The Perils of Wpc Drummond

By Tull

During the late 1980s and the early 1990s, WPC Harriet Drummond's previously uneventful police career gradually became more, well, interesting. She got her wish - it seemed as if she was being singled out by fate, to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That of cause meant that she had to be "dealt with" by the criminals who also occupied that time and place. After all, she had joined the police force so that she could meet a variety of people. It wasn't her fault that the people she met were, all too often, criminals who wanted to tie her up.

However, what was bad news for WPC Drummond is good news for us, if we enjoy reading about a well-endowed, smartly uniformed lady whose work keeps taking her into dangerous situations. Situations where she's always bound and gagged, often blindfolded, and sometimes spanked.

Collected here are the stories that first appeared at KP Presents, in one volume for your enjoyment.

ALL PROCEEDS FROM SALES OF THIS BOOK GO TO MACMILLAN NURSES.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781326955700

Book preview

The Perils of Wpc Drummond

The Perils of WPC Drummond

By Tull

Copyright (C) 2017 Tull

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-1-326-95570-0

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A Word From the Author

During the late 1980s and the early 1990s, WPC Harriet Drummond's previously uneventful police career gradually became more, well, interesting. She used to think her work was repetitive and boring, and hoped that something would happen to liven it up. Harriet soon came to realise that there was a lot to be said for a quiet life. It seemed as if she was being singled out by fate, to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That of cause meant that she had to be dealt with by the criminals who also occupied that time and place. After all, she had joined the police force so that she could meet a variety of people. It wasn't her fault that the people she met were, all too often, criminals who wanted to tie her up.

However, what was bad news for WPC Drummond is good news for us, if we enjoy reading about a well-endowed, smartly uniformed lady whose work keeps taking her into dangerous situations. Situations where she's always bound and gagged, often blindfolded, and sometimes spanked.

Please note, although the stories end with Harriet facing an uncertain future, she did actually leave the police force and continues to interfere in other people's affairs.

The Thrice-Captured Constable

AUGUST 3RD.EARLY MORNING AT THE BANK (1)

WPC Harriet Drummond was enduring a period of enforced inactivity. Again! In complete darkness, her eyes and mouth covered, her arms strapped firmly behind her back, she sat fixed to the stool as if she was glued to it. They had used an entire roll of tape to restrain her, after using her own Hiatt handcuffs to fasten her hands behind her back. She had no choice but to sit there and await discovery, and to think about the mess she was in. I can't believe that I've allowed myself to get in this situation again, she thought. She thought back to the time, only a few months ago, to the first time she was ever captured by criminals. Until then she had by pure luck, managed never to be involved in any dramatic incidents. Her superiors saw her as a reliable plodder. She was beginning to find it rather dull. She had wished that her police career hadn't been so uneventful. And, then it all seemed to change, and she had, on three occasions, found herself in the role of a damsel in distress, a captured constable.

MAY 15TH, TROUBLE AT THE POLICE STATION

It began on the day she was appointed as relief Duty Sergeant. There was a music festival in a town five miles away, and most of her colleagues had been drafted there. The powers that be had concluded that there would be plenty of misdemeanours at the event. As usual they were wrong and it had been more peaceful than many top football matches. But it was not going to be so for Harriet, back at the police station.

She saw the appointment as recognition of her hard work and diligence, and hoped nothing would go wrong. She expected a calm evening with perhaps the occasional arrest. She knew better than her superiors that the progressive rock fans weren't going to be causing many affrays. By 1.30 she was alone at the front desk. Those constables who were on the premises were somewhere upstairs, and only three of the cells were occupied.

Two of the occupants were troublesome drunks who were now asleep, and the third was a young East European man. He had been stopped for a driving offence, but his car had also contained a large number of replica guns. Harriet had commented that she thought they were legal. This was true, but apparently they were all of a type that could readily be adapted to fire real bullets. The high-ups had decided that he should be detained until more could be found out. During the early evening, he had spoken on the phone to his solicitor, another of his compatriots. Since then he had sat quietly in the cell. The solicitor would be coming in the morning. So she was rather surprised to look up from her desk to see two smartly suited gentleman smiling at her.

They stood for a moment summing up the desk sergeant. They saw a pretty, generously built brunette in her thirties, not very tall for a policewoman. She looked every bit the efficient police sergeant, in her crisp white shirt, dark blue tie, matching skirt and black lace-up shoes, but her friendly expression and approachable manner made them both think she would be a pushover.

Can I help you? she said as she looked at the pair.

Mr Calinescu said the smaller of the two men. I represent Mr Luca, who is here in custody. May I speak with him?

When? You mean now? That can't be right. You will have to come back in the morning, when everyone is here.

