Eliza could feel his eyes on her from across the bar. Each time she looked up from her cucumber mojito, she could see the dark haired stranger glancing her way. A few times she even met his ice blue eyes and gave him a smile. The guy that her friend had originally set her up with hadn't shown, and she was starting to get bored. The dark haired man could at the very least help pass the time until her drink was gone. That is, of course, if she could entice him over to her.
After another few sips of her drink, Eliza got her wish. The man approached and took a seat on the stool next to her. "I couldn't help but notice that you're almost finished with that drink. I'd like to buy the next round if you're interested."
"I might be," Eliza played it cool. She tilted her head back and drained the last of her drink. "I'm Eliza."
"Mark," the man gave her a grin before waving the bartender over. "Hey, Adam? Another for the beauty next to me."
Adam flashed a smile their way, "Coming right up. Another Jamison for you?" After getting a nod from Mark, he turned away to start pouring their drinks.
"So, Eliza," Mark's voice was smooth and rich in her ears. "I don't think I've seen you here before. I definitely would have remembered you."
Eliza felt her face grow warm with a blush. "No, I've never been here before. I was supposed to meet a guy here. Friend of a friend. Guess he crapped out on me." She immediately picked up the glass that the bartender set in front of her and took a sip.
"His loss." Mark nodded, watching her carefully as she drank. "Hopefully I can make your night a bit better." His eyes darkened for a moment, leaving an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Maybe," Eliza took another swig of her drink as a nervous habit. After this one she would switch to something non-alcoholic.
Mark's lips curled into a smile, as his hand found its way to her thigh, rubbing circles against the denim of her jeans. "I guarantee it."
That touch was far too familiar for someone she barely knew. Very few people had touched her like that, just her high school boyfriend and a guy that she had met at one of her friend's parties. Not that she hadn't been optimistic about her date enough to wear her good underwear, but she wasn't about to let just anyone handle her like that.
"I actually probably should be going," Eliza said, her muscles tensing under his touch. She kept a close eye on her drink. Something about this guy gave her the impression that he wouldn't be morally opposed to slipping her something.
"Oh, come on now. You haven't even finished your drink," Mark nodded to the glass.
Damn her people pleasing ways. Eliza took another drink. He had paid for it, so it'd be rude for her to just leave, even if he was being a bit too forward. If she drank fast, she could be on her way in another ten minutes. "Alright, I'll finish my drink."
"That's what I like to hear," Mark let out a light laugh, sliding his firm hand against her thigh again, this time pressing a bit harder, leaving her cheeks a hot pink.
That was too far. Eliza drained the last of her glass and slid off the barstool to make her way to the exit. The second her feet hit the floor, she wobbled and a lightness hit her head that she wasn't prepared for.
Mark was at her side as if he knew that she was going to stumble. "Let me help you outside." Before she could slur out a protest, his arm was around her and she was being guided outside and into a car. She felt her body slump across the back seat, darkness engulfing her vision...
Eliza had no idea how long she had been out. The first thing that she noticed was the darkness in front of her, but after a second she recognized the pressure of the blindfold across her eyes. It took her a few moments before she remembered what happened. The bar...that man, Mark, if that even was his name, putting her in the car. Fuck... She moved quickly to try and sit up, but quickly realized that she couldn't move. Her wrists were bound with what felt like rope, holding her arms tightly in place above her head. An attempted kick of her legs let her know that they were bound too.
Panic rushed through Eliza as she finally understood what this meant. She quickly thrashed, trying desperately to loosen the hold that the ropes had on her, but she could only move about an inch in any direction. Whoever had tied her binds clearly knew what they were doing.
She pulled and bucked as hard as she could for what felt like a long time, but eventually all she could do was accept that she was trapped. Just after her body went still with defeat, a man's laugh filled Eliza's ears. She recognized Mark's voice when he spoke. "I must say, I'm pretty impressed. Most of the girls have started screaming by now."
"Where am I?" Eliza demanded, doing everything she could to keep her tone even, but a crack in her voice betrayed her. "And how did you get me here? I made sure to watch you--"
"Watch me to make sure I didn't put anything in your drink?" Mark asked, laughing like she had told him a particularly funny joke. "I didn't put anything in your drink. The bartender on the other hand...He's on our payroll."
A few footsteps tapped against the hardwood floor as he approached her. "This is technically an estate that belongs to my employer." His tone was light and conversational, as if she had asked him about the weather. "I suppose for your purposes though, this is more like a terminal, though your destination is yet to be determined." The footsteps stopped right next to her.
Eliza felt the color drain from her face. "So, you're not planning to keep me here?" she asked. The only thing that could be worse than being kidnapped and brought to a place like this would be to be kidnapped, brought to a place like this, and then moved somewhere unknown, further away, and possibly even more secluded.
"As I said, that's yet to be determined," Mark answered. She felt a finger trail lightly against the bare skin of her arm, up and over the fabric of her short sleeve and across her exposed collarbone. "Let me clear up a few things for you. My employer sells pretty girls like you to interested parties. Part of my job is evaluating what kind of slave you're going to be. Some buyers want sweet, well behaved slaves, others like a challenge. Of course there's preferences in looks, hair color, size of hips and breasts, how sweet that pussy tastes..."
"If you think I'm going to just let you--" Her protests were cut short with a sharp slap to her left cheek. The stinging blow replaced any other words with a quick gasp.
"I'm not asking for your opinion," Mark's voice was no longer light, but thick with danger. "You're certainly in no position to give it. And if you have anything else to say about that..."
Eliza felt something cold and sharp trace a line down her cheek. It had to be a knife. A tingle made itself known between her legs. She leaned back, trying to pull as far away as she could, but that only earned her a chuckle from Mark. "Oh, you're going to be fun, I can tell. In fact," Mark pressed the side of the knife against her skin before sliding it up towards her temple before quickly slicing the blindfold and pulling it away from her. "I want you to see all of this."
She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the light in the room. First, she looked down to see her body, relieved that she was still dressed and uninjured. Then, her eyes scanned around the room, purposefully avoiding looking at her captor. If he wanted her to look at him, that was the last thing she wanted to give him.
"You can try to avoid looking at me all you want, but that's not going to change anything," Mark shook his head, turning his back for a moment. He stepped away, towards a desk on the other side of the room, Eliza craned her neck to see what he was going to pull from the desk drawer. "Let's see what we're really working with here, shall we?"
Mark approached again, holding up a pair of scissors for her to see before tracing the blades against her neck. A tremble shook Eliza's body and goosebumps prickled her skin under the cold metal. He moved the shears down, taking the fabric of her top between the two blades.
The reality of what was happening finally hit her. "No! Stop!" She pulled at the ropes again, groaning as they did not budge.
"You better be careful sweetheart," Mark warned. "Wouldn't want to cut anything but your clothes yet." Three snips of the scissors down the front and one each for the sleeves, and Mark ripped the remainders of her blouse from her body and tossed them aside, exposing the black lace of her bra. He moved down to her jeans, slicing carefully from her left ankle all the way up her leg, and then did the same to her right side.