Caught in the Rain

Looping the hogtie rope through those on Tracy's shoulders, Katya didn't stop tightening until Tracy was held rigidly in place, her shoulders and legs pulled toward each other. Tracy quickly found that whatever mobility she retained accomplished her nothing. She could writhe and squirm in place but couldn't shift position. She seriously doubted she could even roll onto her side, whatever that would do. Her clawing fingers found ropes but no knots. She didn't even have any idea where to look for them.

Either as an act of mercy toward Tracy, or just to showcase more merchandise, one of the clerks lowered something over Tracy's eyes and tied it behind her head. It wasn't a blindfold or anything, but a decorative mask which covered her forehead to her nose. Tracy could only presume it complemented the mannequin's. Through its eyeholes she started nervously into the rainy parking lot.

Tracy looked to her side as Val repositioned the mannequin. It now towered over her ominously, as though Tracy were its captive. Its expressionless face gave no encouragement. She squealed unhappily but the clerks didn't even seem to want to speak with her anymore. A sign was placed next to Tracy's helpless form that read: Storewide SALE: take 10% off now, 100% off later!

The glass door slid closed. She wrenched her head but found she couldn't turn enough to see behind her. With a metallic click the lock closed and Tracy was alone. She could barely make out the fading footsteps.

* * *

How could they do this? Tracy wriggled ineffectually on her block, looking out through the glass window in terror. She had no illusions. She'd tried to steal and gotten caught. But to be punished by being a human display? Had the stockade in the town square been rebuilt?

It wasn't just the bizarre situation. Tracy had never been helpless like this before. Tied up for sex? Tied up for sales? It all seemed so strange to her. She'd never in a million years have dreamed up something like this. Val and Katya were absolutely certifiable. Insane. Bonkers.

...And gone. Tracy tested her bindings. Her body twisted, her hands clawed, but there was no release to be found. She was stuck in this unworldly hogtied mess, presented behind plate glass for her audience of raindrops. Tracy dreaded the probable, inevitable moment when those raindrops would fall upon a person...or many. Tracy imagined what she must look like. Her glass case was an exhibit and a tomb. She might as well be at the goddamn British Museum. A descriptive sign would look right at home in front of her.

"Tracy" - circa 2016. Of local origin, or a fake? Captured by staff after a failed theft, this specimen is now on display as a representation of common period bondage styles, sales advertisements, and comeuppance.

Her shoulders ached. Well, kind of. They had a definite twinge in them as they stretched back behind her, but it wasn't painful. Tracy felt taut, even trapped, but it wasn't the horror movie she might imagine. Tugging at her wrists and legs, Tracy simply...was. The window box was her universe.

The minutes ticked by, and Tracy shifted uncomfortably, ignoring the warm feeling growing beneath her. She'd never get free by herself. Someone needed to untie her and it sure as hell wasn't going to be either of those witches. If she could get someone to realize she was a helpless captive...

The pack of teenage boys who came by first were not what she had in mind. Who knows why they weren't in school, but Tracy could guess why they happened to wander this way. The internet was full or sex but nothing is quite seeing it in person.

It took about three seconds for Tracy to become their only concern in the world. She tried struggling and moaning at them but it didn't quite garner the reaction she wanted. Grinning stupidly, the boys were soon pointing and gaping at poor Tracy, and one of them pulled out a smartphone. Tracy thrashed against her ropes and gave a whine the boys couldn't hear. At least the mask hid her.

"Son of a bitch," Val's voice sounded from afar, and a moment later Tracy saw her emerge from the store, wearing a long trench coat. The boys immediately scattered as Val yelled something at them. The she turned and gave her captive a wink.

Tracy was beat red, finally appreciating that people could, in fact, see her. The rain was slowing now, and flecks of sunlight were appearing on the horizon.

Val returned to the store. Tracy whined loudly, hoping her involuntary exhibitionism would earn enough sympathy to be let go, but nothing. The boys regrouped across the wet parking lot but Tracy watched them head in the opposite direction.

A few cars trickled into the parking lot. Tracy heard a customer enter the store, presumably from the other direction since no one passed her window. Tracy whined and struggled until she was exhausted, but the mysterious patron never came near enough to hear her through the glass. They left a short while later.

Then someone passed the window, so suddenly that Tracy jumped in surprise. It was a grown man. At first he glanced benignly, trying and failing as men do to look nonchalant in front of a sex shop, but Tracy's bound form made him double take. He looked for a moment and then turned, a tiny grin creeping across his lips. Tracy stared back through her mask. He assumed she really was some kind of willing model. That's probably what Val and Katya intended, but in the split second that their eyes locked, Tracy forgot herself.

This unknown man was fixated. Was it her tits? The chemise certainly didn't hide them, but Tracy didn't think that was it. She'd followed his eyes and they'd barely ventured south. He looked at the ropes, at her joined arms and her legs pulled up behind her. He'd looked into her helpless, wanting eyes and the ball beneath them. And she looked into his and saw his heart skip a beat.