I was told that we are able to see him tonight. I spoke to one of your superiors to arrange this. I am from our embassy. He pulled a small dark blue booklet from his pocket, opened it briefly, then closed it again and replaced it. She caught a brief glimpse of a photograph that looked like him. She didn't want to ask to see it more closely, she would feel stupid.

Harriet considered the situation for a moment. If one of her superiors had authorised a meeting, then she would get it in the neck for preventing it. It seemed whenever she made a decision, someone up there thought it was wrong. She knew they wanted to resolve the issue. Here was a chance to make brownie points. Very well. Will you accompany me please? She slipped the bolt on the counter and lifted it to admit them. As they followed her along the corridor, she was unaware that Mr Calinescu had taken a small handgun from his pocket.

Here he is, in here she said as she unlocked the cell door.  You've got visitors, Mr Luca.

Luca had been asleep. He rubbed his eyes, looked at Harriet and the two men, and smiled as he spotted the gun. Time to go then he said as he rose from the bunk.

In your dreams said Harriet. She turned to the two men and began These two gentlemen..... Her voice faded as she observed the pistol, not actually pointing at her, but its message clear enough. Well. What do you want? There is really no point in this, my colleagues will be at the front desk by now. You will just make more trouble for yourselves.

The man who called himself Calinescu laughed. If we meet your colleagues, they will have no reason to stop us. If they do, we will bring them here to keep you company. She knew all this was true; she was in deep trouble here with no help at hand. Her only option was to do whatever they told her, and hope they soon cleared off. "I advise you to do only what I say, then you won't get hurt.

Give me your belt, with all the stuff on it, first Calinescu continued. You won't be needing that. Harriet felt a twinge of apprehension about this, she had a feeling it was the handcuffs that had caught his attention. Even so, she quickly unfastened it and handed it sullenly to him. He pulled the Hiatt handcuffs from it and examined them. These look like the business. I haven't seen these before.

Luca chipped in I have. Today. I had the privilege of wearing them for a time. They aren't made with comfort in mind. You know what; they would look good on her. She wasn't very sympathetic to me, so payback time now, eh!

Just what I was thinking.

Harriet felt a deep sense of despair. She, like all police personnel, had played around with the new type of handcuffs when they were introduced, and she thought they were quite harsh and unforgiving, no-nonsense compared to those with a linking chain. She didn't relish the prospect of wearing them for the next few hours. But underlying all that was the feeling that her first shift as a relief duty sergeant had gone so badly wrong.

Don't struggle too much, these might make your wrists a bit sore said Calinescu with a smile as the other two grabbed her by the arms and forced her up against the cell wall. Harriet stood helplessly as she felt her arms pulled behind her back and folded horizontally, and then the cuffs were closed and tightened on her wrists. She knew that this type of handcuff was designed to hold the wearer's arms immovably in that position when applied that way. Then the hands holding her against the wall turned her round roughly. Better silence you, and there isn't much available, except this He took the end of Harriet's tie between his fingers and flipped it up and down, with a grin. She wondered what he was going to do, then he said Another fine mess you've got us into and chuckled. She had already concluded, from his perfect English, that if he was really East European, he had been here a long time. As he didn't look over 40, the Oliver Hardy impression confirmed her opinion. But she didn't feel like laughing. The observation might help identify him in the long term, but it wouldn't help her now. He jerked the tie and drew her toward him.

Please, there's no need to hurt me. I won't make a noise. If you just shut me in here I'll ........

You promise not to call for help! Shhh he put a finger on her lips. Nobody's going to hurt you. Just going to gag you, that's all. He carefully unfastened the tie and drew it away from her, without unfastening her collar. He folded the tie in two, tied a knot in the middle, and then held it up to her mouth.

Open up. You know resistance is futile. He was teasing, but his eyes weren't smiling. He was a bully. She wondered how brave he would be without his henchmen, with somebody who wasn't handcuffed and helpless. She obeyed, casting her eyes downwards. He pushed the knotted part into her mouth, bruising her upper lip, and then she winced as the ends were yanked tight and knotted at the back of her neck. He picked up her belt. Wrap her up in the blanket and put her down there on the bench

The other two men lifted her off her feet, while he pulled the thick blanket from the bunch. He folded it over, and then spread it out on the cell floor. Harriet was unceremoniously dumped at one end the blanket, and then the two men rolled her up inside it, wrapping it round and round her tightly from shoulders to calves, tucking the loose ends inside it. She was lowered down on the wooden slats of the bunk, face down, then her belt was threaded through the slats and fastened tightly round her ankles. Her inclination was to struggle, but she kept as still as possible, she didn't want to be dropped on the hard floor. Then suddenly they stood back from her, exchanged some remarks that she could not understand, then they all left the cell. She heard the door slam and then she was alone.

