wonder Woman's efforts to free Sam had reached her shoulders.

Mrs. McGonagall leaned close and delicately sniffed Sam's breath.  "Yes, lotus tea," she confirmed, then focused on Wonder Woman.  "I assume you have important business to which you must attend.  I will care for Miss Stewart."

"Diana!" Sam gasped.  "Diana!"

"Diana Prince is safe," Wonder Woman reassured Sam, then stood and headed for the window.  "I do have loose ends to tie up before this matter is concluded," she confirmed,  She smiled at Sam as she climbed out the open window.  "Diana will be here soon.  Don't trouble yourself."

"T-thank you," Sam whispered.

"Rest, Samantha," Mrs. McGonagall said with a motherly smile, taking up the task of unwrapping the bandages.  "Close your eyes and rest.  You're safe, and Diana Prince is also safe."

Sam watched Wonder Woman close the window from the outside.  And then she was gone.  She focused on Mrs. McGonagall... or tried.  "Thank you," she sighed, again, and closed her eyes.  She could feel the bandages slithering away.  Mrs. McGonagall might be elderly, but her fingers were nimble and strong... and gentle.  The air was now refreshingly cool on her tingling breasts... her bare, tingling breasts.

"Rest, my dear," Mrs. McGonagall reiterated, continuing her work.

Sam didn't respond.  She was asleep.

d'ARCY MANSION
ST. JOHNS WOOD, LONDON
THE NEXT MORNING

---

Lady Jane d'Arcy was at table in the sitting room off her bedchamber, reading the morning edition of The Times and enjoying a breakfast of tea, eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomato and mushrooms, and toast generously spread with marmalade.  It was more than she could possibly eat, but she knew the staff would consume whatever she left on the table.  It was one of the perks of their employment and allowed her servants more variety of diet than the food ration of the average Londoner.  Her Ladyship was especially fond of Irish bacon in the morning, and indulged herself nearly every day.  Ration books were not for the likes of Lady Jane.

She noticed a pair of noteworthy items in the Metropolitan News section.  There were reports of Wonder Woman running through the central city with some sort of bundle in her arms.  That was... interesting.  Also, Scotland Yard had executed a raid on a nest of criminals in Limehouse, unearthing a considerable tonnage of black market goods.  Lady Jane frowned as she nibbled a slice of toast.  She hoped it wouldn't have an adverse effect on her personal requirements.  That was what truly mattered, of course. 

Her Ladyship also noted that several of the names listed of those "assisting the police with their inquiries" were Chinese in origin.  If this delayed her commission with the Si-Fann, she would be quite peeved.  The Spider Lady's organization wasn't the only Chinese tong operating in the East End, but it was by far the largest and most powerful.  The odds the Si-Fann had taken the hit were... Lady Jane had no idea what the odds might be, but it was unimportant.  Only her revenge was important and she'd already paid the Spider Lady for her services, and quite handsomely at that.

Lady Jane stretched, then pushed her plate away and replenished her tea.  As was her habit, she hadn't bothered to dress before ringing for breakfast.  Her long red hair was loose about her nearly bare shoulders, and she was wearing only a long, daring, hideously expensive nightgown of pink and grey silk and matching slippers.  It was tiresome that the Nazis had occupied Paris.  Lady Jane was forced to replenish her wardrobe using London couturiers.  So very tiresome, but there was a war on, after all.  She supposed some degree of sacrifice was required.

Just then, Lady Jane heard the door to the hall open and her frown returned.  The new upstairs maid was hopeless.  "How many times must I tell you?" she scolded without taking her eyes from the paper.  "You will wait until summoned by the bell.  Only then are you to—M'rrrpfh!"

Lady Jane had been seized from behind!  A hand was clamped over her mouth and she was being dragged from her chair!  The teacup fell from her hand and broke on the table, splattering tea over the plate, newspaper, and tablecloth.  "M'mmmf!"

Her captors were Chinese women, all dressed in clothing typical of the London street.  There were four of them, and with the practised ease of experienced kidnappers, they were binding her with stout rope!  "M'mm—How dare you—M'mrrph!"  The hand-gag had been released, a large wad of silk cloth stuffed in her mouth, and a narrowly folded cloth stretched between her teeth and knotted under her hair at the nape of her neck, cleaving her mouth such that her cheeks bulged from the pressure.

Her wrists were bound together behind her back and more rope tightened around her elbows and pinned her arms to her body, passing above and below her breasts, yoking her shoulders, and encircling her waist and forearms.  The rope bands were tight enough to dimple her arms and silk-covered torso, and tightened even further when her captors pulled strands between her arms and body and cinched the horizontal bindings.  Her Ladyship's legs were next.  Soon, neatly cinched and uncomfortably tight jute bands encircled her thighs, passed above and below her knees, around her calves and shins, and around her ankles.  During her struggles her slippers had flown free and her feet were now bare.

One of the kidnappers produced a roll of white medical plaster and proceeded to neatly and tightly wrap Lady Jane's hands, palm to palm.  Layer upon overlapping layer of taut tape was applied until her hands were mummified from her bound wrists to her fingertips.  Next, one of the women gathered Lady Jane's hair atop her head and held it there while another used the remainder of the tape roll to wrap her already well-gagged mouth, taking tight turns around her head until her lower face was tightly covered from just under her nose to just above her chin.