No one had looked at Tracy that way since high school. It was brief. He wouldn't stop or stare in such a setting. But he wanted to, and Tracy knew it. She had stunned him. This man would get on with his errands, go home, and go to sleep, and he'd still be in that moment. She had defined his day.

It wasn't love or even affection. They didn't need names or conversation, or even sex. It was a pure, single moment of tribute. Tracy was beautiful and sexy, tied up in her window, advertising some kink shop, and he was paying homage to her little shrine. By the time Tracy remembered that she wasn't supposed to be flattered, that her flash of excitement was taboo, and that she needed to be signaling such passersby for help, he was gone. All that was left was the thrill, lingering in her chest.

Tracy couldn't chase the image from her head. It stuck in her mind until some while later, when a couple appeared. They looked young, probably students from the university. He was handsome, about a head taller than his pretty blonde girlfriend. Any other day they'd have passed a townie like Tracy in a hurry.

Today they didn't. The boyfriend, ever chivalrous, tried to hurry past the shop like his predecessor had, but the girl stopped him. She saw Tracy and giggled. First taking it as a slight, Tracy quickly realized that the girl was absolutely enraptured by her. She watched the girl's eyes trace every curve and line of her body, occasionally mouthing a silent comment through the glass.

Then Tracy surprised herself by writhingly playfully in her bonds. She looked at the couple as she contorted her body, demonstrating how tightly the ropes held her. She had no idea why she did it, but she did. And once she saw how it made the girl's eyes light up, how it drew an excited smile from her face, Tracy couldn't help but smile back. Her eyes crinkled and the corners of her mouth widened around the gag.

The boyfriend, perhaps looking for a neutral way to contribute, pointed out the sale sign. The blonde girl grabbed his arm encouragingly. They looked back at Tracy, who flicked her eyes in the direction of the shop's door. It was all the convincing they needed and the shrill bell rang again. Of course, Tracy couldn't discern where they went from there. She had a feeling that they might be at the glass backing behind her case, but she couldn't turn around enough to see.

She eventually found closure when she saw the couple leaving the store again, carrying two large bags. The girl walked with a skip, and waved merrily to Tracy as they passed. Tracy couldn't help but feel, in this wordless and unorthodox way, that she'd made a friend through the glass.

A moment later she heard the door of her case slide open for a moment. Val's voice appeared. "Hey...great job in there, really."

Great job? What could Tracy even do, let alone do well? Tracy struggled with the notion until it hit her. She was the fantasy. Onlookers didn't know her plight, or how she'd got there. They merely saw the spectacle. Her helplessness, her raw sexuality, and her attitude.

She looked happy. She looked content. She looked risqué and beautiful. She was supposed to be scared. Embarrassed. Calling for help. Why didn't she look that way?

* * *

Tracy's day was far from over. Cars filled the lot, shoppers filled the walks and stores, and word of the amazing tied up sex-shop lady spread like wildfire. The occasional passerby was replaced with a gaggle, then a crowd of slick raincoats and galoshes.

At first it was terrifying. This awkward kinky display was exactly what Tracy had dreaded. But after the stranger, and the couple, and ample time to get over her initial shock, it wasn't so horrible. It was a little like a roller coaster. Tracy had slowly clanked up the hill, obsessing about the scary drop ahead until she got there and felt an indescribable thrill.

Her heart raced. She spied parents shooing their children past and more teenagers (thankfully) being shamed away by the crowd. She saw a few puritans stare daggers at her, and the ever-gracious mask saved her identity from the barrage of photos being tweeted and posted to Instagram.

But those were the clanks and bugs that could never fully disarm the thrill of the ride. Her audience, young and old, male and female, flamboyant and reserved, loved the bound woman on display. They loved her twitches and her occasional gagged smile. They loved how her muscles strained against taut ropes, and swore they could see a twinkle in her masked blue eye. And the bell at the shop's door couldn't stop singing her praises.

Being tied up actually helped. If Tracy were free, with all these people watching, she'd feel like she had to perform somehow. Dance or strut or pose or something, like the professional model she wasn't. But what was there to do when she was tightly tied? Tracy could struggle a bit, shift and shake around, but that's it. It was liberating in a way. Tracy was on display, anonymous and safe in her case, rather than putting on some show. It's all anyone could expect, and it was all her crowd really wanted to see. They kept her moving, kept the ropes from aching, and kept the time from lagging.

Val and Katya were nowhere to be found. After Val's brief compliment they didn't even check on her. Tracy's full attention was beyond the glass, fixed on her ever-changing choir on onlookers, gawkers, gossipers, and apparently a few fans. Perhaps it was better this way. It made it easier for Tracy to focus on the fantasy.

Even if they would understand her, and not think it was part of some act, she didn't think to call for help. Tracy before the window display would have in an instant, but not in here. She was someone else in here.

Time slipped by until Tracy spotted a new face in the crowd. He seemed neither amused nor repulsed by her playful writhing. Dressed smartly in a tailored black suit, he seemed at first to be more interested in the crowd itself. But once he saw Tracy his eyes went wide and he dashed for the door. Tracy might have just figured him for the impressionable type until she heard the glass sliding open behind her. Venetian blinds suddenly dropped before Tracy's eyes, and the muffled groan of the crowd could be heard outside.

