Best Laid Plans

by Jack Patrick

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© Copyright 2023 - Jack Patrick - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; kidnap; cuffs; zipties; gag; blindfold; cell; strip; nc; XX

It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now Colleen felt like an idiot. No, worse than an idiot. She felt like an impulsive child, and that feeling embarrassed her more than any feelings of being labeled an idiot. As the van drove away and left her by her SUV on the side of the interstate, Colleen thought about what led him to this embarrassing place.

Colleen Bens was a 27-year-old police detective, who was currently assigned to the Missing Persons Unit in the Jacksonville Police Department in Jacksonville, Florida. She joined the agency after she graduated from the University of Florida with a degree in Criminal Justice and a minor in Psychology. Colleen was also a three sports player all four years while at school, playing softball, volleyball and basketball.

Colleen had been with the PD for six years, and she had recently discovered a string of disappearances that she believed were related. Seven young women, all in their twenties or early thirties, had gone missing over the past two years and had not been seen since. All were last seen or known to be located near Interstate 95, which ran through the east side of the city. Colleen was convinced there was a serial killer hunting in their city, and she brought her theory to her sergeant and lieutenant. She was all but laughed out of the office.

They not only did not agree with her findings, but they said there was not a shred of evidence linking the disappearances. They said she had read one too many bad detective novels, her emotions had clouded her professional judgment and she was going to cause a panic if she was allowed to publicly voice her theory to the public or media.

Colleen protested and asked that they develop an undercover deployment to see if they could get a suspect to nibble at some bait. Her bosses denied her request. They said they would not approve overtime for her “hair-brained schemes”. When she said she would do it for free and would not put in for overtime, this was when her sergeant and lieutenant started to get angry at her persistence. She was ordered to drop the matter in no uncertain terms.

Of course, Colleen Bens did not drop the matter. She devised her own plan to see if she could make the suspect, which she was sure was hunting in Jacksonville, show himself. She knew that all the previous women had gone missing between 7 pm and 3 am, all were last seen either driving on I-95 or stopped near an on ramp and none of their vehicles had ever been recovered as well.

She devised a plan to park her vehicle, a 2020 Jeep Cherokee SUV, on the side of the road with the hood up. She would stand outside the SUV so people passing by would see the occupant was a young woman and alone. She would, of course, have her service weapon concealed just in case her theory proved to be true and her suspect showed up looking to add to his collection.

Colleen picked a Friday evening for her deployment because she would not have to get up early the next morning and the traffic would be relatively heavy and steady all evening. Colleen was a very attractive woman and she was well aware of that fact. She was 5’9” with an athletic frame and thick wavy brown hair. She dressed in a form fitting white tank top, skin-tight indigo-colored jeggings, a black short moto leather jacket and black slouch booties with a three-inch heel. In the small of her back, she concealed her Glock 43 – a compact, seven-shot, 9mm handgun. In her purse, she had her badge, ID, spare magazines for the Glock and handcuffs.

She figured it might take a while, so she packed a cooler in the rear of the Cherokee filled with water, Gatorade and a few power bars. She parked the SUV in the center of the area where all the women were last seen, opened the engine hood, put on the flashers and stood outside in plain view of anyone who drove by.

When it was almost midnight, Colleen had been there for almost five hours, and she thought she had met everyone traveling on I-95 except her phantom serial killer! At least 20 vehicles had stopped to check on her. Three very buff state troopers, a slimy road ranger who seemed more interested in her boots than her broken down SUV and every guy who was not driving with his wife at that moment in time. Most were pure lecherous – especially the state troopers! The Road Ranger, the person paid to help stranded motorists, kept staring at Colleen’s boots and complimented about them incessantly. Many men, civilians, stopped and offered to help. Unfortunately, none were more than guys with overactive sex drives and/or imaginations. Some, she was sure, were truly trying to be Good Samaritans. She let them all know her boyfriend was on his way to get her or that she had called Triple A, and most left without much urging. A few needed to be told several times that she had help coming. She had even gotten three phone numbers “just in case you change your mind…”

Collen was starting to realize why her supervisors had denied her request and thought her idea of a serial killer was fanciful. She knew they were right. She knew she had let her imagination and her emotions get the better of her. She started to close the engine hood when a panel van pulled in directly behind her. The van had pervert written all over it and Colleen’s senses went into overdrive. The drivers’ door opened and the driver stepped out.

He was a large man – at least six-feet tall and well over 200 pounds. He was wearing a blue work shirt and pants with stained work boots. His hair was shoulder length and dirty and his beard was unkempt. This had to be her guy!

“You okay, miss?” he asked as he slowly approached her.

Colleen bladed her body to the man and got ready to draw her pistol if needed. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “My truck just died. I have Triple A coming. Should be here soon.”

He nodded and looked at his watch and then at her. “I can take a look at it if you want.”

Colleen feigned looking at her watch and said, “Thank you but Triple A should be here soon. I appreciate it.”

