Possiblities

“Where are we?” Beth asked, looking at the battered garage and the run-down house.

“Just some place I thought might be fun,” Jeff answered, opening the trunk of the car and pulling out a duffel. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a plain white t-shirt and a tattered pair of jean-shorts. “Your costume.” He said, winking as he tossed the clothes at her.

Beth looked around nervously, then slipped her sun-dress up over her head. Jeff enjoyed the view of her pale skin in the dappled sunlight of old oaks. She slipped the T-shirt on, with a sardonic smile for his obvious appreciation of her body. She turned her back towards him so that he had a better view of her firm buttocks as she bent to pull the shorts up her long legs.

“Satisfied, you perv?”

Jeff chuckled. “Not yet, but if this works out as I intend, we both will be. Ready to play?”

Beth nodded and let the smile fade from her lips. Playtime was serious business.

Jeff's face changed even more dramatically, from charming to sinister in a flash. He reached behind his back and pulled a six inch hunting knife out of the waistband of his pants. “Good. You can start screaming then, if you like.”

Beth looked at the knife and then back to Jeff's face as he advanced slowly. His eyes locked onto hers and the predatory stare was hypnotizing. She began to back away from him towards the broken down old garage, seeking some shelter to hide her from this animal. She knew he was too close for her to simply turn and run... the instant that spinning around would take was too long. If she tried to break for it, he would have her.

She kept backing up awkwardly. She was too afraid to take her eyes off of him to see where she was going. Suddenly, she felt the press of a chain-link fence against her buttocks. As she tried to slide sideways along the fence, her feet tangled in a branch laying across the abandon driveway and she stumbled... and that was all the opening he needed.

With astounding agility, Jeff grabbed her outstretched arm just above the elbow and yanked hard, pulling her farther off balance. He used her momentum to spin her to face the fence that had so recently foiled her escape and levered her arm painfully up behind her back. She felt him step into her, his pelvis pressing against her lower back, his breath in her ear now.

“I thought you liked to play games, little girl,” he growled. “We're just getting started.”

Beth could feel her heart racing as the tip of Jeff's knife traced the line of her hip, the curve of her stomach and came to rest under her breast. She could feel the cold metal even through the shirt she wore. It made her ache.

“Under other circumstances, I'd take my time about this... but I have things to do.”

He jammed his knee against the arm he was holding behind her back. In an instant she heard a strange clicking noise and felt the press of cold metal encircling her wrist. Before she could even react to what was happening, Jeff pulled her arm up over her head and wove the handcuffs now attached to her wrist through the chain links. “Put your other arm up,” he growled into her ear.

She moved her arm slowly, reluctant to submit herself to him. She felt the pressure on the knife under her breast increase.

“Whatever you might be thinking, stop. You don't get to think now. Just do.”

She clasped her hands together over her head, face pressed uncomfortably into the chain links while Jeff latched the cuff around her other wrist. She let herself sag a bit, testing the strength of the fence. She was too close to the post for it to give much at all. All she succeeded in doing was making the cuffs dig into her flesh uncomfortably.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.

“Whatever I damn well please.”

“I'll scream!”

“I'm kind of counting on it... you noticed I haven't taped that pretty mouth shut.”

Beth spun around slightly to see what Jeff was doing, twisting against the cuffs. He was standing at the front of the car they had arrived in, spreading a towel across the hood and laying out various implements from his duffel in neat rows. Soon the car looked like the workbench of a medieval inquisitor. Clamps, clips and fittings in dozens of variations; needles arrayed neatly in there cellophane wrappings; a variety of artificial phallises and leather... an astonishing assortment of flails, floggers and spanking implements.

“You can't possibly think you're going to use all of those on me,” Beth gasped.

“Of course not, my dear... some of them are for me.”

So saying, Jeff selected a barber's straight razor and a leather strop from one side of the towel and began to walk slowly back towards where Beth was standing. With a calculating look into her wide eyes he applied the razor to the strop with an unhurried precision that did nothing to ease the tension building rapidly in her.

Jeff clipped the strop to his belt and then stepped in so that she could feel his groin pressed against her lower back. It was obvious that he was enjoying himself already. With the back of the razor, he traced a line down the back of her arm, starting at the cuffs encircling her wrist and following it gracefully to her elbow, then her shoulder, then her throat. She felt the urge to shiver, but she knew better. With a quick flip of his wrist it would be the hot blade itself kissing her skin, not the cool metal of its back.

Jeff's free hand made the same trip down her other arm to her neck and then clasped her throat... she could feel his thumb pressing firmly into her flesh, slowing the flow of blood to her brain, but accelerating her heart rate. The straight razor slipped inside the collar of the plain white t-shirt she was wearing and whispered through the cotton as if it were merely a strand of spiders web dangling in the summer breeze. The lack of blood flow was making her lightheaded.

Once her back was exposed to the open air, Jeff released his grip on her throat... she felt a momentary pulse of pain as the pressure surged back into her skull. She didn't bother to look as she heard his boots scuff through the gravel back to the hood of the car. She tried to gather her thoughts, but her mind was racing feverishly through the myriad of possibilities her makeshift dungeon opened her to.