I can hear strange faint noises coming from somewhere off in the distance. I try to force myself awake, but I feel extremely sluggish and my eyes protest when I try to open them. I try to roll over but, a sharp pinch cuts at my wrists sending pain down my arms. Becoming a little more alert, I try to stretch out again and pull my arms away from whatever they may be tangled up in, but the movement burns, making me wince. My eyelids are super heavy, more heavy than normal, and it takes all of my effort to make them open.
When I’m finally able to get them to open, and the film coating my soar eyeballs sheds away, I’m able to turn my head to see what keeps biting at my wrists. I’m not sure if it hits me right away, but when I look at one arm and then the next, it kicks in. Fear shoots through my entire body when I realize my arms are tethered to opposite bed posts. No one knows what real fear is until they wake up like this.
My neck aches as I try to lift my head to try to assess my surroundings. It becomes very apparent instantly, that I have no clue where I am. I can’t help but panic and begin to hyperventilate as the memories from those painful years trapped by Eric fill my head. I start pulling at my restraints and yelling loudly, but the harder I pull trying to free my arms the tighter the straps wrapped around my wrists seem to get. Now my wrists are burning.
How did he find me? This can’t be happening again. I know I need to calm down and try to get my bearings, but being put back into this situation is horrifying, and I don’t think I’ll be able to survive this again. I try to kick my legs just out of pure panic, but I realize they are tied off too. I writhe and squirm at any slight chance or possibility that I might be able to free one of my hands, but it’s no use. I’m trapped. I breathe in deeply and watch as the ceiling and walls grow smaller and smaller … moving in on me. Everything goes black, and my body goes limp.
I’m so exhausted when I wake again. I feel like I’ve done a thirty-six hour shift with every muscle in my body protesting in agony. My mind is so groggy and fuzzy and the burning pain in my arms and legs from trying to pull myself free is throbbing like hell. I know that I can’t just give up though, so I start thrashing around again, trying to free at least one of my arms. The pain is unbearable. The rope cuts and pulls at my wrists and ankles every time I move. I’m not sure how much flesh I have peeled away, but I know in the back of my mind I can’t quit trying to get loose.
It seems to be useless, at least for the moment. My body is just too tired. I finally just let go, and stop trying to fight, my arms hang from each bed post loosely, stretching and pulling at my shoulders, If I move my shoulders any more, I fear they’ll be pulled right out of the socket –dislocating them, and my hips feel the same tension, being pulled across the massive bed.
My head spins trying to remember … How the hell did I get here? My first instincts tell me that Eric is behind this. He is out roaming around free and he has found out I’m here visiting Seth, in San Diego. Now he’s come here with a vengeance to finish off what he started.
I’ll never forget his threats from that day in the court room as they echoed through the room, “WHEN I GET OUT OF PRISON TREVA, I’LL COME FOR YOU! I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN, AND THE TIME I HAD YOU CAGED UP, WILL HAVE BEEN LIKE A VACATION RETREAT COMPARED TO WHAT I’LL DO TO YOU!”
The tears start pouring over from my eyes, flowing down my cheeks in a steady stream. The really fucked up part of it all is that I thought I was in love with him. How that twisted man was able to make me think that what he was doing to me was love makes me sick.
Footsteps catch my attention and I try to hold back my tears. Whoever is behind that door, I don’t want to show them any weakness. I try to turn my head into the pillow and wipe the stray tears from my cheeks. I watch the handle of the door across the room, but it doesn’t twist. I hold my breath trying to alleviate any sounds so I can listen to what might be outside the door. Still nothing, I can’t hear anything and the door is not opening. I know I had heard footsteps. Is my captor just tormenting me? Minutes go by without any sounds. Maybe I was imagining what I had heard before.
I let my eyes wander from the door knob and really start to look at the room where I am now trapped in. I guess I was in too much of a panic before that I hadn’t noticed how soft the room is. It’s extremely feminine. The dresser directly at the end of the bed has a mirror with scarves of different colors hanging on it. There is one of those fancy jewelry boxes that stand on the floor next to the dresser, and the walls are a mute almond with the exception of one, an accent wall that is a dark mauve. The curtains are brown and mauve, way too much girly stuff to be a man’s room. It appears to be a regular room too, not a hotel room. Why would Eric bring me to a residential area where a woman obviously lives?
Now I am even more confused. I am tied up to a woman’s bed though, that I am sure of. Maybe he has a partner now. My mind is considering all sorts of scenarios when I hear the door knob jiggle. My heart thuds as my eyes pop up to the door, waiting to see who has captured me.
