Liz's Abduction: a Love Story

Day One

Liz hurried down the rain-soaked street, her quick steps echoing through the empty night. Her car was still several blocks ahead – she hadn't realized how far away she had parked when meeting the other girls from the bank for drinks. It had gotten late without her realizing it, and the Seattle streets were very dark and silent.

Glass crunched under her heels and she looked up. The streetlight had been broken out above her. Fishing the keys out of her purse and holding them in her hand, she began to walk more briskly. The hair on her neck tingled as she felt a presence, but she was afraid to turn and look. A line of parked cars on her left and brick buildings to her right, she approached the dark intersection, marked only by a flashing red light. Weird eerie shadows danced in the corners of her vision, and she could taste sour fear at the back of her tongue.

She passed a dark van, windows tinted almost black, and she sensed someone behind her. It happened with terrifying swiftness. The man lifted her off her feet just as the van door opened on her left; very strong, he handled her easily. A hand covered her mouth before the scream could form. Her car keys jangled as they hit the ground. The man spun her into the opened door just as she began to struggle and kick. His arm was a band of iron across her body. Other hands grabbed her from inside the van and pinned her to the floor.

Holding her face down against the carpet the man straddled her, his hand clenched in her hair. Her arms were locked to her side. She tried to struggle or squirm loose but he overpowered her, holding her helpless. It was hard to even breathe. More hands held her ankles together as she tried to kick free. The door slammed loudly and the van began moving.

Before she could cry out or even draw a breath the man on top of her pulled her head up and pressed a foul-smelling cloth against her mouth and nose. The fumes made her want to gag, and she fought not to breathe. The man continued to hold the cloth tightly against her mouth. She bucked frantically, pinned beneath his weight. The pressure of the rag on her face was unyielding; she was completely helpless. Liz tried to twist her head but was held firmly in place.

Finally, the pressure in her chest mounting, her lungs begging for air, she was forced to draw a deep, ragged breath. The nauseous fumes swirled through her head and she fought the wave of blackness. The man continued to hold the cloth over her face, his grip uncompromising. Another breath and she felt herself go completely limp, she was slipping over the edge into blackness, she couldn't fight it any longer….

Liz struggled for consciousness, swimming from a great depth trying to reach the surface. As she shifted position, she realized she was completely naked; there was a rough surface along her back and legs, and something cold about her right ankle.

With sudden clarity she remembered the van, and the men, and she snapped awake to pitch-blackness. Her head throbbed with a dull ache. Moving her hands, she could tell she was lying on a small bed with a metal frame, almost a cot, with a coarse blanket thrown over her. The mattress was thin and lumpy.

There was a metallic noise as she sat up in bed, clutching the blanket around her. Reaching down, she felt a steel shackle around her right ankle. Following the chain with her fingers, she could tell it was locked to the frame of the bed with a small padlock.

Her eyes strained for even the slightest bit of light. Feeling with her hands, she crawled off the bed onto the floor. The chain was only about two feet long, so her freedom was quite limited. She tried to move the bed but it wouldn't budge. It had been bolted to the floor. She tried turning two of the bolts with her small fingers but they had been tightened with a wrench; it was impossible to loosen them.

Reaching in front of her in the darkness, she crawled away from the bed as far as she could. The floor was made of rough wood, and it hurt her knees. With her ankle chained she was forced to stretch awkwardly, one leg pulled behind her, hands in front of her in the darkness. She could find nothing else within her range, just the bed, the floor, the walls.

The complete blackness was disorienting; little bursts of color flashed in front of her as she strained to see. Liz closed her eyes and climbed back up on the mattress, pulling the blanket around her. Where was she? She thought of screaming, but pushed the idea from her mind. Wherever she had been taken, it was obviously a place where she could scream all she wanted and it would do no good.

Trying to remain calm, she listened intently for anything, some clue as to her whereabouts. There was nothing, only the thudding of her own heart and the noise of the metal chain when she moved. She was fairly sure there was no one else in the room, however. The total darkness, the silence, was oppressive, and she fought not to panic.

