“This is a huge misunderstanding! I just got lost!”
The coarse ropes around your wrists and ankles are unforgiving, a rashy burn igniting your skin with each desperate thrash against them. Another length of thick, scratchy rope is snug to the space between your chest and your stomach, keeping your back flush with the chair you’re secured to.
You have no idea if anyone can even hear your echoed pleas, the blindfold tied tightly around the back of your head sparing you from your unbearably quiet, freezing prison.
“Please!”
Your voice is raw and sniveling, tears soaking into your blindfold before they can crest your cheeks. You end on a whine, your head lulling forward in defeat.
The sound of a heavy metal door creaking open floods the room, and your head perks up with a gasp.
“Please, please - help me!”
You get no response, only the sound of heavy bootsteps as they approach. Intimidating and confident, each slow, rhythmic step making you brace a little tighter.
You suck in a breath through your teeth, shoulders pulled up and body trembling in your chair.
“Please,” You whisper, your shaky plea made of only breath, “I’m not supposed to be here.”
The bootsteps come to a stop in front of you, the sound of your squeaky, stuttered breaths following.
“No, you’re not.”
You flinch at your captor’s voice, rough and gravelly and stern, certainly not the voice of the savior you were praying for.
“So what are you doing here, hm?”
“I-” Your mouth is dry, words cracked and broken, “I got lost- Please! I made a wrong turn and I got lost! I- I didn’t mean-”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
He scoffs.
“What business does a brat like you have all the way out here?”
“Wh- it was - my friend! She got drunk, she needed me to pick her up from a- a party.”
His laughs, loud and hearty and truly gut-wrenching.
“There’s nothing out here but us.”
“Y- It was a woods, thing. I don’t know! Some rave in the middle of nowhere, I swear!”
He laughs again, this one low and sinful, a deep hum stitched in.
“Nice try, liebling.”
There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his low, raspy whisper is inches from your face. The heat of his breath on your cheek sends a shudder down your spine.
“But I don’t believe you.”
You let out a whine, your mouth parting and your brows pinching behind your blindfold.
“Who sent you here, liebling?”
“No one!”
He keeps his face inches from yours, surely enjoying the front row seat to your stammering bottom lip and your pathetic snivels.
“No one?” He asks, tone strict.
The ropes dig further into your skin at your heaved sob.
“I just got lost!”
Your captor laughs again, deep and weighty, a sound that makes your insides twist and forces another whine from your lips.
“I have to admit-”
The cocky smirk on his lips is palpable, dripping from his words and searing your skin on contact.
“I was hoping you would make this difficult for me, liebling.”
You flinch when a large, coarse glove gently melds the side of your face, a gentle thumb hooking underneath your jaw to keep your head titled up at him.
“Usually I prefer more -”
He hums in the tune of condescension as he chooses his next words.
“- Standard methods of torture - ”
He ignores your squirms and your nearly unintelligible, breathy pleas, his hand keeping your head firmly in place.
“But it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to play with a toy as pretty as you.”
Your body stills, breaths ceasing and heart pounding against your restraints at the implication of his threatening words - spoken with an arrogant, yet eerily soft tongue.
Your captor’s gloved thumb grazes over your chin, pulling down on your plush bottom lip and watching it spring into place once released. He guides your face to the side, soft fabric smoothing against your skin as he places a lingering, clothed kiss on your cheek.
The heart beating furiously in your chest halts at the sound of his pant zipper coming undone.
When he pulls away, he keeps his low, whispered words right in your ear.
“Maybe if I take that sweet little voice away from you, you’ll be eager to use it when I give it back.”
