Marta's Prey

Purring.

That's what Marta Alfonsi liked to think of the noise she made when she was in that "mood". She was seated graciously on a Beneti's Elena sectional couch in the gargantuan sized living room of the Alfonsi mansion in Manchester, NY. The couch cost around $10,000, a pittance, really. Marta wished Lorenzo had made a better, higher quality purchase. Now was not the time, however, to bitch about furniture. She crossed one smooth, shapely leg over the other, her long dress riding up slightly. The silky softness of her wine red dress clung to her body in a nice way. It was tailored by a private Italian company, Marta's favorite. The dress cost more than the couch, making Marta smile, showing off her perfectly done white teeth. Not the trashy, bright white teeth people got done, but a natural, properly done job. She held a goblet of champagne in her right hand, while gently stroking her leg with her left. It was an intentionally provocative gesture, designed to test the woman sitting at the other end of the half-moon couch.


Come and play.


The other woman noticed, but gave no hint to her thoughts. She was a shade under six feet, ample muscles, but not overtly. The African-American features were firm and beautiful, with more of a hard edged beauty. Her normally black hair was dyed a deep shade of purple and slicked back into a blowback style. Maybe that's where the name came from, "Violet" Marta mused. Blue jeans, a white tank top, and a leather jacket, casual dress, which told Marta this woman didn't give a shit what she thought of her. That was fine with Marta. From what she heard this Violet was good. Speak of the devil.

"So, are you as good as they say?" Marta sipped her wine.


"Try getting a girl, tied, gagged, and stuffed in a suitcase out of a hotel." Violet retorted. "Then escaping a county jail with two cops watching your every move."


"Pppffft!" Marta spit her wine back into the goblet, "I heard, I just thought the reports were exaggerated."


The woman swore several obscenities.


Marta raised an eyebrow, a silent mime why?


"Did you call me here, paying my fare and hefty consultancy fee to hurl insults at me? Fine. I have better things to do," Violet stood up.


"Sit down, just sit the hell down," Marta waved her wine glass, "I am not insulting you, I am merely verifying it. The last girl I hired screwed up royally. She will be paying for it for the rest of her life. Yes. I will hire you, but there are several things we must go over." Marta smiled, noting how her look was having on Violet after she mentioned about the former employee of hers. Lorenzo always said she was like a tigress.


Violet sat back down, "I'm listening."


"I will hire you, a thousand dollars a day, with weekends off. For however many years you want to work." Of course, once you started working for the Alfonsi family that was it. You work till you die or try to leave, which you would die then as well. Or something worse might happen. Violet didn't need to know that, though.


"Two thousand," Violet countered.


"Deal," Marta somehow managed to pull her dress up farther.


Violet looked annoyed, "You can stop doing that."


"Stop doing what?" Marta innocently intoned.


"I'm asexual."


"Ahh, I see. Well," Marta purred, "I'm sure that will be a very valuable trait to have for my services. Now, what is your connection to this man who calls himself the "Outlander"? Wears all black, thinks he's a vigilante/detective type?" A game of chess, Marta thought of it as. She had truly made her first move, revealing that she knew far more than Violet suspected. That was why she had spit her wine back into her glass earlier, feigning surprise at the jailbreak and abduction. That particular kidnapping had interested Marta. The way it was handled, Marta wasn't sure if she could do better herself. She would never admit it. It intrigued her, especially since it had involved her prey, Becky.


Violet, who had remained very stoic up until this point, looked stricken, "I don't know how you found out about that.
We…..were lovers and partners in crime once. He knows my signature moves very well. I know his. It's a game we have been playing since our breakup. He wants to see me in jail. Me? I don't know what I want to see happen to him," Violet stopped talking. She appeared to be finished speaking for the time being.


Marta intuitively realized that she should not press this. All in good time. "I suppose to be fair, I will tell you a little of my plan. Becky Carter continues to investigate my husband and I. This does not please me. Not. One. Bit," Marta pursed her lips as she thought of the snooping reporter.


Becky Carter had first walked into her life several months ago for an interview at Marta's home, snooping around when Marta's back was turned, almost exploiting the Alfonsi's criminal operations. Marta had responded in a most severe manner. She smiled to herself, remembering. She had trussed and gagged the girl and her little blue haired friend. Very tightly, and very securely. Becky had put up a hell of a fight, even managing to hit Marta hard enough to hurt her. Now she wanted to make sure she was ready, that when the mice came to play, the tigress would be waiting to pounce. She was filled with a giddy sensation just thinking about it. Marta Alfonsi could not remember ever feeling so alive, so ready for a challenge like this. The simple thrill of matching her wits with someone like Becky, who was one of the most determined and capable people Marta had met. Even though the girl had been rendered helpless. There were similarities between Becky and herself. Becky's dad Jason Carter, Marta recently found out, had been a government agent. He died several years ago, the cause of death being classified and the family was supposed to keep mum on the subject. What interested Marta was that, after she finagled with her money and influence, to uncover a few things about Jason Carter's death. Very likely a cover-up regarding the man's death. Which put Becky in a whole new light, giving them something in common. Why would Becky Carter, in the face of a possible cover-up about her father's death, put any faith in the judicial system? Why be on the side of law and order, when they were responsible for a parent's death?


Why?


Marta thought of her own father, Francisco. He had been a low level enforcer for the Alfonsi crime family when Marta was a little girl.
Then one day, Italian police had raided their house. Francisco had put up his hands, and Marta had watched in horror as the police shot him dead.
At least, that's how Marta remembered it, and technically that's all that mattered. She never trusted a government official again. Marta had grown up, turning into a beautiful young woman, marrying the handsome heir to the Alfonsi crime syndicate. Her father would have been proud. The rest, as they say, was ancient history.
The way Marta saw it, Becky should feel the same way she did. True, their situations varied, but still. Marta could not understand why Becky was so determined to bring her down. Why help the law when they hurt you? Maybe Becky denied it, not wanting to face the truth. Well, Marta would have to show her they weren't so different after all. Hopefully Becky would learn soon, while bound and gagged. The idea of Marta reading another story to Becky while she was incapacitated filled her heart with joy.


