The pale blue light of the computer monitor illuminated her face. Thick, black hair, from her mother's Chinese ancestry, was cut in a severe style. Subtle purple streaks were revealed as she moved. Her face was eye-catching. Her father's corn-fed American blood blended with her mother's, softening the Asian features, making her appear almost Polynesian. Her skin was light, but still with a hint of color; her eyes a sparkling emerald green.
Jessica logged off, having served countless raving maniacs with placid assurance. Verizon Wireless, for some reason, seemed to have more than its fair share of crazy people as customers. Still, for her, customer service was better given by phone than face to face.
She slid her chair away from the desk and stepped out of her cubicle into the common area of the phone room. She could hear her coworkers, most of whom hated her, trying to be nice. Everyone in her office resented her, both for her beauty and for her stats. She consistently topped everyone's numbers, always getting the largest bonuses.
The last month had been her hardest, however. Since the shocking and unexpected death of her fiancé, Dave, she had never felt more alone. He'd been driving home from college and lost control of his truck on a bridge. He was killed instantly.
Her family was far away, and what few friends she had were unable to console her. Increasingly, as the days ticked by, she isolated herself from the world. Except for her work, and the brief interactions required to live, she was alone.
Today was worse than usual. Last Valentine's Day Dave had surprised her, picking her up from work and whisking her off to an expensive hotel where they ordered room service. After eating, they soaked in the tub, then he'd tied her to the bed and fucked her senseless for hours. He teased her, tormented her, ravaged her, and made her beg him to let her cum. Dave, normally as vanilla as a Nilla cookie, even got a little kinky, spanking her full ass with his belt. The pain was exquisite, and sent her into a wash of orgasmic bliss that lasted for nearly 10 minutes.
Without even thinking about it, she'd made her way down to the parking lot, and to her white Jetta. She didn't even notice the coldness of the Michigan winter air. Fumbling with the keys, her hands shook as feelings of grief and loss welled up inside her, pouring out from her eyes. She finally managed to get the door open, and collapsed into the driver's seat.
She sat there for a while, with her door closed, simply crying. Starting the car, finally, she let it idle until the engine was hot, cranking up the heat to defrost the windows. Just as she was about to shift into first, she felt a cold metal blade at her neck.
"Do exactly as I say and you might live through this, Jessica." The voice was thin and reedy, but with a force that was unmistakable. Her mind was spinning. This was not some random attack. He knew her.
"Please mister," she gasped, "I don't have much money on me. Just take my purse and let me be!" The blade, cold and sharp, pressed a little harder against her throat.
"Listen, you little slut," he hissed. "Don't tell me what to do. I've got plans for you and nothing you say or do is going to change them!"
Fear rose up inside her, and she began to tremble uncontrollably. She remembered some stupid talk show that interviewed rape survivors and all of them said that staying calm was the key. She forced herself to take several deep breaths, wiped the tears from her eyes, and allowed herself to calm down.
"Ok. You're the boss," she said. "Tell me what you want me to do."
He gave her directions, taking her over the Detroit River to East End Park, just off Riverside Drive. It was late, and the park was deserted. She parked and, very carefully, they both exited the car. They walked slowly, he behind her with the knife still at her neck, toward the center of the park. There was a small structure, a maintenance shed she guessed, which proved to be their destination.
Inside, she was surprised to find that it was well lit, and quite warm. Her abductor had obviously made some preparations. There was an old mattress on the floor, several rolls of duct tape, and a few other things. Before she was able to get her bearings, she was forced to her knees and blindfolded. Although she had tried to see her captor's face in the rear view mirror, it was obscured by shadows. Even his hand, the one that held the knife, was covered with what felt like a latex glove.
Next, he taped her hands together. He worked slowly, methodically, as if he had all the time in the world. He began to cut away her clothing with some sort of scissor, starting with her black jeans. At first, she thought it was the knife, and a moment of panic rose up inside her. Despite the blindfold, and her commitment to being calm, tears began to well up as this dangerous and unknown man began to reveal her body to him. He pulled off her black Doc's and socks, made short work of her white silk button-down blouse, almost ripping it from her, and cut away her favorite lacy white bra. When she was completely naked, he taped her ankles and pushed her back onto the makeshift bed.
She knew that she was helpless, unable to escape, and knew also that this man intended to rape her and, maybe, worse. She lay there for what seemed a long time, beginning to wonder when he'd get started. Although it was hard to know exactly how much time had passed, it seemed like more than an hour had gone by before she heard him begin to move around again. He was muttering to himself...
"Dammit. A no-show! Well, I guess I'll have to start anyway."
She could hear him undress. Her heart was pounding. She could feel herself pressing deeper into the mattress, trying to get away, not knowing when or how the attack would begin. With no warning at all, he slapped her hard across her right breast. Her pussy began to moisten and, as the pain washed over her, she gasped in surprise.
"Son of a bitch! That hurt, you fucker!" She felt enraged that he'd found something that turned her on so much. She loved being spanked on the ass, something Dave was reluctantly willing to do but, no matter how she had begged him, he'd never slap her face or breasts.
He grabbed her bound wrists and hauled her up to her feet. He held her hands above her head and slipped something between them. She heard a chain, or pulley, and felt her body lifted until her toes just barely touched the ground. Her arms ached as she hung there, suspended and completely helpless.
