”Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste…”

The girl gave a groan and tried to sit up. I watched in fascination as the effects of the drug wore off. It took some time before she realised what had happened to her but eventually realisation dawned and she began to struggle against the ropes. The duct tape that held the pads over her eyes was still doing its job; it was amusing to stand there, unseen, watching her struggle on the floor of the stables. The tape I’d used to gag her was secure as well. Perhaps I’d wadded a little too much cloth into her mouth, judging by the way her cheeks were bulging, but she was quiet and that was the main thing. All she could manage was a muffled grunt as she struggled.

She was still wearing the shirt, jodhpurs and riding boots that she had on when I first met her earlier today but now her shirt was gaping open from her efforts in trying to wriggle free. I wasn’t complaining, it gave me an excellent view of her breasts.

It was good to be able to take the time to see how well my techniques worked. I’d been a bit worried about roping her ankles while she still had her boots on, for example. In fact it wasn’t an issue, there was no sign she was making any progress on loosening them. The same was true of the ropes around her chest and arms and the short length of rope that linked her wrists and ankles.

All in all she made an attractive package. The only down side was that in wrapping the tape around her head for the blindfold, I had plastered her long auburn hair to her head and that didn’t look too good.

She’d rolled over onto her front as she continued trying to free herself. Now she was trying to kick with her legs, hoping that she might jerk the ropes at her wrists free. She gave a whimper of pain and then a groan of frustration. She rolled back on to her side. Mud from the stable floor now streaked her white shirt.

“Good afternoon, Lady Angela.” She started at the sound of my voice. I reached down and plucked a piece of straw from where it had worked itself in her cleavage. A more animated set of grunts came from behind her gag. “Ah, splendid, I can see you recognise my voice.” She tried to twist around towards me but only came up against the unrelenting restraint of the ropes that bound her. She did, however, manage to pull her shirt open a little further, so improving the view as far as I was concerned.

“Now,” I said, “I was hoping that you would reconsider my offer for your splendid string of horses. However, since you evidently failed to recognise my determination to possess that which takes my fancy, I fear that direct action has been needed on my part. As a result the beasts in question will shortly be speeding towards their new home. I do hope you don’t mind but I took the opportunity also to acquire the collection of paintings by George Stubbs from your long gallery – I thought they would go so well in my own new establishment – a memento of a very pleasant afternoon. Good day to you.”

She was still grunting and wriggling as I left the stables, got up into the cab of the horse box and drove off.