She snapped out of her daydreaming, and turned back to Violet. On Violet's part, the woman was patiently waiting on Marta, "As I was saying about Becky. I had hired someone to follow the meddling reporter and keep an eye on her activities. The Gordian knot was, Becky spotted her and asked her why she was being followed. That stupid woman got herself noticed. What a moron. Which brings me to yet another thing to show you. Come with me." Marta purred, sounding smooth and alluring. She beckoned to Violet with a long, slender finger.


***


Violet followed, but kept several feet between her and Marta. The Italian woman noticed, smirking to none but herself. She led Violet through narrow hallways, the place really was a maze. They came to a flight of stairs, with Marta smoothly glided down them.


Upon entering the basement, Marta twirled around and said in a breathy voice, "Welcome to my parlor."


Violet glanced around, stiffening slightly. It was like any other fancy parlor in a rich person's house, with the exception of one thing, leaning against the couch, a woman sat on the floor. She was dressed only in a bra and panties, and her head lolled back on the couch, eyes closed. Five or six pieces of duct tape were slathered over her mouth, sealing her lips shut. Upon hearing the women's arrival, she jerked up, pulling inadvertently against her wrists which were crossed and bound with more of the grey industrial strength adhesive. Ankles, thighs, and several loops around her stomach helped keep her hands pressed tightly against her back.


"Hhllfmmpp mmllf!" The woman screamed into her closed mouth.


Violet glanced at Marta, who looked like she was enjoying every minute of this, "I'm assuming this is the woman who screwed up?"


"It is," Marta purred.


"Mmmppfggh!" the woman's eyes roved wildly about, then fixated on Violet. The woman shook her head madly at Violet, pleading orbs on the verge of tears.


"I suppose you want me to untie you, then call the cops?" Violet asked the gagged woman.


"Mmpphh!" her hopeful eyes answered Violet's question. Violet laughed heartily, and Marta's victim looked confusedly at her, "You think I'm going to untie a worthless scumbag like you? For what, honor? Justice? Ha!" Violet sneered. She couldn't care less about people in general.


The woman wailed pleadingly into her taped mouth.


Marta leaned down, patting her captive's cheeks, "There, there. Do not worry. I shall make it all better."


The captive looked at Marta earnestly.


"By better, I mean a better gag, better restraints. I want to have more fun with you yet," Marta purred incessantly.


Violet wasn't sure what to make of Marta exactly. She had no illusions of her own morality, but thought it would be best to keep a safe distance from her new employer. "So what will happen to her?" Violet was curious about Marta's methods. The woman had a reputation for being severe in the criminal underworld.


"When I am finished with her, I will sell her to a bondage model collector in Italy. There, his girls spend sixteen hours a day in various bound poses. They are heavily gagged and cannot move at all. For the remaining eight, they are in a cell, doing whatever they like. Not a bad life, I suppose. Still, not one I would choose."


At the mention of this the woman began squirming and yelling as she wrestled with the sticky tape.


Marta grabbed the captive's hair with a vicious yank, "I said when I am finished with you, and I am nowhere near finished."


Violet liked this woman, she finally decided. She was ruthless and cunning. Violet looked forward to working with her. She also anticipated holding that blond girl hostage again. Violet didn't like the fact that the girl escaped her clutches.


***


Riiiiiiinnnngggg


The buzzer sounded, indicating someone was at the door. Marta let go of the woman's hair reluctantly. Probably her packages had arrived.


"Come with me." Marta said.


"What about her?" Violet asked.


"She is not going anywhere."


The woman screamed after Violet, making a last ditch desperate effort to beg for release.


Marta noted that Violet truly didn't care, turning her back to the captive woman. Marta and Violet traipsed back up the stairs to get the door.
She'd given the last several days off to the servants, so she would have to physically get to the door. No problem. The packages would be worth it.


***


"If you could sign here, ma'am," The UPS driver handed her a stylus to sign on his electronic device.


Marta signed. The man smiled at her, then went around to the back of his truck, pulling the door open.
He grabbed two boxes and carried them up to the massive double doors, "You want me to bring these inside? You have another thirteen."


"Yes, put them in my living room."


Violet looked curious, Marta noted. While most people would not be able to read Violet's emotional giveaways, Marta Alfonsi had devoted several years of her life to learning how to read people. Walk in the park, really. Ten minutes later the boxes were unloaded, UPS man gone, and Marta had another wine glass in hand.


"So, I'm not gonna assume that these came on the same day as my arrival. No coincidence there. What's in them?" Violet asked.


Curiosity. It's what got people into so much trouble, Marta mused. She picked up the boxcutter knife off the end table.


She slit one of the boxes open. "Take a look," she purred.


Violet peered into the box.


Rope.


Yards upon yards of rope. Marta began opening the other boxes, checking each one. Duct tape of all sizes, colors, and strengths. Handcuffs, ankle cuffs, chains. Leather armbinders, belts. One box held an assortment of socks and panties. The biggest box held several foot traps, not big enough to be called a bear trap. They were lined with a very soft, foam substance. Marta had them specifically made, strong enough to hold a human leg, but not powerful enough to break it. They would make excellent traps for snoops.


Marta glanced at Violet over a box of goodies, smiling slyly.


Violet couldn't help herself, she smiled back, "I think I'm going to like working for you."


Marta began making that noise she referred to as "purring".