Christine woke up unable to feel her arms. They had been tied above her head for the last 8 hours and she still had no idea where she was or who her captors were. She had a vague memory of being pulled into a van while walking to work that morning, and…nothing, a peculiar blank. The cold steel of the handcuffs grated against her sore wrists and she groaned in frustration. The fact that she was stripped down of all her clothing except her bra and black, lacy thong didn’t help her situation.
She heard a loud bump from the outside hallway, and the muscles in her back tensed, waiting for whoever had taken her, to show themselves. A tall man, with skin as black as ebony, walked in the room. He was wearing a tight black shirt, and loose fitting black jeans. He sat next to her on the bed and let one large index finger trail down her soft cheek, following the path of her newly shed tears.
“Baby, this is going to hurt…” he said with a lascivious grin. He dug his fingers into her shoulders leaving behind pale finger-shaped bruises.
