Every Shade of Darkness

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There was pain. Her eyes clenched shut.

She opened her eyes.

She swore and tried to move, shift away from the hardness that was hurting her back.

Her arms were behind her back and they wouldn’t move. Something at her wrists stopped her.

She writhed.

Jenny opened her eyes again, feeling something as her eyelids brushed it. A blindfold?

Her mouth was stuffed with something too… a gag?

She, of course, had read that book, like all her friends. Her best friend, Sarah, lent her a copy. She’d laughed about it with all her mates over too much wine.

Then one day she’d suggested it to George. As a joke, or in a way that she could pass off as a joke, because sometimes George could be a bit funny… sensitive about things like that.

To her surprise, he’d agreed.

It wasn’t like the book… of course not, not even close. So all the stuff, the handcuffs the blindfold and the gag went into that drawer of things that are never used again and then are forgotten about.

Now, though Jenny wasn’t lying on their bed. She was on some hard, rough floor. She could feel it against her skin.

It could be the garage. There was a cold draft and the floor was hard, rough and dirty. She felt with her fingers, back past the pain in her back, wincing again as the rough floor grazed her nakedness.

It felt like concrete. There was a hollow feeling to the air and a hint of engine oil on the air too, something damp against her bare thigh.

Her head throbbed as Jenny tried to remember, to cast her mind back to what had happened before… well, before this.

There had been an argument, or as close to an argument as George ever got. He was quiet equitable, most of the time. But that old saying about still waters was more than true of him. Which was why she’d been hesitant about bringing the toys into the bedroom, not sure of how he’d react.

Now here she was tied up and blindfolded, lying naked on the floor of the garage. This time it didn’t feel like a game.

When he let her go, this time there would be trouble. The hard cold concrete dug into her back, her shoulders, and her thighs.

She was getting cold now too and the taste of the cheap plastic ball gag was making her feel a little sick.

She wished she could scream, or stand up… or anything.

It sounded quiet, wherever she was, as though it was the middle of the night. As if just to confirm it, an owl hooted. If this had been a TV mystery drama, she’d have laughed at the cliché. She didn’t feel like laughing now. If anything she felt like… she needed to go, the pressure in her stomach, her bladder, was increasing, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about that.

Then she heard the door open.

Then footsteps.

More than one set. Jenny thought about her nakedness and people looking down at her.

Strangers?

‘What shall we do with her?’ It was the voice of Sarah, her best friend.

She was safe! Jenny sighed with relief around the gag. Surely, it was over now.

‘We’ll get rid of her,’ George said.

The footsteps turned and walked away.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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