Sharae watched helplessly as the man ambled forward and knelt next to her. She couldn't believe what she'd just witnessed, the way this maniac had helped himself to that other woman's breasts, groping, squeezing, pinching, then constricting then in those rubber bands! Was he planning to torture her the same way?
He reached toward her face and she jerked her head back instinctively. She didn't want to get slapped again. He took one end of the tape and yanked it from her face.
She gasped in surprise then immediately screamed. “Help me! For God's sake! Somebody help me!"
He clamped his hand over her mouth and pushed up on her jaw. “Listen, bitch. If you wanna die, keep screaming."
Sharae stopped and tears came to her eyes. He removed his hand from her face and sat back, studying her.
“Please let me go,” she begged.
“No can do, sweetcheeks.” She blushed as his eyes traveled over her body. “Tell me your name."
She shook her head in defiance. “You'll never get away with this."
Preston threw his head back and laughed. “I already have."
“They'll find you, hunt you down,” she spat angrily at him. “You can't just-” She was cut off as his hand landed a hard slap.
“Tell me your fucking name."
Tears spilled down her cheeks at the rage in his voice. “Sharae,” she said weakly. “Sharae Stevens.” What had made this man the way he was, she wondered? Did it make him feel like a big man to kidnap women and keeping them tied up? Did he derive some sick pleasure from it?
“Sharae…” he said slowly. The way he said it made her stomach turn and tie itself in knots. “Lovely name. It'll go very nicely with ‘Slave' in front of it."
Slave? she thought. Not bloody likely. She was going to be rescued. It was only a matter of time before the police figured out everything.
“You know,” he continued. “You really should be thanking me, Sharae. I could just as easily have killed you when you stumbled upon us.” He motioned his head disdainfully toward the other woman.
He sat there staring at her expectantly. Was he actually waiting for her to thank him for not killing her? For trussing her up like a calf at a rodeo, or for referring to her some kind of slave?
“I'm waiting, Sharae,” he said testily. His grin transformed into a warning scowl. “Ordinarily, I'm a very patient man, but I can see you're in need of a serious attitude adjustment."
“No!” she yelped. “I'm sorry. I–I thank you for not killing me.” She hated the sound of the words coming out of her own mouth.
“Sir…” he prompted.
“Sir,” she repeated.
“Again, from the beginning."
She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. What an asshole, she thought. Then deliberately, she repeated, “Thank you, sir, for not killing me."
He chuckled to himself. “You have a lot of spirit. I can tell. Not unusual at first, but soon you'll learn the proper respect. It'll become second nature."
Again she wondered just what kind of madhouse she'd blundered into. She thought about the other girl, the one who apparently lived with this loon. She called him “Master.” She'd actually tied herself up for him.
As her mind reeled, she hardly noticed he'd released her hogtie, and was standing her up. Sharae stood uncomfortably as he slowly circled around her. His gaze covered every inch of her, from every angle, head to foot. He kept murmuring to himself, little approving sounds. “Mm hm… yes… nice…"
She couldn't believe how intensely he studied her. She blushed as she never had before. It was degrading, yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, she actually felt pride at being the object of his approval.
Suddenly she felt him close behind her. “Just one little adjustment…” he muttered to himself. He grabbed her arms and pulled them closer together. She felt rope being wrapped around her elbows, pulling them tight. She groaned in pain and apprehension. Why he was binding her elbows when she was already handcuffed, and her fingers were useless in their duct tape mittens. He stepped in front of her again, his eyes wide, staring, burning into her chest. She glanced down and gasped at the sight of her own breasts jutting out so prominently.
Again he laughed. “You see, Sharae, how bondage improves the female form.” She shook her head numbly. “You deny it, but the proof is right there.” He stood aside and she could see herself in a mirror across the room. It looked as if she didn't have arms at all, they were bound so tightly behind her. Her breasts seemed to strain at her blouse. The sight made her feel vaguely warm and tingly inside.
Again she shook her head. “No…” she protested weakly.
He suddenly shoved a large red ball into her mouth until it wedged behind her teeth. She tried to resist, but he'd taken her by surprise. He buckled the attached strap tightly behind her head.
“I'm going to retrieve my girl from her punishment now,” he said. “I suggest you stay put. If you try to move around and lose your balance, the fall will be quite painful."
She realized it was true. If she toppled with her arms bound as they were, she'd be unable to break her fall. Helplessly she stared into the mirror as he hurried off. Her gagged reflection stared back at her. As she looked at her own full lips held wide by the intruding ball, she again felt that warm tingling deep within her. Tears of shame and frustration fell down her cheeks.