I’m holding my breath in fear. I’m so afraid that it makes me tremble as I watch the door slowly open. I’m not sure if this will be my last day alive and I am beyond terrified. I say a little prayer under my breath hoping maybe there is a god out there that might help rescue me, or give me mercy and have my life end quickly. The door widens and the last person on the face of the earth I had expected stands in the opening of the doorway. She stands there, her perfect body with every black hair in place—her white linen top, and her bright red pencil skirt without a single wrinkle. She has a makeshift smile that shows her perfectly straight white teeth.
“Amy,” her name slips from my mouth.
Her heels click on the floor as she walks toward the bed. I can’t see what color they are because I can’t lift my head high enough to see, but I figure they are black just like her soul.
“And how is my guest-of-honor doing this morning? Well more like afternoon …”
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” I yell at her.
“Oh come on, now that’s not very good behavior. You should treat your host a little nicer.”
Her snide voice sends goose bumps over my skin. Whatever Amy has planned can’t be good. I close my eyes and something prickles at the back of my brain like I should remember. A vague dark room with a bar and metal barstools comes to mind, but nothing else.
“Fine … What do you want, Amy?” I say through gritted teeth much quieter.
“See, you can be civilized. I wasn’t quite sure if it was in you or not since you were probably raised in a barn.” She stares down at me with her brown eyes and grabs a hold of one of the restraints checking to see if it is still tight. I wince from the burn.
It takes everything to hold my tongue at the ridiculous barn comment. She leans over me and I get a whiff of her overpowering old lady perfume and almost gag as she tugs on the other restraint.
“You’re not going to get away with this, Amy.”
“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk Treva, you are being a rude guest again. From the look of things I would guess that you are probably not in the best position to be threatening me.”
“I’m not threatening you, just stating a fact.”
Before I even see it coming, she slaps me hard across my face leaving a stinging pain in its wake.
“Ever since the first time I saw you, I knew you would be trouble. Well … I’m not going to let a stupid little redneck girl come into my world and disrupt everything! I’m tired of things getting in the way of my goals; I’ve been taking some lessons and I know how to get what I want.”’
“Lessons? Here’s one for you … GET A CLUE. This is not going to end the way you think it is.” I spit. And again she slaps my face. I feel my lip split when her hand connects with my face, but she has no clue that I’ve endured much worse.
“We’ll see!” she says. Then I see her turn, and my ears ring listening to the clickety clack of her shoes as she leaves the room.
Why on earth would Amy want to kidnap me? This whole thing is not what I had expected in a million years. I know women can be dangerous creatures, even more so than men, so I need to have my guard up. Obviously, I have over stepped some boundary with her. OH SHIT! … DUH … Ronin Hollister … that was her boundary.
Only about ten minutes pass by when the door flings open startling me.
“Now to see what is so special about you. Why does he want you? What do you have that I don’t? You must have a delectable pussy to have Ronin Hollister begging for more.”
Amy walks to the side of the bed and takes a pair of scissors out from behind her back. I start to shake not knowing what her intentions are with the scissors. She dramatically holds them above my face, circling them around my lips. She presses the blades so the cold metal touches my lip, and it sends shivers down my spine. My worst fears are coming to a head; she’s going to mutilate me. The sick twisted witch is going to cut me up. I close my eyes and gasp for air, not sure if I can handle that sort of pain or not. I wish she would just kill me and get it over.
I hear her laugh, and then I feel her tugging at my sundress. I open my eyes and watch as she slides the sharp metal scissors, starting at my sternum and gliding down my sundress cutting the material with ease. Once she has cut all the way down the soft cotton, slicing it into two pieces, she comes back up to the head of the bed and cuts the two small straps over my shoulders. She rips my mangled dress out from underneath me and throws it on the floor. I’m now only in my bra and panties tied to Amy’s bed.
My bra is strapless and has a clasp in the front and she unsnaps it releasing my breasts. She takes one of her claws and pushes on my round breast. “Are these real?”
“DON’T TOUCH ME!”I yell.
She squeezes my breast while ignoring what I say, “they have to be fake they’re too perfect.” She grabs my nipple between her finger and her thumb and rolls it a little too aggressively.
I start humming to myself, “Mary had a Little Lamb” a technique I used a lot when Eric was torturing me, trying to take myself away from the horrid tortures he put me through—anything to put my mind in some faraway place.
I hum louder when I feel the cold metal gliding over my stomach near my belly button, getting lower and lower toward my pelvic bone. The scissors slip under my panties and I hear snip, snip against the cloth. I feel my panties slide off of my hips and then a tug between my ass cheeks as Amy rips them away.
