Rod Harden - Sharae and Melissa

“I do have a name, you know."

“Yes, I know. Suzy Sinclair, age thirty-four. Head of the pediatric ward. Married and divorced three times. No kids, no boyfriend. But you do want a girlfriend.” He grinned as she blushed. “I do my homework, blondie."

“Look, Mr. Know-It-All. I fixed you up. I held up my end of the deal. Now it's your turn."

He lifted the gun and pointed it at her. “No. You look, Suzy. I'm not in the mood for your attitude. And I'm not in the business of releasing girls after I've snatched them."

She stared at the gun. “B-but you said-"

“I know what I said. Here's another clue. Never trust your kidnapper.” He watched her face as she registered the fact he'd lied to her.

“You bastard,” she hissed angrily.

“Thank you."

She reached for a pair of scissors.

“I'd set those down if I were you.” Preston aimed the gun at her head. “Unless you're prepared to die right now."

She hesitated, then set the scissors down. “Please!” she pleaded. “I promise I won't say a word to anyone, I swear I won't. I just want to go home."

Preston shook his head. “Playing to my sympathy won't work. I have none. Now… take that bottle of ether you noticed."

Suzy didn't move.

Now!"

She began to sob quietly as she did as he ordered.

“Make one move I don't like, I'll blow your pretty face off. That's one promise you can count on me keeping."

She nodded.

“Now shake some out onto those pads."

With trembling hands she sprinkled the remaining gauze pads with the clear liquid.

Preston grinned, despite his exhaustion. “Now put the pad over your nose and mouth and breathe deeply."

She stared at him. “No, please. I can't-"

“You can and you will. Now do it!"

Slowly she brought the ether-soaked pads up to her face. She paused and looked at him. He could see the plea in her eyes.

“Do it."

Her shoulders slumped as she pressed the pad to her face.

“Breathe deep, blondie.” He watched her take a breath, then another. She sagged and dropped to the floor.

Preston stooped down and pressed the pad against her face for another minute. “Just to be sure you're not faking it,” he whispered to the unconscious girl.

When he was satisfied she was really out, he quickly stood and grabbed the bottle of Advil out of the medicine cabinet. He gulped down four tablets at once. That should take the edge off the pain-he hoped.

He set the safety on his gun and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans. Then he grabbed Suzy's hands and dragged her into the playroom.

He propped her against a pole and used handcuffs to secure her wrists behind her, with her arms around the pole. He used leather straps to secure her ankles and knees. In his weakened condition, it took him twice as long as it normally would have to secure the girl. He selected a white ball-gag and forced it between her slack lips, buckling it tight around her head. That'll keep you quiet when you wake up, he thought.

Wearily, he rose to his feet. He was drained. There was no way he could go after Joe in this state. He had to rest, regain some strength. He couldn't let Joe get the better of him again. He wanted Angel and Sharae back-and he wanted revenge.

Preston staggered to his bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress. He passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Angel woke slowly to a pounding pain in the base of her skull and a dull ache in her wrists. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked a few times to focus. She was startled to see she wasn't in her home. Where the hell was she?

All at once unwanted memories flooded back into her consciousness. She remembered arriving home from shopping and hearing the gunshots. She'd run into the house to see Preston lying in a heap. And the blood! It had been everywhere.

She raised her head carefully to see what was causing her wrists so much pain. They were tied to the beam above her head so her arms were spread. There were only two wrappings around them, which were tied extremely tight. The rope almost disappeared into her delicate wrists. That certainly explained the intense discomfort. She felt ropes binding her ankles and knees, too. She was still slumped over from being bound while unconscious, so she heaved herself up to stand upright and sighed in relief as some of the strain was taken from her wrists. She was surprised she wasn't gagged, but she was totally naked.

“Well, well, well. Finally, Sleeping beauty awakens,” Joe said as he appeared from behind her. He was sporting only a pair of boxers himself.

She looked at him for just a moment before she had to avert her gaze. He had killed Preston. Her Master. The love of her life. Without Preston, who was she? The tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her ravaged cheeks.

“Stop your damn crying!” he shouted, suddenly angered. His fist lashed out and struck her across the face.

Her head jerked to the right. She gasped, gathered her strength and looked at him, glaring defiantly. Her anger got the better of her and boiled over. “You mother fucking asshole murderer!” she screamed at him. “You killed him! You murdered my Master!"

His backhand caught her on the side of the jaw. The forehand struck her temple, rattling her teeth. Her head lolled back and lights danced before her eyes. The pain in her head intensified, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

“He is not your Master, anymore, Angela. I am. From now on, you will call me Master,” he said, his tone venomous.

She straightened up and leaned forward into his face. She stared him in the eyes. “Never! I'd rather die than to call you Master. And my name is Angel."

He jammed his fist into her abdomen with such force it left her gasping for air. “That can be arranged, Angela.” He walked around behind her. “But first, this collar has to go."

She felt his fingers fumbling with the buckle to her collar. Preston's collar. “No!” she cried and began thrashing around, trying to prevent him from removing the collar. She screamed in frustration as she felt the warm leather fall away from her throat.

Joe carelessly tossed the collar aside. “Don't worry, Angela. I'll get you one of mine soon enough. For now I'll give you a makeshift one."

She watched him walk over to the lone table in the room and pick up a coil of rope. He returned and tied one end around her throat. He wrapped it snug around her neck, not enough to cut off her air, but enough to hinder it.

“Preston was right about one thing, at least. Rope does enhance a woman's beauty,” Joe said thoughtfully, staring at Angel's bound form.

Angel's breathing was labored from the constricting rope around her throat. She looked at anything except Joe. She didn't want to see the man who had killed her Master. She wished Joe would just tighten the rope a little more-or shoot her-or rip her heart out. Anything so she could be with her Preston. “Just kill me,” she said softly. “Please."

Joe casually strolled over to the table again and picked up a long thin metal object. Angel watched, curious. It looked like an antenna from a car. “Oh, I'm not going to kill you, dearest. I'm just going to make you wish you were dead."

“I already do,” she whispered.

He walked behind her again. Angel stood perfectly still, wondering when the first blow would come. “Or maybe I'll just maim you so bad that nobody will want your skanky slut ass.” She heard him chuckle, before adding, “Speaking of which…"

The first blow from the antenna landed across both ass cheeks. The pain was brutal. It felt like it had sliced into her flesh. She screamed and jerked in her bonds, losing her balance. The ropes bit into her wrists again.