This chapter begins the morning after the long Saturday spent with beautiful Za'ana at the closed motel, which had been the perfect venue for her sadistic urges and shit-obsessed sex games.
I awoke at sunrise, my bladder full. Thin spandex straps surrounded my hips and occupied my ass crack; I remembered I was wearing thong panties. Taking in my surroundings, I was not in the dorm, but a shabby room in a doomed old motel. I had spent the night occasionally sitting on the toilet with the squirts, but mostly sleeping next to my beautiful, twisted girlfriend, after a long day of our messiest scat sex yet, and having my rectum and nuts abused. Despite a thorough scrubbing last night, I could still smell a dull scent of shit on my skin as I brought my hand up to my yawing face. Dim light filled the room. This was not the one in which we had wallowed in excrement for hours; this was a clean room nearby I made up with sheets a blanket last night. I noticed Za'ana was not in bed, and the bathroom was lit but silent. I thought she had gone out for a run, but heard the rumble of an engine idling outside. Her makeup and belongings were still spread all over the dresser, so she wasn't packed to leave. Hopefully she was going for coffee.
I limped into the bathroom, and pissed into the rust stained, ancient beige toilet, taking the opportunity to temporarily free my sore balls from the tight lacy yellow triangle that had compressed them all night. Suddenly I realized the idling engine was a diesel, and therefore not her truck or mine. Quickly I looked out the window as the fan from the heater blew its stale air across my bare legs.
Sitting askew in a parking space, headlights on, driver's side and rear doors open, was a white cargo van. It looked like one I had seen before, the horrible morning I was accosted by smug Special Agent Brewster and her large partner.
Panicking, I looked for Za'ana's holster and gun, but they were missing, as was her taser. I tossed the panties and jumped into my pair of sweats, shoes, grabbed a hoodie and quietly opened the door. The moon was still visible in the sky as I crept down the cracked concrete walk. Looking down the building, the lights were on in the room we had fucked in the previous day, the site of Za'ana's bucket-of-intestinal-chili-palooza. I had spent over two hours in that room last night wiping dried shit off the nightstand, walls and yes, the ceiling, and dragging the ruined area rug and lampshade to the dumpster across the parking lot. The worn mattresses and box springs, which had hosted hundreds of nights of fat, masturbating truckers or horny teenage fucking, were also taken to their final resting place in the dumpster, soaked after being hosed down by the pool to remove as much of the vomit, urine and fecal stench as possible. Dragging the dripping wet mattresses solo was quite a workout, and I was stiff and sore from that as well as the day's sadistic sex.
My pulse raced as I stepped quietly up to the room, hoping that Constance and her giant bald partner hadn't arrested or hurt my girlfriend. I wasn't sure what help I could be unarmed or even armed, but had to peek inside. The curtains, also splattered with excrement, had been removed, leaving nothing to cover the large, dirty window. The door was halfway open and I walked in, amazed at what was taking place. I felt like I had walked into a low budget crime movie.
In the room, bizarrely lit by the over headlight and the idling van' headlights, was Constance, arms and legs spread, on the bare, worn linoleum floor, tied face up by multiple loops at the wrists and ankles, to the corners of the vacant, square metal bed frame. Za'ana, wearing a black running outfit and jacket, stood over her, holding the nearly depleted spool of lamp cord and the cutting pliers. Multiple pieces of clipped plastic cable ties were scattered around.
Constance was dressed, well almost, in jeans, a black t-shirt and dark blue windbreaker. For some reason her pants were only as high as her upper thighs and unzipped, , revealing a pair of colorful, flower patterned panties. I figured it was not a good idea to stare, since my girlfriend was in the room, weapons lying on the dresser.
Both of Constance's sneakers had been removed and the socks stuffed in her mouth. Her bare feet had high arches and her stubby toes were held tightly together due to the cool air. When she saw me she started yelling something undecipherable into the socks. Her face was devoid of makeup and was reddened with anger. Dark crescents lurked under her blue eyes. Even in this compromised position, she still looked pretty good, but seeing her in person again reminded me of how pissed off I was that she knew about my secret, submissive, perverted life. My attention turned to my approaching girlfriend, who smiled and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.
