Taming Tammy

Day One
Liz harried down the rain-soaked boulevard, her quick steps echoing through the empty darkness. It had gotten delayed without her realizing it, and the Seattle streets were very gloom and silent.
Glass crunched under her heels and she looked up. Fishing the keys out of her reward and holding them in her hand, she began to stride more briskly. The pelt on her narrow part tingled as she felt a apparition, but she was afraid to turn and gaze. Weird strange shadows danced in the corners of her imagination, and she could go sour fear at the back of her tongue. It happened with terrifying dispatch. The man lifted her off her feet just as the van door opened on her gone; very strong, he handled her straightforwardly. A hand sheltered her mouth before the scream could way. Other hands grabbed her from inside the van and pinned her to the stump. Her arms were safe to her side. It was testing to even breathe. More hands apprehended her ankles together as she tried to kick uncontrolled. The door slammed loudly and the forefront began moving.
men juice
Before she could cry out or even extract a breath the guy on top of her pulled her cranium up and hard-pressed a foul-smelling cloth against her opening and nose. The gentleman continued to hold the cloth tightly against her means of access. She bucked frantically, pinned beneath his weight. The pressure of the rag on her tackle was unyielding; she was totally helpless.
Finally, the pressure in her chest mounting, her lungs suppliant for air, she was forced to draw a deep, ragged breath. The nauseous fumes swirled through her rule and she fought the wave of blackness. The male continued to hold the cloth over her face, his grip hardnosed. Another breath and she felt herself go absolutely limp, she was slipping over the limit into blackness, she couldn't clash it any longer….
Liz struggled for consciousness, swimming from a great depth trying to reach the surface.
With unexpected clarity she remembered the forefront, and the men, and she snapped up to pitch-blackness. Her cranium throbbed with a dull smart. Moving her hands, she could ascertain she was duplicity on a small bed with a metal frame, almost a folding bed, with a coarse blanket fearful over her. The mattress was thin and lumpy. Reaching down, she felt a steel thwart around her right ankle. Following the shackle with her fingers, she could discriminate it was safe to the frame of the twin bed with a trivial padlock.
Her eyes overwrought for even the slightest morsel of light. Feeling with her hands, she crawled off the twin bed onto the floor. The chain was only about two feet lingering, so her abandon was quite limited. She tried to move the foundation but it wouldn't shift. It had been bolted to the stump. She tried spinning two of the bolts with her petite fingers but they had been tightened with a wrench; it was impossible to loosen them.
Reaching in front of her in the darkness, she crawled not here from the floor as far as she could. With her ankle chained she was obligatory to stretch gracelessly, one leg pulled behind her, hands in front of her in the darkness. She could find nothing else within her reach, just the patch, the floor, the stockade.
The complete blackness was disorienting; little bursts of color flashed in front of her as she overwrought to see. Liz bunged her eyes and climbed back up on the mattress, pulling the blanket around her. Wherever she had been in use, it was evidently a place where she could scream all she hunted and it would do no accomplished. There was nothing, only the thudding of her own mind and the clatter of the metal bind when she encouraged. The come to darkness, the silence, was unfair, and she fought not to panic.
Carefully she felt the restriction around her ankle. It was hinged on one side with a tiny keyhole lock on the other. The procession was attached to the metal slap with a small swivel attachment. The rounded steel made an inflexible group around her ankle, hard-boiled and unyielding. It seized her slim ankle without a glitch in its grasp. She tried to press it down off her base but only succeeded in scraping herself. Becoming frantic, she pulled at the bind. She broken up against the metal with her fist, tearing the skin on her knuckle, the tears welling in her eyes.
Liz chop back on the floor, gasping. She had almost at sea it. Of track she could not get the metal slap from around her ankle.
There was a bang from somewhere remote the room, in another part of whatever construction she was being held in reserve. In a flash she heard deep voices. Although she couldn't bake out what they were adage, it sounded similar two men, getting closer to her. She uninitiated back on the mattress with the blanket around her and blocked her eyes, irritating to control her breathing.
She heard the sound of a door being unlocked, then opened. Even with her eyes blocked, she could caution that a luminosity had been bowed on. Peeking through slitted lids she maxim a tall stature, a man. He had his arms folded and seemed to be looking at her. Liz tried not to shake.
"Come on, I realize you're awake, blondie." His say-so was deep and multinational. "Get up and let's have a discussion about a few equipment."
Liz opened her eyes, then sat up on the bed, squinting from the luminosity in the opportunity, as she detained the blanket tightly around her. The guy was wearing a mask casing the top half of his visage. He was clad in a T-shirt and jeans, and cowboy boots, his protracted hair tied in a braid. His arms were great big and muscular. She knew at once that this was the operate who had abducted her, the one who had handled her so straightforwardly. He was doubtless the one who had stripped her naked and chained her to this foundation. She was his locked up. The walls were irregular wood, unfinished. There was a trivial table and a take the chair against the wall, near the entry. Probably a cabin, she realized, looking at the planks on the walls and the unfinished ground. There was a carafe of water and a flute on the desk and she unexpectedly realized how incredibly dry she was. "A little dehydrated, are you?" he asked. "It's a side appearance of the chloroform. Would you reminiscent of some water? She tried to encounter the stranger's eyes, but couldn't. Her hand was shaking as she took it from him. Briefly, their fingers touched. Holding the blanket strict around her mass, she drank the fill up, guzzling it down. Some of the fill up ran out the side of her means of access and down her narrow part.

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