Audrey is not surprised when she is caught inching her way toward a nearby coffee table where she spied Thackery's sleek black mobile. When his body towered over her, she simply slumped and shook  her head grunting defiantly through her gag, as if she were capable of forming the word passing through her head<i>. Drat.</i><br/><br/>How a man, as infamous and successful as the King of Spades could look and sound so inept was confusing. He had her dead to rights--so to speak--and she wasn't getting out of this. And yet, the things he said, and the games he played were ridiculous. If she is to be some sort of hostage, over some cheap painting, then he was almost certainly going about it the hard way.<br/><br/>Repeatedly, Audrey shakes her head and protests out loud as Thackery pushes her back to the ground. "Mmmph! Mmph-Mmph!" She doesn't care that she can't speak; its impossible to remain quiet.<br/><br/>Each new rope is applied to her with a seemingly unusual care and patience despite her ongoing struggles. Piece by piece she is rendered a little bit more helpless. Flustered, she tries to scream through her gag as Thackery pushes and tightens the rope between her legs, his fingers brushing against the inside of her legs several times while her hands are pulled to rest atop her behind. Oh goodness, she quickly learns to hate<i>that rope</i>.<br/><br/>The more she struggles the more<i>that</i>infernal binding presses, rubs, teases. Audrey is constantly reminded of<i>that rope's</i>presence, and as she is replaced into an even more restrictive position. Even as the pressure on her arms is released, she can hardly move, and yet when she is still, she is mightily uncomfortable. Every little struggle make it impossible for her to find any comfort. Or release. Or anything.<br/><br/>And damn it all... that stupid shoelace on her toes! Who does that?!<br/><br/>Smacking moisture back into her mouth, she is glad to be free of the gag. Audrey struggles against the ropes, and whimpers as that rope teases, and makes her struggle even more. Biting her lip, she tries to slow and even her breathing. And yet, it's getting more and more difficult to think.<br/><br/>"I'm not going to play any more games with you," she says, her tone coming out more petulant than she had intended. "Its not like it will make any difference anyway. Let your stupid little goons search all night for my car. You're never going to find it."<br/><br/>She doesn't admit it, of course, but Audrey is hoping that he tries to strip her. If he intends to remove her clothes, then he has to untie her--fewer ropes means a greater opportunity to gain the upper hand. Most importantly, he will have to remove the most frustrating rope of all.<br/><br/>Thackery chuckles, but says nothing to her. Instead, she sees him kneeling on the floor beside him. His eyes move slowing up and down her body, if she didn't know any better she would think that he was enjoying her suffering... and her struggling. How he could get such sick pleasure out of this was beyond her. And no! Audrey is not aroused by this; not even a little. That feeling between her legs? That heat? It's rope burn. Nothing else.<br/><br/>The man has he gall to smirk as he collects her socks from the floor, carefully folding them into a ball. His smirk widens as he holds the wad up against her lips, while commanding her to open her mouth.<br/><br/>Smirking back, Audrey rolls her eyes up and meets his mirthful gaze with a challenge of her own. Slowly she purses her lips, and shakes her head. Thackery chuckles, then and with his other hand, he strokes the top of her head gently, his fingers pushing back a few fly away strands of hair. His touch was eletric, her entire body bucking with welcome, and rejection. Audrey wants to get away from him, and yet if he touches her again....<br/><br/>Shaking her head, she refuses again to open her mouth, and his hand tightens around her makeshift ponytail, and where his touch was tender a moment ago, it hardens as he tugs firmly until her neck is strained. In that moment, she absolutely can. not. move. Her breath turns shallow, as she tries to keep her mouth closed. The battle of wills is lost quickly however, and the moment her lips open her socks are pushed past her teeth and into her mouth.<br/><br/>The cotton-blend fabric is dry in her mouth; coarser than the handkerchief that was used before. It tastes of mild detergent, and her mouth is wholly stuffed from cheek to cheek. Even as she grunts and protests, it is like screaming from the other end of a seashell still buried in the sand. Audrey can hardly make any sound.<br/><br/>She doesn't get a chance to try to push her own socks from her mouth, as the man clamps his hand firmly over her stretched lips. He holds her mouth even while she bucks and struggles as he reaches for the roll of tape. With his teeth, he peels back a length from the roll and quickly places it firmly over her mouth. As promised, he wraps the silvery adhesive around her head several times, covering her mouth completely before he tears it from the roll and securing it over her cheek.<br/><br/>Audrey's nostrils flare as her captor checks his handiwork, running his hands and fingers along the tape, making sure it is firm and holding. His touch turns gentle again, however, as he once again tends to her hair-- as if it matters where those wayward strands might go. Why does he even care?<br/><br/>She's just a means to an end; a bargaining tool. Right?