Simple Twist of Fate

The first thing I noticed was that there was no extra light when I opened my eyes, yet I could feel the warmth of the day in the air around me; my brain was only two seconds behind the fact as I worked out that there was a blindfold of a dark satin material over my eyes tied in a knot which I could feel between my head and whatever I was lying on. The blindfold was shaped to my face so that here was no light leakage at all. My mouth was dried out, all moisture soaked up by the velvet gag that filled it.

Desperately I tried to put some recent history to my position... I came up one big blank... at the same time as this level of confusion threatened to fog my mind I realise that there was something hindering the free movement of my legs , my ankles were attached to each other, something rough wrapped around each one... hobbled by a solid rod a couple of feet long between them. I reach down to feel more but my arm movement is restricted as well. I can feel the cold of the metal manacle on each wrist as I tried to reach down, heard the clink and felt the weight of the chain that was attached to each manacle.

The discoveries bring me to as full a state of awareness as I have ever experienced. A cold sweat envelops my body and scenarios start making their way through my imagination. Each one more dreadful than the last... but I don't know what's happened.

'I'm naked,' my own voice screams at me inside my head.

I'm naked!...Last night... last night... what the fuck happened last night?

Nikki had pulled a blonde muscle-bound buffoon and gone back to his place; I remembered thinking that she was a lucky mare when she'd checked that I'd be okay making my own way back to our shared flat above the kebab shop in Monksbrook. The music had coerced me to dance on my own for a while - that was until some clodhopping local placed his size twelve down hard on my size fives which sent me staggering for the ladies loo.

After a quick rub to make sure that nothing was broken, I'd sat at the bar with a final vodka and Red Bull...

Mark!

That was his name... Mark came and sat next to me then bought me another drink. He was in the rugby club at college and from Derbyshire before he'd got here. I remembered that he seemed amusing in a dry sort of way and not pushy enough to be a drag while still being interested enough to make me feel attractive.

There was still a background fuzziness to the entire proceedings as my fevered mind tried to remember what had happened after that. He'd bought me a second drink whilst I was taking a pee, said that they'd run out of Red Bull so I'd got a vodkatini instead. I remembered that it was sweeter than I'd expected.

"Are you awake then?"

The deep voice gives me a start and I jerk in reaction to it. It's not Mark's voice...

"I guess that's a yes then… time to play again, I think."

I push my tongue against the gag and try to manoeuvre the knot behind my head up enough to get it off.

"It turns me on when you struggle."

For a second I was too mad to let his words sink in and in a raging fury I threw everything I had into trying to get loose from any of the stays against me. His laughter brought me back to a thinking state and my mind replayed his last sentence. Immediately I stilled myself and regained some control over my breathing. I think I was stupidly trying to remain composed; naked, restricted, blindfolded, manacled and gagged and I thought that I could hold onto an air of composure...

"I was going to kill myself... do you know that? It's been seven long years since I last gave in to temptation and I was so lonely that I was going to hang myself, today after Sunday lunch... ha ha ha. In a way you saved my life, then. I must remember to thank you."

Suddenly the spongy surface against my back changes orientation as my feet are lowered to the floor, the bar between my ankles makes standing a little awkward as it digs through the rough material that holds it in place. My arms are tugged upwards as if weights are attached to the chains beyond the manacles.

I heard the swish of the cane but failed to identify the sound before it lands in a line of searing agony across the upper side of my breasts. My scream never breached the silencing of the gag but that didn't stop me screaming over and over until I was silenced by the hoarseness of my dry throat... the blindfold and the gag whilst restricting two of my senses seem to accentuate the others. There is a line of flesh where the cane landed that I can feel every micron of its length; the line is not solid and as it swells I feel the coolness of the break in its length in the dip between my boobs, just a couple of inches long but it's not sending red hot shocks through my body and that alone is enough of a relief for me to momentarily wish that I had no tits at all.

Suddenly my mind throws up the idea that there might be worse to come and my bladder lets go, my ankles are held so far apart that only the smallest of splashes bounces back to my legs from the floor. It was the wrong thing to do...

"What are you doing... no... no! That's not sexy you filthy bitch!"

The blows come so quickly that the noise of the cane coming my way merges in a rondo of swishes in and out and sharp slaps as it lands over and over again against the naked flesh of my upper body. The third or fourth blow hits across the still agonising line of the first and I discovered that there was an even greater pain than those I had already felt. I stopped myself from throwing up, petrified that I could drown myself in my own vomit.

After ten or twelve blows have rained down he stopped. His timing was terrible for me - I had felt the warm approach of unconsciousness, was waiting to welcome it... and then he fucking stopped. His breathing is loud and harsh, getting closer; I feel his breath against the side of my face.

"You better be sexy for me slut, or I might just lose my temper - then we'll see what you make of that!"

I discovered that I have a greater capacity for fear than I'd have ever guessed, and once again my mind throws me the idea that maybe there's more that I was going to learn in that direction before this ordeal was over. There was a rattle as the cane is dropped to the wooden floor and both of his hands grab my tenderised breasts, the roughness of his grasp sending another series of waves through each of the wheals, burning agony that forces a sweat to break out over the whole of my body. He groans and stops mid squeeze, his fingers still sending jolting shocks that run to a red centre of these pain sensations in the front of my head.

