“Why are you doing this? Are you crazy?” She could hear her voice edging toward hysteria, her heart beating like a wild bird in her chest. Even as she asked this, she knew it was a pointless question. He was a stalker, and she’d had them before, though nothing like this. They were mostly social media stalkers, and guys who hung around the back entrance to movie studios and photo shoots, hoping for a glimpse, wilted bouquets in their hands, a lovesick look on their faces. A stern talking-to by one of the studio tough guys, and, on one occasion, a visit from the local police, had been enough to make them back off. But this guy was in a totally different category. He seemed to actually believe the crazy shit he was spouting.
“Crazy in love, maybe.” He smiled as if he’d said something witty. “My love for you is very special, as you are about to learn. You see, I like control. Total and complete control.” His smile edged into something cruel that sent an arrow of dread directly into Alana’s gut. “You don’t yet understand. But you will.”
Terror rose into Alana’s throat, escaping her mouth in a scream.
The madman who had called himself Mark rose to his feet and moved close to the bed, looming over her. “Shut up. Stop it,” he yelled, but she couldn’t have stopped, even if she’d wanted to. He pulled back his hand and slapped her across the face.
After a sharp, stunned intake of breath, Alana just screamed louder.
“All right, then,” Mark said, his mouth a thin line of determination. “If that’s how you want to start out. I was saving this for later, but if you insist.” He marched out of the room and returned a moment later with a bright red ball gag in his hand. Leaning over her, he pressed the disgusting rubber ball between her lips, forcing her tongue back and stifling her cries. As he reached out to buckle the strap behind her head, Alana tried ineffectually to twist away.
He grabbed the chain that held her wrists and yanked it up, winding it through the ringbolt and forcing Alana’s arms up and back over her head in the process. He then reached for the chain between her ankles and pulled it up and over her body, also attaching it to the ringbolt. This forced Alana’s legs up into the air, as if she were in a hospital bed, immobilized after a ski accident.
She thrashed wildly in her chains, but to no avail. Saliva pooled in her mouth and dripped around the ball as she squirmed and whimpered, but the deranged man only stared down at her with a nasty smile.
~*~
She looked so incredibly beautiful, so helpless in her bonds. Mark stood for a long moment, drinking in the sight of his naked prisoner, bound and pulled taut by her chains. Now that he actually had her just where he wanted her, he had no idea where to start. Should he whip her first? Or lovingly melt hot wax onto those perfect breasts, letting the hot liquid splash here and there, finally searing her nipples with its fire?
His cock was straining hard against his jeans. Reaching down, he unzipped his pants. Yes. He would make love to her first. Claim her in that traditional manner before he set about claiming her soul.
“Alana.” His voice was hoarse with barely controlled lust. She stared at him, her dark blue eyes wide over the gag. “I can’t decide whether to whip you or fuck you.”
Her eyes fluttered shut and her head fell back. She had fainted again.
Mark moved closer to the nude, bound woman. Bending over her slack body, he carefully released and removed the ball gag from her mouth and gently wiped the drool from her chin. He released the cuffs and chains that held her legs, and they flopped back down onto the bed.
“Alana,” he said softly. “Come back to me.”
Alana’s eyes slowly opened.
“Welcome back.” Mark said with a smile. “You weren’t out so long this time. You really need to stop passing out. It’s annoying. I might lose my patience and throw a bucket of cold water on you next time.”
“Please let me out of these chains,” she begged in a sweet, trembling voice. “My arms hurt. My wrists, too. Please, Mark. Please.”
She’d said his name. A shiver of pleasure rushed through Mark’s psyche. “If I let you out, will you be a good girl, darling? No more screaming? And you won’t try anything stupid like trying to run away, will you? I’d hate to have to shoot you.” He touched the gun, which he’d tucked into the front waistband of his jeans. It was unloaded, of course, but she didn’t know that.
Her eyes widened with fear as they followed his hand, and he could see her visibly swallow. “Yes, Mark,” she said, her voice cracking. “I promise.”