She was ashamed of herself. She had pleaded with him not to hurt her, she should have been a bit more defiant. A bit more like a policewoman. But what good would that have done? Then she thought about the impression that the night's events would make on her superiors. An uneventful evening in the station and what happens. I let some criminals fool me, I get cuffed with my own cuffs, locked in a cell and, worst indignity of all, gagged with my tie. No good for my street cred and not good for my next appraisal.

She wondered if it was wise to try to escape, or to wait and be sure that they had gone. She hadn't been lying about her colleagues, in fact WPC Sally Stevens had been chatting to her at the desk only moments before the men arrived. Harriet hoped that she would return as soon as they had left the building, and start looking for her. Just don't appear too soon, Sally, and get captured by them, she thought. Please stay upstairs till they've gone. Then she would only have a few minutes in these horrible handcuffs.

After a few minutes she heard voices outside the cell door, and her hopes rose. Was she about to be rescued? The door burst open. She strained to turn and look back over her shoulder, and to her dismay saw that those Romanians were back, dragging WPC Sally with them. One of the men had her arm twisted up behind her back. Sally, a well-endowed girl in her mid-twenties with blonde hair pinned up in a bun at the back of her head, was protesting loudly. There's no need to break my bloody arm, I'm coming, aren't I?

Mr Calinescu addressed her impatiently. Take off your belt and hand it to me. Quick now. Sally's mouth dropped open as she spotted her colleague, lying face down on the bunk, straining to look round at her, gagged with her police tie.

What's happening? Oh hell, Harri, are you OK? What have they...... she couldn't help blurting out. She stopped in mid-question as her arm was jerked up her back again. Harriet nodded, trying to reassure her, then rolled her eyes upwards in resignation. No chance of early rescue now, she thought.

Sally understood now what was going to happen to her. She too was going to be bound and gagged. There wasn't anything she could do. She handed over her belt, then obeyed sullenly when he ordered her to remove her tie and then her tights. At first she was alarmed by the request, but she realised they were going to be used to restrain her.  She had noticed the man looking approvingly at her chest, and decided against unbuttoning her collar when removing her tie. No sense putting temptation in their way, showing them more than they needed to see. For the same reason, she turned her back while removing her tights. He told her not to put her shoes back on. That scared her, she didn't know why he asked that. She was relieved in a way when he ordered her to lie face down on the floor and put her hands behind her back. They just didn't want to wait while she did up her shoelaces, she supposed. And going face down meant she wasn't going to be raped at least, she hoped.

She lowered herself carefully onto the cold floor, noticing with distaste how dusty it was, then clasped her hands behind her back. Ouch, no need to do it so tight. Arsehole! Why are you doing that? She protested loudly as he applied her handcuffs closing them up as tight as possible on her plump wrists.

Shut it, before we turn nasty He yanked up her skirt and gave her a hard and hearty slap across her buttocks. It can get a lot worse. Sally got the message Yes, all right she muttered meekly. Unlike Harriet, she was cuffed with her wrists vertical and her palms facing outward, then she too was gagged with her own tie. Her belt was used to strap her ankles together, and as a final touch her tights were used to pull her wrists and ankles towards each other in a tight hogtie. There was no bunk to put Sally on, so she was left lying face down on the floor.

Once she was immobilised, they left again, closing the door more quietly this time. Harriet had watched as Sally was being restrained, and was glad it was not her lying face down with only a white blouse between her body and the cold stone floor. In the short time that she had been left alone before Sally was captured, there had been no time to try to escape. Now that they were both prisoners in the cell, and the criminals had left, she had to try. The night's events so far had made her feel totally inadequate. At least if they could raise the alarm and get those guys recaptured, she might come out of it looking heroic and competent. Sally was already tugging frantically at the tights, trying to loosen them, but Harriet could see that they were knotted in front of her ankles, out of reach of her fingers. She was never going to get loose that way. But if she herself could get unwrapped from the blanket, and free her feet from the belt, they might be able to do something. Sally had turned herself round and was looking up at Harriet. Wmf gtt gd rsffs ffff she said. Realising how ridiculous she sounded, she stopped to think. Harriet thought she understood, Sally was saying they had to get loose. Like I didn't know that, she thought. But Harriet's ankles were strapped so tightly to the slats that her efforts to turn over were useless. She would have to stay in a face down position until someone unfastened them. Sally kept up her attempts at conversation though. Cn ynnn gu smmmffg lmmph, she said, looking up at her wide-eyed over the knotted tie.

What is she on about, thought Harriet. I'm handcuffed too inside this blanket, hands behind my back. I can't do a bloody thing. It's not just you she tried to say. Sally couldn't understand the succession of unintelligible sounds but she understood her colleague's angry expression

After half an hour, the pair were no nearer to escape. Sally had rolled around on the stone floor, in futile attempts to get to her knees or lever herself up against the bunk. Her white blouse