PAUL LED FAITH
through the store to get the next items on her list while Faith chatted amiably and Paul's mind reeled, attempting to make sense of what he read on the list; duct-tape, mousetraps, alligator clips.
"Mousetraps?" He asked, interrupting her. "What are mousetraps for?"
Faith stepped in front of and turned to face him before she replied.
"Here," she said, looking to see that they were alone in the aisle, then putting a fingertip on each of her nipples. "They'll go right here."
Paul's face paled as he formed a mental picture of her nipples pinched between the hard wire bails and coarse wooden bases of the rodent traps. In his mind he conjured up the setting for Faith's photo session.
A ramshackle steel bedstead with a tattered, stained mattress stood in an otherwise empty room. Large lights, some with oversized reflectors, some with diffuser panels, painted a circle of bright light in the otherwise dark room. A disorderly pile of items were jumbled on the mattress; ropes, rolls of tape, an assortment of wood and metal clamps, bars and chains, along with several menacing hand tools.
Faith sat upright on the bed, her back against the hard metal bedstead. Her arms were spread wide, and her wrists were bound to the metalwork by short lengths of the red braided rope they had selected. Her eyes were covered by a blindfold of crimson fabric and streaks of mascara ran from under the blindfold and down her cheeks. Her beautiful lips were parted wide, prised apart by a ring gag, with its leather thong tugging at the corners of her mouth as it stretched behind her head.
She sat there on the filthy mattress, exposed and immobilized by her bonds. Small, quiet sobs trembled through her slim young body.
She wore an emerald colored lace brasserie, which had been pulled down to expose her round white breasts. Her nipples, each one cruelly caught up in rodent traps, were an angry red color. Each of her pitiable sobs caused the mousetraps to swing back and forth from her abused nipples, adding to her distress.