“Look at those hips! Who would ever find those attractive? And have you ever heard the term ‘thunder thighs’ before?” I open my eyes and see her shaking her head in disapproval to my curvy hips and thighs.
I know that I’m curvy, and I also know that I am not fat. Based on the way she is judging me, you’d think I am as fat as a whale. I’m a little put out by her comment—having a lesser opinion of myself than I have in the past. My confidence is so low, and being attacked verbally by a very attractive woman—one that’s attractive and crazy—makes me feel a little puny. I take a deep breath in and try to remind myself that I don’t care what she says, and I shouldn’t let what she says bother me. I am not on this earth to please Amy.
I’m sprawled out wide and naked displayed on the bed. I watch her closely, afraid of what she is planning to do to me. Her heels click along the floor as she paces around the bed like a predator eying its’ prey. My breath quickens and my heart feels like it’s beating a thousand times per minute. I don’t want to show her any fear, or that I am terrified. A scorned woman is probably the loosest cannon ball possible.
Amy stops at the end of the bed and smiles a wicked grin. I can’t see very well being tied down, but I notice her hands are behind her back like she’s hiding something. She leans over and I see a flash of black before I hear a snap. My eyes brim with tears when the pain registers in my brain. She just hit my tits, what the fuck. I try to raise my head and I see her raise her arm to smack down again. The black thing that flashes, I notice is a little hard whip that has leather strands hanging from the handle. It stings and sends ripples of pain over my breasts as she smacks me again. Amy brings up the little hand whip and with another hard thrust … she smacks me again. I scream as loud as I possibly can which is probably a mistake.
“That’s it, Treva scream! I want to hear you scream over and over again!” She says wickedly.
When she smacks me again, I push my lips together trying not to let out a single sound … refusing to give her any satisfaction.
She seems to get aggravated that I’m squeezing my lips tightly—trying not to make any sounds. She changes her tactics. The next time the black whip like thing with the little leather strands comes down to hit me, it strikes my clit. I buck and let out an, “Aah.” Her eyebrows raise, and her once sexy thin lips twist into the most distorted wicked grin I have ever seen. Amy raises her hand with a new found aggression and she is relentless … blow after blow between my legs. My throbbing clit hurts like hell. I want to close my legs and stop the brutal attack, but being tethered down keeps me positioned right where she wants me. I can’t do anything; she’s in complete control. Yet, I refuse to let her break my spirit. Tears fill my eyes, and I try desperately to hold them back.
“MMM-good girl, Treva!”
Damn you – “Fuck off. Amy!”
I see her stroll over and open a dresser drawer. She grabs a long stick that looks like ... Yep, a riding crop, and wait, what is that other thing? Amy comes alongside the bed and leans over me. I try to raise my head, to bite her arm, but she is just out of reach.
“Uh, uh, uh. Naughty, naughty.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell.
Amy reaches down, and I feel her hand on my breast—cupping it and massaging it. Her fingers glide to my nipples, and she rolls them between her thumb and her forefinger. Again, I try to resist, but the restraints dig into my arms. My movement is limited, and I can’t get loose.
“The more you squirm about, the more you turn me on Treva, so please give me a fight!”
“You’re fucking sick!” I spit in her face.
She uses her hand to wipe away my saliva, and then grabs my breasts more aggressively. A sharp pain goes through both nipples, and I almost pass out. She stands up straight and slowly walks to the foot of the bed. I look down at my breasts. She has two metal clamps attached to my nipples. The pain is almost unbearable. When I feel like the clamps are going to bite the end of my nipples off, she strikes me again between my legs … right on my clit.
Amy is now hitting me with the leather crop. Thwap … I hear the thud as she hits me again, and the sensation sends sharp, tingling spikes up my belly. I hear the crop go swish every time she strikes me. I clench my teeth, waiting for the next blow. SMACK.
I feel my pussy getting wetter with every blow and I want to scream from the defiance. My body is acting like my enemy. I don’t want her to get anything out of torturing me like this. Amy’s hand is between my legs and I feel her finger slide slowly across my folds.
“Why, Treva, you’re so wet. Is that for me?”
I try to buck up, but I think she takes it as an invitation rather than to get the fuck away.
Amy presses her mouth against my stimulated cunt, and there is nothing I can do but scream. The more I scream, the louder Amy’s groans … sticking her tongue in and out of my pussy. I try so hard to take my mind to a far off place—anywhere to get away from here—but I can still feel her hot wet mouth against me.
