The sunlight streamed in through the walls of the old cabin, catching Erica full in the face.
She raised her head from its former position against her right shoulder and stretched as best she could against the leather cuffs that held her against the antique timber wall.
Her dark hair fell into her eyes and she blew at it irritably. Her muscles were sore.
Except for a quilt that must have been older than the cabin itself, she was naked.
Erica blinked a few times, getting her bearings. Her blue eyes, dark as sapphires, snapped with no little annoyance at her predicament.
"Some fucking vacation," she muttered under her breath.
The cabin door opened, letting in a cool breeze and enough sun to make her turn her head away.
"Well, I see you're awake," said her captor cheerfully. "Are you hungry?"
"I'm a little pissed off," she replied. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Kidnapping is a felony, y'know."
"If you'll stop running your mouth for a few minutes, I'll think about letting you out of those restraints," he replied smoothly, crossing over to the ancient cast-iron stove. "How do you like your eggs?"
Erica shut her mouth. Eggs? Eggs? She'd been kidnapped by a man who was obviously a raving lunatic, even if he was devastatingly handsome. The smell of breakfast wafted toward her and she fond that despite her best efforts, she was hungry.
"What time is it? How long have I been here?" she asked.
"Sausage?" her captor asked in reply. When she just stared, he continued. "It's seven in the morning, and you have been here for about six hours. Your arms must be getting sore, so I do plan to let you out for some exercise after you eat."
"I'm not hungry," Erica lied. "Let me out now and I won't tell the cops."
The man laughed, long and low and hinting of deep, dark places, and Erica was suddenly afraid.
She knew her captor, had thought she'd known him fairly well. One of the dangers of online acquaintances, she thought now. The meeting had been planned, even, and she had driven up to the mountains herself to see him. Just a friendly visit, maybe a little sex, maybe a lot of sex, certainly a lot of fun. That was the game plan. Having her car forced off the road, being stripped naked, blindfolded and cuffed to a wall was not.
"Nobody will miss you for a week or longer, darlin'," the man smiled. "And by then you may not want to leave." He brought a plate over and sat next to her on the floor. "Now, eat," he said gently, holding a bite of egg up to her lips.
"I could feed myself if you let me out," Erica said shakily. "Or are you going to kill me?"
"Baby, I would never want to kill you," the man said seriously, looking into her eyes. For a moment, she thought he looked sane, normal, like the Adam she thought she knew.
"I always take very good care of my belongings. I'm just giving you what you want."
Starving, and realizing it was useless to argue, Erica ate a little, and drank the strong French roast he held to her mouth, trying to think through her options.
This man, who she knew as Adam but now realized might be anyone, was intelligent and given to humor, but also to exploration of dark brain corners. They'd had many long online chats about her desire for submission and fear of it; about his need for control without the trappings of the "leather dom" type they so often met online. "Ninety IQ points, a whip and an attitude do not make a true dominant," she'd said, more than once, and he'd agreed. Now she knew why.
She realized he was perfectly serious. He wasn't planning to kill her; neither was he planning to let her go. He hadn't touched her sexually at all in the hours she'd been there. Erica's confusion began to clear, and she began to see what was in store for her in the coming week.
"What will you do with me, then?" she asked him, less fearful now.
"Whatever I want," Adam answered.
An hour later Erica found that the stream water was very, very cold.
Adam had walked her outside, holding her arm gently in his. The spring weather was still chilly, and she'd shivered, but quickly ducked into the small bathroom. He'd taken an old outhouse and plumbed it for her, adding flooring and fixtures, but there wasn't room for a shower.
"The stream will do for bathing," he'd said. "It's a bit cold, but the water here is so pure we bottle it and you pay a buck per eight ounces in the city."
He was right. The water was beautifully clear over the smoothly pebbled bottom. The mountain view was gorgeous, with a few wildflowers beginning to spring up on the banks, and as she looked up she could see the snow that melted into her bath.
Adam tossed her small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and even soap and a razor. He sat on the bank and watched her clean up, smiling some, even singing a bit.
Adam thought he'd been right to choose this one, and he saw already it was the right choice.
She could have run when he left her in the bathroom. She could be swimming downstream. She could, had she been really opposed, have popped open the razor and done herself in.
But no. Erica was shaving her legs in the stream. Adam suddenly felt a raging desire to take her, but calmed himself. "just a few more minutes," he whispered, "and her training will begin."
"Do see that you shave everything, please," Adam called over the water, and Erica looked up.
Of course he knew she shaved her entire body from the neck down, she'd sent him pictures of it.
But if he wanted to be sure she shaved everything, that meant.. oh.
Little fingers of panic, and desire, and heat ran up Erica's spine. She had to admit she found him incredibly sexy, or she'd never have agreed to come. Maybe fucking him would chill him out, and he'd tell her it was all just a D/s game, and they'd roll around in front of that gorgeous old fireplace for a few days, she thought, and obliged his request.