The chair was turned to face the door and Lady Jane was plunked back down.  She struggled and twisted her tightly bound body and attempted to scream through her gag, but it was hopeless.  Two of her captors had left, but two had remained and were standing on either side of the chair.  Even if all four of the women had left, Lady Jane knew she would still be helpless.  No one could escape from ropes applied with this degree of expertise.

Lady Jane heard someone enter the room.  She lifted her gagged head and her eyes widened in fear.  It was the Spider Lady, herself!  She was dressed like the others, but her clothes were considerably more stylish and expensive.  She would stand out on the streets of London for her foreign features and obvious wealth, but not for unusual attire.

"You have involved the Wonder Woman in my affairs," the Spider Lady accused.  "It has cost me dearly, and now you will pay."  She barked a command in Chinese, spun on her heel, and left the room.

"M'mmf?"  Lady Jane was lifted from the chair and up onto the shoulder of one of the women.  Stomach down, head to the rear and her kicking, bound feet to the fore, she was carried through the door, along the hallway, and down the front stairs.  They passed several more of the Spider Lady's minions, male and female, all wearing European clothing.  They were removing artwork from the walls and packing it in crates, as well as gathering sculptures and other valuable objets d'art, large and small, and packing them away as well.  As for Lady Jane's staff, they were helping the others loot the mansion!  Far from coming to her aid, they seemed pleased by this nefarious turn of affairs.

"Good morning, Your Ladyship!" one of the maids shouted in Lady Jane's direction, and two others giggled in mocking derision.

The precarious journey continued down stairs, through the kitchen, past the pantry, and down to the mansion's extensive cellars.  Lady Jane was carried past the coal bin, brimming to the top with black market coal delivered in dark of night through the chute from the alley.  Next came the dungeon-like cells she used to discipline the maids, with their stout iron bars and dangling chains ending in ankle fetters, iron waist belts, manacles, and locking collars.  Then came piles of furniture, broken and intact, victims of one of Her Ladyship's more violent tantrums or rendered obsolete by one of her periodic fits of redecorating.  Finally, a heavy gate of iron bars squealed open and she was carried into a storeroom.

Neat rows of fifty-five gallon drums of black market petrol occupied half of the large space.  Lady Jane d'Arcy's Rolls-Royce Wraith never left the mansion's garage without a full tank.

Lady Jane was deposited in a heavy wooden chair and more rope used to lash her in place.  Meanwhile, Chinese men were using hand trucks to wheel drums of petrol from the storeroom.  Several turns of rope tightened around Her Lady's neck, under her hair, and a non-compacting knot was tied.  The remaining rope in the coil was tossed over a rafter directly overhead, the slack removed, and the rope knotted to the back of the chair.  The free end was hitched and wrapped around the vertical strands, a final knot tied, and Lady Jane's female handlers stepped back.

Jane was utterly helpless and in despair.  Barely able to squirm, she knew the taut ropes linking her to the rafter would prevent her from tipping her chair, no matter how hard she struggled.  Not that she was particularly anxious to crash onto her side on the stone floor, of course.  Such an eventuality would be most unpleasant, and she very much doubted it would in any way aid any attempt to escape her bonds.  In any case, tipping or even moving the chair more than a fraction of an inch was now impossible.

The Spider Lady entered the storeroom, an evil, gloating smile curling her cruel lips.  Behind her came a male minion carrying two wooden cases, one the size of a large hat box and the other about the size of a shoebox.  He set the cases on the floor, midway between Lady Jane and the remaining drums of petrol, then turned a key and lifted the larger case's lid. 

"This is a radio timing device," the Spider Lady explained.  "When its clock finishes counting down, it will trigger the much smaller timing devices of a series of small explosive and incendiary bombs."

Lady Jane's desperate green eyes widened.  "Mrrrf?"

"Yes, bombs," the Spider Lady purred.  "They have been attached to several of the drums of the petrol you've stolen from your nation's army, one in the coal bin, and three more nestled among the several tons of wooden furniture in the outer cellar.  And now, one will be placed right here."  She made a gesture and the minion flipped a switch on the side of the smaller case, extended a short, telescoping metal antenna, and placed the case atop one of the petrol drums.  Obviously, it was one of the bombs!

"Nrrrf!"

"After my soldiers finish removing everything of value," the Spider Lady continued, "all of the interior doors of your mansion will be propped open, as will every window on the top floor.  When the bombs explode, the resulting conflagration will be exceedingly hot and impossible to extinguish."  Lady Jane was fighting her bonds with all her strength and mewling through her gag.  "The entire structure will act as one huge chimney, you see.  Your body will be reduced to ashes, assuming there is enough left to be called a body after the explosions."

Lady Jane continued struggling, and now tears were streaming from her eyes.  "Mrrrrf!"

"Farewell, Lady d'Arcy," the Spider Lady said, then left the storeroom.

"M'mmpfh!"

The minion flipped a switch inside the large case, extended a telescoping antenna built into its side, then closed and locked the lid.  He smiled and bowed to Lady Jane, then followed his mistress.

"Mrrrm!"  Lady Jane heard the clang of the storeroom's gate closing, followed by the click of a padlock.  Footsteps faded into the distance, and then... silence.  But not quite.  In the dark cellar, helpless and alone, Lady Jane could hear a ticking sound emanating from inside the locked case.

The chair legs scraped on the slightly uneven floor as she struggled.

"Nrrrr."

The ropes binding her to the chair creaked, ever so slightly, as she squirmed and tried to twist her bound body.

"Mmfh."

The timer continued its sinister, monotonous, tick-tock of doom.