She circles her thumb over my clit and sucks on my swollen lips, pulling them into her mouth and grazing me with her teeth. My body hums at the pleasurable feeling, but I hope that my feelings are false. I don’t want her to know that what she’s doing makes me feel good.
I try to focus and take a deep breath in. I can’t give this psycho woman any ideas. I have to fight my urge to moan. I am not her plaything. I seal my lips tighter and try to remember the wonderful days I had spent here with Ronin. Clearing my head and picturing his beautiful body. Thinking about him helps me relax a little, and for a few moments, I forget about what Amy is doing to me.
Thank god it seems to work. I have calmed down and I’m completely still lying on the bed … the room is quiet. Amy gets up and stands near the side of the bed glowering down at me.
“This isn’t over.” She hisses.
Once I am alone. I start to cry. I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here … I cry so hard that my body shakes. I lay splayed out naked in this cold room feeling absolutely broken. I hate Helena, but all I want is to be back there with my best friend—I would feel safe in the comfort of my home.
Eric had me locked up like an animal for two years before I was able to escape. I’m not sure I’ll be able to last another day going through this again. The uncontrollable tears stream down my cheeks, and I feel like I’m back where I used to be … that hell hole that Eric had me in.
My bladder aches with pressure and I’m not sure I even have it in me to yell to warn Amy. I’m so beyond broken, no strength, or energy to fight, but I don’t know if I want to lie in my own urine. I think I still have enough dignity deep inside somewhere to not get that far ... again.
“AMY!” I yell. “Unless you want me to piss your expensive bed you better get in here.”
I listen quietly for a moment and I hear the sound of footsteps. Amy swings the bedroom door open hard. “My guest needs to use the restroom does she? Well, I wouldn’t want to be inhospitable—let me help you.”
Before Amy reaches for the restraints, she puts a strange looking collar with a square box on it around my neck. When I hear a click, I see her grin. First, she unhooks my left wrist, not letting it go. She grabs a very firm hold on me and brings my arm over to my other arm twisting my body. Somehow she clamps my left restraint to the right one before she unhooks me from the bedpost. My arms are now linked together like handcuffs. I try to use my stomach muscles to pull myself up into a sitting position, but I am so weak. I just lay back on the bed as she releases my holds on my ankles.
My right leg falls limply to the bed and my body relaxes, now that it’s free.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I shakily say.
“Why? You ask.” She cackles an awful high-pitched noise. “I’ve been in love with Ronin for nine years. I’ve done everything and anything for him. He is supposed to be with me … it all makes sense.” She shakes her head in confusion. “And then you! You come along all naïve. I mean, come on. Look at you! No class, plain, obviously poor, you’re not worth taking a second look at. Yet he keeps giving it to you. So, what the hell do you have that I don’t?”
“I don’t know, Amy.” I’ve had that same question bouncing around in my head. Why would Ronin Hollister be interested in me? I’m not rich. I don’t travel those circles. I’m not classy. I’d rather wear jeans and a T-shirt over a dress any day. I’m so plain.” I let out a deep sigh.
“None of it makes sense. Amy, I am exactly all of those things you said and Ronin shouldn’t want me.” Another tear escapes from my eye and slides down my cheek.
“Please, Amy just let me go?” I try to plead.
“LET YOU GO? HAH! Treva you’re my test subject. I have a lot more tests that need to be done. I need to know why.” Her voice is growing louder and edgier and I know I shouldn’t push her anymore.
“COME ON, GET UP!”
She brings me to my feet and my knees buckle. Amy has a tight grip on my elbow trying to hold me up and a split-second decision races through me. I find my strength in my legs. I push up and lock my knees in place as I stand straight and pull my elbow free and spin around. I lift my arm and hit her smack in the jaw with my elbow, her head flies back and I bolt for the door. I round the corner as fast as I can, hearing her shoes beat across her wood floor behind me. I can see the front door and I reach my hand up when a jolt of electricity cripples me in the most excruciating pain I have ever felt. I drop to the floor flopping around like a fish out of water.
The burning pain eases and I see Amy hovering above me with her bright red pencil skirt and her button up white blouse … and yes, with a grin on her face like Satan. She holds up a little remote for me to see, “shock collar”. She leans back down and extends her hand. I don’t grab it right away—I’m afraid because she just shocked the hell out of me. I’m still trying to catch my breath when I notice a pair of men’s shoes behind her. My eyes snake up from the brown shoes over a pair of blue jeans and a green T-shirt. My heart stops when I see the evil smirk on Eric’s face.
Treva and Ronin’s Story continues in, Broken Again; Available July 15th 2016
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, RJ HeatonWrite a Review