Carefully she felt the restraint around her ankle. It was hinged on one side with a small keyhole lock on the other. The chain was attached to the metal cuff with a small swivel attachment. The curved steel made an inflexible circle around her ankle, obdurate and unyielding. It held her slim ankle perfectly in its grasp. She tried to force it down off her foot but only succeeded in scraping herself. Becoming frantic, she pulled at the chain. The panic welled inside her as she tugged irrationally against it. She pounded against the metal with her fist, tearing the skin on her knuckle, the tears welling in her eyes.

Liz fell back on the bed, gasping. She had almost lost it. Of course she could not get the metal cuff from around her ankle. The steel restraint had not been designed so it could be slipped or escaped; its sole purpose was to hold someone, like herself, in a specific manner until someone else chose to release her from it. She wondered who had the key.

There was a thump from somewhere outside the room, in another part of whatever building she was being kept. In a moment she heard deep voices. Although she couldn't make out what they were saying, it sounded like two men, getting closer to her. She lay back on the mattress with the blanket around her and closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing.

She heard the sound of a door being unlocked, then opened. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell that a light had been turned on. Peeking through slitted lids she saw a tall figure, a man. He had his arms folded and seemed to be looking at her. Liz tried not to tremble.

"Come on, I know you're awake, blondie." His voice was deep and firm. "Get up and let's talk about a few things."

Liz opened her eyes, then sat up on the bed, squinting from the light in the room, as she held the blanket tightly around her. The man was wearing a mask covering the top half of his face. He was clad in a T-shirt and jeans, and cowboy boots, his long hair tied in a ponytail. His arms were big and muscular. She knew immediately that this was the man who had abducted her, the one who had handled her so easily. He was probably the one who had stripped her naked and chained her to this bed. She was his captive.

Quickly she looked around the room. The walls were rough wood, unfinished. There was a small table and a chair against the wall, near the door. Probably a cabin, she realized, looking at the planks on the walls and the unfinished floor. There was a pitcher of water and a glass on the table and she suddenly realized how incredibly thirsty she was.

The man saw where she was looking and smiled. "A little dehydrated, are you?" he asked. "It's a side effect of the chloroform. Would you like some water?"

Liz nodded without saying a word. She tried to meet the stranger's eyes, but couldn't. He turned and poured some water into a plastic tumbler. Her hand was shaking as she took it from him. Briefly, their fingers touched. Holding the blanket tight around her body, she drank the water, guzzling it down. It was the best glass of water she'd ever had in her life. Some of the water ran out the side of her mouth and down her neck.

"A little more?" He refilled the glass and handed it back to her. He pulled the chair from against the wall and straddled it backward, looking at her.

"What … what are you going to do to me?" Liz asked, her voice nearly breaking. She knew she should be strong, but she was absolutely terrified. Sitting naked in front of this man, with only a blanket covering her, chained to the bed, she felt small, and vulnerable, and female. She was very aware of his masculine presence, his strength. He could do anything he wanted to her. Breathing quickly, she fought to stay calm.

"Nothing, if everything goes right," he said, answering her question. "If you do what I tell you, then we'll be done with this in no time."

"Who are you? What's your name?" She sipped at the water. The blanket had slipped down, exposing the curve of her breasts, and she pulled it tightly around her neck. Her right leg was still stretched out to the side, held by the metal restraint and the chain. It made a small noise as she moved.

"You can call me Jack, for the purposes of our … relationship. You are worth money to us. That's why we took you. Just a simple business transaction. If you do what we tell you, you'll be back in your apartment on Fourth Street in no time."

Liz nodded, not understanding what the man had said. Money? She had no money. In fact, she'd just started a new job, a good job as an overseas loan officer for a major bank in Seattle. She had moved here from Boston because of the job. And how did he know where she lived?

"Please, I'll do anything, just don't hurt me. Please." She began to cry. It shamed her, but she couldn't help herself.

