I Don’t know how it happened. I’m not supposed to be the one to worry about getting caug
I Don’t know how it happened. I’m not supposed to be the one to worry about getting caught. He’s the married one. We had just finished going at it like rabbits. He had gone and I was alone, having a cigarette, enjoying the after glow of a forbidden tryst. There was a knock at the hotel room door. I thought my lover had returned for a bit more sinful fun. When I opened the door, a strange man and woman pushed their way in. The man grabbed both my wrists in one massive hand and clamped the other hand over my mouth. The woman pulled a large coil of rope and a roll of athletic tape from her oversized purse. “I’m the wife of you’re boyfriend you little whore” she hissed “ and you’re going to regret it, bitch”! Now I’m locked in the back of the man’s van, bound, unable to get free and unable to cry for help, or for that matter, beg for my life. Fear creeps in as I realize no one can hear me, no one can help me, and no one knows where I am. -- source link