"Good morning sweetie!" Za'ana, dressed in a black and red running outfit, said cheerfully and loudly over the noise of the idling truck. "Did you sleep well? I went for a run and noticed a white van on a side road with New Jer-zee license plates a few digits away from several other cars I've seen following me the last few weeks. All owned by the same agency. Did they really think I wouldn't notice?" The brunette shook her head and looked down at the blonde captive. "So I went back for my gun and waited in the woods a few minutes and out steps this Malibu Barbie," she said, referring to Constance's straight platinum blonde hair and suntan, just like the doll. "She squatted to pee, and taser darts to her white derriere dropped her like a sack of potatoes. I threw her in the back of her truck and brought her here for a little chat." My girlfriend's expression then changed from a smirk to a serious one. "I'm almost ready to close the deal and this bitch is going to fuck up everything. If she won't cooperate, we can throw her body into that deep hole at the gas station." Za'ana gestured toward the derelict white building bordering the motel. "We need to remove her clothes. The fresh air will sharpen her memory and they will have to rely on DNA for identification, if they ever happen to find the corpse."
Not happy at being referred to as a corpse, the blonde's blue eyes widened as Za'ana pulled out a small knife and bent down. Constance bucked her hips and flailed her arms wildly, yanking on the white lamp cord restraints and yelling into the socks that filled her palate. The metal bed frame rattled loudly.
Still amazed, I watched as the exotic brunette reached down and began slicing the spastic, wailing blonde's clothes off, slitting then ripping the length of her jacket sleeves. Both my slight sympathy for Constance and perverse enjoyment of her involuntary stripping were interrupted as my girlfriend spoke to me without looking up. She gestured to her keys on the dresser.
"Be a dear and use the master key. Pull a few shower curtains down for the floor in here to catch the splatters, and nail one to this wall." Za'ana said and pointed. "This could become messy. And cut that stinking fucking van off!" she said, referring to the diesel exhaust fumes wafting into the cold room from the idling truck.
As I walked over to the van and hopped into the driver's seat, I knew that normally I would have been totally shocked and scared as hell at what my lover was saying and threatening to do. But, I knew she was bluffing to scare her captive. The previous day at the hoagie shop, still suspecting the appearance of the pretty blonde agent was a set up by Za'ana to test my loyalty, I risked exposure and revealed everything. Paranoid of listening devices in our cars, or someone following us, I barged into the ladies' restroom with my girlfriend, and grabbed her purse while she stood dumbfounded. I found a lipstick and scribbled a message on the mirror: 'TREAS DEPT AGENTS AFTER U'. She replied by drawing a heart and kissing me, then wiped the mirror clean. We said nothing more about it until on the drive back to the motel. We pulled up a forested hunting access road and parked, and both jogged into the woods, where I gave the smiling brunette beauty all the details of my meeting with extortionist Agent Brewster and her distracting nipples. Za'ana lovingly stroked the side of my face as she swore me to secrecy and told me what was supposed to transpire. As a reward I received her tongue in my ear and a long, deep kiss with lots of spit, all while allowed to massage her wonderful ass with both hands inside her pants.
I was sure my girl friend had gone out this morning intentionally to see if Constance and her partner were in our proximity and listening in. Luckily he didn't seem to be around. I wasn't sure what Za'ana hoped to gain by essentially kidnapping the blonde woman, other than harassing her. So far my girl was pretending she discovered Constance on her own, to protect me.
By the time I returned to the room, dragging four mildew-edged white shower curtains, Za'ana had stripped Constance down to her yellow halter sports bra and panties. The captive blonde hadn't planned on being seen undressed anytime soon, as her inner thighs and armpits had a little stubble. Shredded clothes were now scattered about. I spread the shower curtains around like painter's drop cloths on the worn, orange and cream-colored, checkered pattern linoleum tile that reminded me of my grandmother's kitchen. Za'ana lifted the angry blonde agent's body long enough for me to slide the vinyl, stained and ripped in places, beneath her.
Once I was done, I dashed over to the maintenance room to find some nails to tack one to the wall. The socks had evidently become absent from Constance's mouth as she began screaming, which I could hear out the open door two rooms away.