"Alright, that's enough for one day," came a gentle unknown voice as she felt hands releasing her hogtie. Tracy grunted nervously, but that quickly melted into a relaxed moan as her legs were allowed to extend at long last. She wasn't prepared for just how sore being tied like that would make her.

"Katya!" the man called as he worked, "Katya, who the hell is this?"

Heavy footsteps sounded Katya's arrival. "That is...um...well, I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? I didn't sign off on hiring any more staff. Let alone sticking them in the goddamn window. Whose idea was this anyway?"

"Well..."

"Look, it's closing time, just get the store cleared and locked up. And send Val over here!" Tracy smiled as he continued untying her. Her shoulders burned as her elbows parted for the first time in hours. This man was swift, yet gentle. He seemed aware of Tracy's fatigue and was releasing her in comfortable stages.

"Yeah, Don?" Val sounded uneasy.

"Who is this?" Don asked sternly.

"Oh! That's, uh...well, we never really got her name. Look, we caught her trying to steal!" Val said defensively.

"What?" Don shouted. Tracy got a little nervous now. Did he have the same attitude toward thieves as Val and Katya? Her hands and feet were still tied...

Tracy felt her gag coming free, and realized just how much her jaw ached. She turned her head to see him looking her over with concern.

"Are you ok? What's your name?" he asked.

"Ah...jeez, my name's Tracy," she managed despite the discomfort,

"I'm Don. You're in my shop's window."

"C-can you let me go, please?" Tracy choked. Might as well try.

"Yeah, yeah of course!" Don had her free of the remaining ropes in seconds. She sat up gingerly inside the window box, head brushing the hand of the mannequin. "Someone please tell me what the hell is going on!"

Val, to her credit, didn't lie as she explained the morning's events. But she was quick to emphasize Tracy's attempted theft.

"So, instead of calling the police, you tie her up and stick her in the window? What the hell were you two thinking?!" Don shouted some more.

"Look, she's great!" Val exclaimed. "Sales today tripled—"

"Sales? You kidnap a person for sales?" Val looked very different in her tiny waistcoat now. The color had drained from her face. Katya seemed to be avoiding the front of the store.

Don turned back to Tracy. "Look, uh, Tracy," he said kindly, "I am so sorry about this. I have no idea what possessed them to do this. I understand if you want to press charges."

"No," Tracy said after some hesitation. "This whole thing was stupid. I'm not, you know, happy with what they did but, honestly...I did try to steal, after all."

"That doesn't make this ok..." Don began.

"I know, it doesn't," Tracy agreed, "but you know, it's weird. I was in there all day and...and I actually had some fun. I haven't had any fun since...I don't know when. A while."

Tracy looked at the ground. Something about the situation had her feeling pensive.

"...a long fucking while," she finished. It wasn't really about her anger or fear anymore. They had long passed. "I would never have expected it, but I think I needed that."

Don looked skeptical, but offered no comment. Instead he said, "well, I'm glad you're ok, but I think we need to make this up to you in some way."

"Well, I think I'd like my clothes back," Tracy said pithily. Don smiled while Katya, who'd overheard, came bolting from the back room with Tracy's things in hand. Tracy stared at the blinds instead of her.

"So, I really helped out today?" Tracy asked. She hadn't been privy to anything but her little window all day.

"Uh, yeah. A lot. Don, I've never seen the store this busy. Katya and I have been running ourselves ragged all day," Val said breathlessly. She hurried off to grab a tablet from the main counter. Tracy thought that making her run in those heels all day was probably punishment enough.

"Many people came in asking us about her especially," Katya added, "They told us they wanted to look like the lady in the window. A few bought everything she had on her."

Val showed Don the day's sales figures on the tablet. Don was clearly trying not to make light of what Val and Katya had done, but Tracy caught his eyebrows trying to rise. She realized she couldn't go after him over something he'd no knowledge of. And Tracy wasn't exactly a pure and innocent soul.

"Is it a lot?" Tracy asked politely.

"It's one of the best days we've ever had, except maybe around Valentine's Day," Don admitted. But his expression turned wooden again. "Look, that doesn't matter, though. Val, Katya—"

"Can I have a job?" Tracy interrupted. She knew where he was going with that, and if anyone had a right to be mad at those two, it was Tracy. But she wasn't.

"What?" Don stared at her.

"A job," Tracy smiled nervously, "Seems like I helped business today. Couldn't one of you maybe...put me back in the window tomorrow, let me do it again?"

All three of them stared at her until Don said, "Are you sure, Tracy?"

"Well, as long as you guys do a good job. I need to look convincing," Tracy's smile widened.

"And if I said yes...how much do you want?"

Tracy thought for a moment.

"I want what they make," she gestured to Val and Katya, "plus five percent."

Don looked confused. "Five percent?"

"Of sales. Gross, not net," Tracy's eyes twinkled. She was intimately familiar with the concept of leverage. Just usually not from this end.

So was Don. There was no way he could refuse, and took Tracy's deal before she pushed for even more. Ring or no ring, she just might make this month's rent after all.