Chapter One

 

Angie groaned loudly as the fat man fondled her breasts. She tried desperately to get her hands free, but the silk scarves affixing them to the bed posts were too tightly tied for her to move them. She moaned in pain as the man pumped harder, then shrieked as he came. She finally allowed herself to relax as he rolled off her body and pulled on his pants. Thank God that's over! She thought.

Then another man appeared, grinned at her, and dropped his pants alongside the bed. This can't be happening, she told herself as the new man thrust into her. How could he do this to me?

He was Conrad Martin-someone she had met quite inadvertently-seated next to one another during an Ed Wood Horror film festival in the MOMA-the Museum of Modern Art. They exchanged few words that night-but discovered they shared a fondness for bad horror films and good cartoons. A second meeting, this time at a Film Forum event, led to the exchange of phone numbers and, as time passed, the occasional meeting for coffee. Those meetings became more and more regular, evolved into lunch and, seemingly inevitably, a long, stolen afternoon in a downtown hotel.

That afternoon chanced Angie's life.

She'd married for love-her husband was a kind and generous man-but in bed, he was tentative and meek. Conrad was very different-he was strong, decisive-and extremely active and aggressive in bed. He used Angie roughly-and she found herself responding enthusiastically.

A month passed, during which their connection grew deeper-Angie was excited by Conrad's dominance, and the two began to meet more and more often-twice, three times a week in a variety of hotels.

When Angie met a family friend in the one of the hotel they'd been frequenting, they switched their activities to her New York apartment. She realized that there was some danger-her husband worked close by and had been known to pop in for a shared lunch or quick visit without advance warning, but Angie now couldn't live without Conrad-and the sexual release he gave her.

She suggested having their 'meetings' at Conrad's place --but he told her he shared it with a roommate and a couple of cats-which he knew she was allergic to.

After a very close call, they decided to take a long weekend trip of some kind-somewhere far enough away that her husband could not possibly interrupt them.

Providentially, that same week, Angie's husband informed her that he would be working very late-perhaps through the night-over the coming weekend. There was an inventory that had to be completed, and he'd been nominated to do the work.

When she suggested that she might go away to Atlantic City over that weekend, leaving the apartment free for him to drop by when he had time with no concerns about waking her up, even in the middle of the night, he'd been more than happy to let her go. On Friday morning, he got up early and dropped her at the Port Authority to catch a bus to the resort, handing her a few hundred dollars to, as he put it, 'blow on the tables'.

Conrad met her at the door to the Casino-- and the two of them spent Friday night in long, sweaty, explorations of each other. Angie managed three orgasms before falling into a dreamless-and very contented--sleep.

Saturday had been very different. After a quiet brunch on the patio of their suite, Conrad checked them out and drove them to a rather seedy motel on the very edge of the town. The dingy and dangerous look of the place excited Angie-until Conrad told her that he was going to bring in a friend-and he expected her to entertain him.

Of course, she refused-but refusal, in Conrad's eyes, was not an option. He slapped her hard, and when she tried to fight back, tied her hands to the top of the bedstead with some silk scarves he happened to have with him. His 'friend' had arrived soon after and Angie, unable to resist, quickly gave him what he wanted.

Afterward, Conrad told her that he had other friends on the way-and that she had better do a better job with them than she had with the first one! Angie started to cry-and threatened to scream. That was when Conrad produced a little wooden wand-and slapped it hard against her right breast.

Angie did scream then-loud and earnestly-but Conrad stuffed her own used panties into her mouth-and struck her again-and again-and again.

Angie had always had very sensitive breasts. The pain of that little wand was more than she could bear. After ten such strokes, she was ready to beg Conrad to allow her to do anything he wanted-but she couldn't say anything, she could just lay there, splayed across the bed, crying and moaning, while he struck her ten more times.

Afterwards, she was careful to give his 'friends' as much attention as she could-even with her hands still pinioned to the top of the bed. She was used over and over, throughout Saturday and most of Sunday. Finally, late Sunday night, it stopped. Conrad brought a nice meal into the bedroom, and Angie thought for a moment that the nightmare was over.

She was wrong. He didn't even think about releasing her-instead, he spread the food out on her naked body and began to eat, using a sharp serrated blade to cut the steak-the edge just touching her shrinking flesh each time he used it.

Angie froze, too frightened to move, and listened as he told her about his plans for them. Her body, he told her, was perfect for the kind of Johns she had been seeing-they liked having sex with a bound woman. He would also 'star' her in a series of online films that featured-he squeezed her nipple between thumb and forefinger, touched it with the blade-whips. He smiled at the thought, sending a shiver through her.

Whips and Chains.

Eventually, he told her, when her looks finally faded, he would get rid of her.

Angie cried herself to sleep-only to be awakened hours later when Conrad thrust into her and took his own pleasure. When she awoke, she was still tied to the bed, still covered with the remains of that meal.

But along with the meal, something else was still on the bed-the knife and fork Conrad had used to serve himself were lying at the base of the mattress-not far from her feet! Angie used every bit of strength she had left to grasp the steak knife with her toes and bend her legs back far enough to transfer the utensil to her tied hands.

She could barely feel the cold metal, but she bit her lip and gripped as hard as she could, sawing at the silk holding her wrists to the bed until, suddenly and without warning, they parted, freeing her.

When Conrad came back into the room, she was on her feet, holding the knife in front of her in both hands, swearing to use it. He laughed at her, told her he knew that she would never have the nerve to hurt him-and took a long step forward, informing her of what he would now do to her as a punishment while they waited for the day's customers. Then he would try some new positions on her-things one of two of the new men would want to try out-painful for her, but then, he didn't really care...

The self-assurance on his face was shattered when the point of the knife sliced into his belly.

Angie was shocked when the blood spurted. She had never hurt anyone before-but that all changed in an instant. All thought fled as she used the weapon on her tormentor, cutting, stabbing, trying her best to wipe away the image of the man who had abused her love and trust so horribly.

She finally slowed down and stopped-her arm too tired to move anymore. Reason returned-and she was horrified by what she found. She was covered, face to feet, in blood-and Conrad...

She raced to the bathroom, flopped in front of the toilet and spewed out the contents of her stomach-afterwards; she just crouched there, shivering uncontrollably.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she forced herself to get up and shuffle to the shower, turning the water on full-as hot as it would go. Still shivering, she got in and began to wash off the blood and semen, sobbing as she scrubbed her battered flesh over and over and over...

When she regained the self- control to do so, she dressed and sneaked down the hall of the motel, searching for a maid- service area. There was one near the elevator, and it yielded a linen cart which she pushed back and into her room. Stripping again, she emptied the cart and manhandled Conrad's body into the base of the thing, dumping the sheets and towels on top of the corpse.

With the body hidden in the cart, she dressed and packed her things, then shoved the cart out the door, guiding it to the rear of Conrad's car-and dumped his body into the trunk. Sobbing again, she climbed into the shiny yellow Porsche and sorted through his keys, finally finding the one that fit the ignition. She'd wondered how he could afford a car like this when she first saw it-now, after her experiences of the past few days, she knew.

The car started up immediately, and Angie streaked out of the motel parking lot, kicking up enough gravel to rattle windows throughout the complex. Her only thought was to get to one of the rest stops on the Garden State Parkway-she could abandon the car and catch a bus home from there. Home... that was all that was on her mind. She never gave a thought to the fingerprints and DNA evidence she'd left behind-all she cared about was getting away from this horrible place just as quickly as she could.

She turned onto Albany Avenue and put her foot down-hard.