"Your bank," continued Jack, "has a standing insurance policy for all their foreign loan officers. One million dollars they'll pay to get you back. Even though you just started, you're still covered by the policy. When you signed that contract last week, you became worth a million dollars to anyone who did what we just did. Kidnap you."

"But, they said that was just standard!" She wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to explain. "For anyone who travels overseas, to Asia or South America. They told me not to worry about it."

He smiled. "They'll pay. This company charges incredible premiums for kidnap insurance and they pay off ransom demands in no time at all, with cash. The kidnap business, or at least the threat of it, makes them a lot of money. No police, no FBI, just a business transaction. And we're going to make a lot of money from you, as long as you do what you're told."

Liz looked down at the floor as she drank the rest of the water. What he said was probably true. She knew that there was a real threat of kidnap and extortion in many Asian countries.

Jack was looking at her, somewhat amused, almost as if he could see through the rough blanket. He had undoubtedly seen her naked already. She reddened, noticing him looking at her ankle, trapped in its steel confinement, the curve of her calf.

He stood up. "Make no mistake," he said, "We're not nice guys. I'm not a nice guy. We're prepared to do whatever is necessary to get our money. Be a good girl and do what I tell you." He gestured. "Get up. I'm sure you have to pee. Then we'll take some pictures, and then maybe you can get a little rest."

Liz stood up beside the bed, still holding the blanket around her. It fell to just above her knees. She knew that he could rip the blanket from her with a single motion, exposing her; he could press her back on the bed and do whatever he wanted to her. She would be helpless to resist. Her legs trembled. Even as frightened as she was, a shaming tingle of arousal went through her body. Her nipples stiffened. The rough caress of the blanket against her naked body stimulated her even further.

Jack pulled a short length of chain from his back pocket as he approached. Looking down at her, he reached out and put the chain around her neck, securing it with a small padlock. He looped the chain twice around his fist, taking up the slack. The cool links pressed against the back of her neck.

Bending down, he unlocked her ankle cuff. He had locked the chain collar on her, she realized, before releasing her from the other restraint, ensuring that there was no time when she was not completely under his control. Her body had never been free for even a second.

He turned and opened the door, the pressure on the chain leash forcing her to follow. Immediately across the hall was a small bathroom and he motioned her inside.

"There you go," he told her, "relieve yourself. And be quick about it."

She moved past him, aware of his bulk, and his masculine strength. How was she supposed to pee with him standing there? She hesitated for a moment, then dropped the blanket. He'd seen her body already, no doubt. Embarrassed, she squatted on the cold toilet seat. She looked down, seeing her small feet against the wood floor. There were red marks on her ankle. She was aware of him standing there, waiting for her.

Finally, the trickle started, and then the relief as she emptied her bladder. He didn't say a word as he stood over her, holding the end of the chain locked around her neck.

"Come on, back you go." She grabbed the blanket off the floor and stood up, holding it around her again. As he led her back to the room she looked to the side, glimpsing a short hallway opening onto a larger room. She could hear the sound of a television set, and she wondered how many other men were in the cabin.

Jack led her to the bed and locked the ankle cuff back on her, then removed the chain from around her neck. Before leaving the room, he hung the key on a small clasp hook by the door. The key to her ankle restraint hung there, tantalizing her, just out of her reach. Even though it was only about ten feet away, it might as well have been a million miles. She sat back on the bed, her leg stretched out beside her.

Jack came back into the room. "Here, hold this, up under your face." He handed her a newspaper, the daily edition of the Seattle Times. As she held the paper up he took several pictures with a digital camera. They would be used, apparently, to get the ransom money. She wondered how she must look in the photos with her hair disheveled, her face puffy from crying. Appropriately pathetic, she thought.

He took the paper back, then folded it. "Now, try and get some sleep," he said, standing over her beside the bed. She looked up at him and trembled with another unexpected rush of arousal. At that moment, she wanted him to take her, to force her legs apart on the bed, to use her for his pleasure, she unable to help herself, squirming underneath him, the steel cuff tight around her ankle.