Something wet slops against the front of my thigh, my heightened sense of smell and his groans force me to recognise that he has spunked up on me, completely without any manual stimulation. I realise that he is also naked as the head of his cock, still hard and pumping, rubs into my thigh. As his orgasm finishes he momentarily falls against me, he is hairy and chubby, his flesh, rubbery against mine, pushes against his still grasping fingers, causing further pain.

He smells vaguely sweaty and unwashed and his breath suggests that he hasn't brushed his teeth this morning. He regains his feet and steps back and away from me, his sperm dribbles slowly down my leg. He swings me back into a horizontal position before speaking again...

"What a stroke of luck for me? I've never even visited Monksbrook before last night and was only there because an accident had blocked the main road. I was totally lost when I found you staggering in my direction... I hadn't even meant to drive down that road. Do you believe in fate, because it was fate that caused our paths to cross."

For a few seconds there was silence, then I feel his hands at my face; there is nowhere to pull back from his grasp.

"I am going to remove your gag - you may scream if you wish, but I have no neighbours and if I get bored with your noise then I can always replace the gag."

I want to spit in his face, but there's not enough moisture in my mouth to lick a stamp.

"I need to use the toilet, really... I swear if you don't let me, I'll shit myself." My voice comes out as a croak. I was about to repeat my demand when he released my hands from the manacles, two simple clicks and they are free... there is another wave of agony as the muscles in my arms scream in relief at not being stretched anymore.

He grabbed my hair and roughly pulled me forward and past him before pushing me in front of him, still using my hair as reins to guide me in the required direction. It was really hard to walk whist my ankles were hobbled, each step a sharp knock against my inner ankle... my mind throws me the fear of the extra pain that I would have to endure if I was to fall whilst he was gripping my hair. He pulled me up to stop me and turned me to my right, the bathroom had a cold tiled floor; it was only a few steps before he stopped me and turned me round. There was a shuffling noise before a roll of toilet tissue was thrust into my left hand.

"Sit down. The bowl is just behind you. I'll give you five minutes to finish and to clean yourself up; I'll be right outside the door so don't try anything that might upset me."

I hear his footsteps as he withdraws and a slight squeak as he pulls the door closed behind him. Immediately I sit down reaching for the knot behind my head with both hands, I don't try to undo it, just tug it over my head... the light is so strong that for a second I can't see anything except a dazzling white that envelops everything. I start to piss, the noise of its landing in the pool below sounds so normal that I almost become distracted by it. But I resist and reach down with both hands to the material that is wrapped around my ankles. My eyes start to work and I realise that it is a rough Hessian sack, knotted around each leg on both sides of my ankles, the inner knots there to hold the solid rod in place. It takes a few seconds to undo the first and only a little longer to undo the other. I weigh the rod in my hand, before putting it in my lap whilst I dab myself clean after my toilet has finished.

"The flush is on the front of the cistern behind you."

His voice forced me to hurry... I stood, giving myself a second or two to get used to not being hobbled. I half-turn the rod in my right hand to enable myself to press the flush lever with my left, and step quickly to one side of the door before he heard the flush and re-entered.

Luckily for me he decided that I must be behind the door at the sink and he stepped forward until he was level with me. The rod hit him full in the throat dropping him instantly to his knees and had him reaching for his neck with both hands. The second blow hit the crown of his head and the third hit the back of same as he toppled forward to the floor. I stopped myself from repeating the blows when I saw that he was unconscious.

I was so scared that he would come round before I could escape that I dragged him back out of the bathroom and up the carpeted hallway to the room where I had come round. The bed is in a weird cast iron Victorian looking frame that appears to allow manipulation through 360 degrees. The manacles stretch down far enough to reach his wrists as he slumped against it.

Fifteen minutes later and I wake him up by throwing a glass of water into his face...

"Where in the fuck are we?"

He shook his head to move the water from his eyes and said nothing. My foot lashed out catching him in the centre of his chest causing his breath to leave his body in a rush... but still no response in words.

"What kind of a creep doesn't have a phone line into his house in the middle of nowhere? And where's your car?"

I glared down at him but he wasn't even looking at me. I can see the way my kick had left a deep red mark on him, and wasn't even shocked when my brain decided that I needed to know that it looked as if that was going to be one angry looking bruise later. He was looking at the hobble which he was by then wearing and I was horrified to see that the further knowledge of his predicament was encouraging the regaining of his erection.

I left him where he was and went downstairs where I found my clothes in a dustbin bag by the back door - I think that's when it dawned on me that he hadn't been planning to let me go when he'd finished. That's when I got mad.

***

I hand the detective the sheet of paper...

"That's all I'm willing to write... he got what he deserved and probably not as much as that, even."

The detective isn't smiling...

"A judge and jury's never going to believe that you had to set fire to his genitals or remove his eyelids to get the information from him... he was tied up for Christ's sake... you didn't have to do those things to him. And you left him to suffer... with no tongue or fingers... why didn't you report him to us?... why did you leave him to slowly die?"

I've blanked it from my mind as I wrote it down, I don't want to remember it any more... it wasn't a nice time in my life. I noticed that it was a nice day outside the police station window.

***

Once again, thank-you ,thank-you, thank-you Hotti for your dexterous editing... making snow from cotton wool...