Joe Adams paced his living room. His girlfriend, Sharae Stevens, was now officially missing. The police had just left after asking him numerous questions. When did he last talk to Sharae? Did they have a fight? Where was he last night? What was he doing? Who was he with? Blah, blah, blah. It was clear they suspected him.
He answered nervously, not because he had anything to hide, but because he secretly wished he'd been the one to kidnap her. No one knew of his hidden fantasies that included abducting women and forcing them to submit.
Now his fantasies were about to become a reality. If only the cops knew how close to the truth they were. He had rented a house in the suburbs and remodeled the basement to suit his needs. He had purchased coils of rope, rolls of tape, and boxes of bondage toys. All because he had finally ventured into a fetish club several weeks before. By a chance meeting he'd made a contact to buy a slave. He'd met with the guy earlier that day and made arrangements to view the merchandise later that same evening.
Once he had his slave, he intended to break up with Sharae. Miss Prim and Proper Sharae would never understand his desires. She'd probably burst into hysterical tears at the sight of a pair of handcuffs. No, Sharae would never be his bondage pet.
As he mused, his gaze came upon an old framed photograph on the fireplace mantle. It was a group shot of his brother and sister-in-law, and Joe with his ex-girlfriend, Angela Carlisle. Since breaking up at Club 27 long ago, he hadn't seen Angela at all, and wondered idly where she was hiding herself these days. Sometimes he missed the spunky redhead, more often than he would admit.
The phone rang and Joe sighed as he picked it up. “What?"
The female voice on the other end laughed. “Nice talking to you, too, Joe."
He sighed. It was his slutty sister-in-law, Megan, who always flirted with Joe behind her husband's back. She made no secret of the fact she wanted him. And Joe wouldn't mind taking her up on it but didn't out of respect for his brother, Jon. “How are you, Megan?"
“Fine. Wanna come over? I'm naked,” she purred.
“Better put some clothes on. You might catch a chill."
She sighed heavily. He could just imagine her face. “Anyway, Jon wants you to come over tonight. Something about that football crap you guys watch. Bring Sharae so we can gossip about you guys."
“Sorry, but we're both busy. Gotta go,” he snapped. He hung up before she could say another word. He wouldn't mind tying Megan up tight and shipping her off to Antarctica. His brother would be better off without her.
When Melissa saw Preston and Angel, her heart seemed to stop beating. Preston held a gun, trained on her forehead. The fury in his eyes was scary. It didn't help that there was a bloody film over his left eye, making his glare seem deathly. She shuddered as she realized she had been the one to inflict those wounds on both of them.
The next 15 minutes seemed a blur. Angel charged and slapped her so hard, she spun around. Melissa didn't know if Preston would actually use that gun, but she had no intention of finding out. She took the slap and several more from the surprisingly strong slave girl. Sharae cowered in the corner.
Angel bound Melissa's arms behind her back. It was only then that Preston approached her. He grabbed her by the hair. “I have to admit, I underestimated your resourcefulness,” he snarled. “I won't make that mistake again. Fortunately, you forgot to secure my girl. She roused herself, and came to my aid.” He smiled at Angel. Apparently all was forgiven as far as she was concerned.
In quick succession, Melissa's sight was taken away with a thickly padded leather blindfold and her mouth filled with another huge, jaw-stretching ball-gag. She was led roughly back through the house. From the moans she heard, she knew Sharae was getting similar treatment.
They forced her to sit on what felt like a high barstool. Ropes and straps quickly tightened all over her body. Her left leg was bent back and tied to one of the legs of the stool. Her right leg was pulled straight out, lifted high, and somehow strapped in place. Then her arms were pulled straight back and upward, forcing her to bend over.
More ropes circled her waist and thighs, securing her to the stool. She groaned as the now familiar bite of clamps dug into her hardened nipples. To top it all off, a vibrator was shoved into her cunt and held in place by more tight ropes. She waited for them to turn the vibrator on, but they didn't.
At last, they seemed to be done binding her. She sat uncomfortably stretched, moaning softly. Her moans were matched by those of Sharae, no doubt bound in a similar awkward position. In the total blackness of the blindfold, she could “feel” her tormentors standing close by, watching her. It seemed as if they were waiting for something.
She tried to shift her weight to find a more comfortable position. As she did, she pulled her outstretched leg down sharply. Immediately, she heard a squeal from Sharae, and along with the squeal, the vibrator suddenly switched on, buzzing furiously inside her.
Sensing something was wrong, Melissa sat perfectly still again. She could hear Preston chuckling and Angel giggling. As she settled down, the vibrator turned off.
She heard Angel's voice. “Shall I tell them, Master?"
“Sure,” he said. “But nothing specific. Let them figure out the connections themselves."
Still giggling, Angel addressed the bound women. “You two are connected,” she laughed. “When one of you moves, it… does something to the other."
As if to demonstrate the point, Melissa heard Sharae grunt and shift. The result was a hard tug at her own nipple clamps. Melissa groaned and pulled her arms down instinctively. As she did, she heard the buzzing of another vibrator and the muffled complaint of her companion.
So that's their game, thought Melissa. We punish each other whenever we move. And we can't help moving because of the torturous bondage they've put us in!