Looking down at her, he smiled. Did he know what she was thinking? After regarding her for a long minute, he turned and left the room. He extinguished the light before he left, plunging the room into blackness. She heard the noise of the door lock. Liz lay on the small bed, the blanket over her body, and wondered what was in store for her when he returned.

Day Two

Some time later, Liz awoke in the pitch-black room. She couldn't even remember falling asleep. The air in the room was hot and stifling, her body covered with sticky sweat. The blanket was down about her waist, twisted around her legs. The steel clasp still encircled her ankle, confining her to the small bed. She remembered the key on the small hook by the door, about several feet outside her grasp. It was tantalizing and infuriating, knowing that the implement to release her was so close, but there was no way she could reach it. She was also thirsty, and very hungry.

How long had she had been here? No more than twenty-four hours, she reasoned. She had no idea if it was day or night. Nothing else could be heard from the rest of the house or cabin. There had been at least three men in the van. She remembered their strong hands, pinning her to the carpet.

She again considered screaming for help, perhaps pounding on the wall, but discarded the idea as unwise. If anything, she would only anger Jack and the other men in the house. Even if she screamed as loud as possible, she couldn't be heard more than a few feet away, as the walls of the cabin were made of thick heavy wood. There was no sound of traffic, no other noises from outside the cabin. Undoubtedly she had been taken to a remote area, where the kidnappers could wait in safety for the ransom payment.

Still, Liz was very frightened. These men might hurt her, she realized, even if the ransom was paid. She had read of kidnappers chopping off pieces of their victims, or worse. What if the insurance company didn't pay the ransom? They might even kill her. Who knew what kind of men these were? She had only seen one of them; she had to come up with some plan, a way to get free.

Sitting up, Liz kicked the blanket off. The chain made a metallic noise at it moved, attached to the cuff around her ankle. The planks of the wall were rough against her back. No windows in the room, she remembered. She had no choice but to sit, and wait, until her captors decided to return for her. Jack, the muscular man with long hair and cowboy boots, was the leader; a man like that would have to be.

Liz knew she was a very attractive woman. Men approached her every day, drawn by her looks. Trying to be kind, thoughtful, and funny; trying to impress her, they would do almost anything she asked. Jack was interested in her, sexually interested, she was sure of that. The way he had looked at her, appraising the movement of her body underneath the blanket, left no doubt of his interest. Perhaps she could get him to help her. All her life, she had been able to get men to do her bidding because of her looks and her body; this guy was just a man, after all, and there was no reason the same techniques wouldn't work with him. She could use her beauty and desirability to win his favor.

If he came back, she decided, she would flirt with him, subtly; indicate that she was also drawn to him. She would imply that he could have sex with her, if he helped her escape. Not directly at first, she would initially draw him into her confidence, make him want her even more. Then she might even be able to plead with him, convince him to help her get free. It was not much of a plan, but it was better than nothing. If she could even get him to unlock the metal ankle cuff, perhaps she could attack him, try to hit him with something and get away. She wiped her face and roughly combed through her hair with her fingers.

More than two hours later, she guessed, there were more noises outside of her room. She pulled the blanket up around her body again. Several men, judging by the sound of the voices. A couple of times, she heard laughing. Maybe they had gotten the ransom money, and would release her.

The door to her room was unlocked and the room flooded with light. She closed her eyes against the sudden painful brightness. After a moment, shielding her eyes, she was able to see that it was Jack; he was wearing the same mask, a half-hood covering the upper part of his face. He dropped a brown paper bag on the floor, then turned to look at her.

"Please? Sir? Please, could I have some more water?" A little tremble in her voice. Holding the blanket around her breasts, somewhat lower than before, she turned slightly, so the line of her stretched thigh and calf, held by the chain at the end of the bed, was more provocative.

Jack grinned at her. He seemed in a good mood. "Sure," he said, then turned around and filled the plastic tumbler from the pitcher. It was almost empty, she saw, from the water she had drunk the night before. He stood over her while she drank. She was half kneeling, one leg drawn under her, her right leg outspread beside her.