Chapter 1


copyright 1997 by Pat Powers

The answering machine clicked on.

"Hello," my voice said, sounding strangely bright and cheery under the circumstances. "You have reached 557-1717. I'm tied up and can't come to the phone right now, but if you'll leave a message at the beep, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

His voice came in on the phone.

"Hi, Kim," he said. "Guess you're out and about right now. Well, it's 7:05 and I'm in the airport. If all goes well, I'll see you around 8. It'll be great to see you. Bye."

I stared, agonizingly at the phone. Every nerve in my body urged me to pick up the phone and scream, "No! Stay away! NO! Call the cops!"

But I couldn't do a thing about it. I wore a gag. I was bound in an obscene parody of sexual submission. Ropes encircling my ankles ran back to the headboard behind me, pulling my legs wide apart and upward. A pair of leather cuffs linked my wrists behind my back. Two ropes ran from a ring set in the leather collar I wore to the foot of the bed, preventing me from shifting my body upward to escape or to relieve the strain of the position I was bound in.

The man who'd done this to me stood next to the dresser opposite the bed I lay on. On the dresser were a number of objects he'd placed there, one of which was a nasty-looking burnished steel handgun. Leaning against the wall was an aluminum baseball bat that looked, if anything, more ominous than the handgun.

He was naked, and he slapped a long, many bladed whip in his palm. My back still stung from the blows of that whip.

"Well, playtime's almost over, Kim," he said. "We must be ready when he arrives. I am really lookng forward to the chance to address the things he did the last time we met. But there's still some time left to deal with you -- to introduce you to your new life as my ceature."

He walked over to the edge of the bed, swinging the whip casually as he strode. I cringed in fear, but was not able to keep my eyes off those leather blades that were capable of rendering such pain.

My captor stood at the foot of the bed. He raised the whip. My whole body cringed and shrank, but I could not protect myself. I screamed into the gag when it landed, a shriek that was reduced to a muffled whimper. The pain made my whole body contort, but bound as I was, the only thing I could do was raise my hips into the air, as if begging for more.

Before I could lower my hips, the whip descended again, and I was almost grateful for the mind-numbing pain it produced. Because when all I could think about was the pain, I forgot about the gun and the baseball bat that waited by the dresser. Waiting for the man I loved, I was sure.

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