When I wake up in a dark, unfamiliar room, I have no idea what's waiting for me in the shadows. My imagination conjures up demons of the worst kind.
Reality is much worse:
A collar with no leash. A prison with no walls. And a life stripped of meaning.
I am presented with a vile contract and asked to sign. It outlines the terms of my servitude. The only information I have about my captor are the two small letters inked at the bottom:
Armed with only my memories, I must do everything I can to avoid becoming ensnared in his twisted mind games. But in the end, it all comes down to one choice:
Resist and die.
Or submit, and sign my life away
I wake with a gasp and bolt upright.
Water. I need water!
As my groggy brain starts to recognize my surroundings, I feel sick. I can’t stop the reflex. I turn to my side and hurl. I vomit until the full contents of my stomach are spewed up. It’s not enough. My guts keep contracting, making me dry-heave again, and again, and again.
Bile burns my throat. Tears stream down my face. My back is covered in sweat. I feel so weak. So pathetic. I gag on the putrid smell and endure another attack. It feels like my stomach is turning itself inside out. My insides hurt.
When the final convulsion subsides, and I’m sure the worst is over, I collapse onto my side. I bring my knees up and curl into a little ball, holding my arms tight over my chest. It’s the most protective position I know.
The stink of my vomit is all around me. It’s so bad I almost start puking again. I roll to the other side to get away.
I’m shocked when I see the marble pillar inches from my nose. I was so far away when I blacked out…
That means somebody came in here and moved me.
Even more revolting than the stench is the thought of the author of that letter laying his hands on me. I start to cry. What else did he do to me while I was unconscious?
My blouse is a wet mess of sweat. My cheeks are stained with tears. I can’t get away from the smell. Breathing through my mouth is no better. It brings attention to the taste of vomit on my tongue.
It’s a wonder I haven’t pissed myself yet.
Cope. I can’t cope. I can’t deal with this.
You can, a strong voice tells me. You’ve done it before. Remember?
I close my eyes and drift away to a place where the pain isn’t so bad…
I live near beautiful Seattle, Washington. I grew up reading all types of fantasy books before discovering the wonderful world of romances in high school. Now, I spend most of my time writing about sexy men and the women who love them.
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