The man nodded and turned around. “Suit yourself, miss. Have a good weekend.”

He walked toward the open driver’s door of the van, and Colleen kept expecting him to turn around suddenly and abruptly attack her, but he ambled up into the driver’s seat, closed the door and pulled into traffic.

Now here was Colleen. Watching the van pull into traffic and feeling childish and idiotic beyond words. What the hell was I thinking?! she thought.

She decided right there and then that she was done with this Cagney and Lacey bullshit. She was going home and was going to lock herself in her apartment for the weekend and drink several bottles of wine! Colleen spun around, intent on slamming the hood down and getting out of there as quickly as humanly possible with what little of her dignity she had intact and was staring eye to eye with a thin man in a yellow safety jacket. It was the slimy Road Ranger guy who kept gawking at her footwear hours ago.

Colleen was so startled by his sudden appearance that she gasped and jumped back. Her right hand instinctively went to her chest and she uttered, “You scared the shit out of me!”

When his right hand extended toward Colleen’s head, she noticed he was holding a small canister. He depressed the button and liquid sprayed into Colleen’s eyes and on her face. The pepper spray forced Colleen’s eyes to shut tight and her face burned. She unconsciously covered her face with her hands and tried to open her eyes. Pain flashed through her orbital sockets and she was forced to keep her eyes tightly shut.

Before Colleen could react, she was punched hard in the solar plexus, forcing all the air from her lungs instantly. She collapsed to her knees and was immediately grabbed by the back of her neck and forced face first into the grass beside her SUV. Her head impacted with the ground and she saw stars behind her shut eyelids.

The man straddled her by sitting on the small of her back – directly on top of the concealed pistol in her waistband. Though the pepper spray, the gut punch and the impact of her head to the ground had seriously dazed her, she still reached her right hand back in an attempt to retrieve the handgun. Her wrist was grabbed, something encircled her wrist and she heard a zipping sound. She felt something loosely encompass her wrist, as her right arm was wrenched upward by the plastic restraint now slackly around her right wrist. Her arm was painfully held straight upward and behind her prone body.

Oh shit! she thought. Plastic handcuffs, flexcuffs, zip-ties, cable ties! This guy is trying to restrain me!

She knew she needed to get that pistol, so she reached her left hand back toward the small of her back to try and get the weapon, but that wrist was immediately snatched as well. Colleen tried in vain to get her left hand free from the man’s iron grip and get it under her jacket, and under the man’s rump, to grab the handle of the Glock, but her right wrist was violently pulled down toward the small of her back. Her left wrist was unceremoniously forced into the cable tie enclosing her right wrist, and the man grabbed all her fingers in one of his hands and squeezed them tightly and painfully together. Her hands were held together in the small of her back as if she were praying. Then a zipping sound echoed in her ears as her wrists was painfully and forcefully secured tightly together. A second cable tie was quickly wrapped around the original plastic cuff and zipped down tightly, cinching the restraint between her wrists.

In desperation, she yanked at the plastic zip-ties, but they were torqued down excruciatingly snug and she knew she could not free herself. She also knew she was not only right about a predator hunting in this area, but that she was in serious trouble because she was the guy’s next victim.

She felt the man nimbly spun around, grabbed both of her feet and pulled them up toward her rump. Then, again, that loud zipping sound as her ankles were tightly bound together. The zip-tie was over her boots, but the soft leather did not impede the restraint as her feet were wrenched firmly together. Her ankles were now as incapacitated as her wrists.

Then, the man spun around again, facing her head she assumed. He grabbed her hair and pulled upward. She yelled in pain as a large wad of cloth was forcefully shoved into her mouth. Next, she felt what she thought was tape being wrapped over her mouth and around her lower head several times, effectively gagging her. Then she heard the tape rip off the roll again, and he covered her burning, locked-down, closed eyes with a strip.

“Just to be sure,” she heard him muttering, more to himself than to her.

Then she felt him scoot himself down to where he was sitting on her lower butt cheeks and lifted up the hem of her leather moto jacket. The Glock was plucked out of her waistband and Colleen realized this thing had gone from bad to worse.

“I was wondering what you had there, little lady,” he said playfully. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t play with guns. It’s undignified and unlady-like.”

The man finally got off Colleen’s rump and walked away. It was hard to determine his location, with her eyes blinded by pepper spray and taped over and the traffic noise from passing cars, but she thought he went toward the rear of the Cherokee. The traffic has lightened up since she first arrived, but there was still a steady flow. Maybe someone saw the commotion and called 911, but then what little hope she had deflated. Colleen knew that what had happened was shielded from anyone driving along the interstate by her Cherokee.

She thought she heard the hatchback to the Cherokee open, and then the man was back at her side. A few moments went by as nothing happened, but then he grabbed her, pulled her to her feet and placed her bound form over his shoulder. He walked quickly and she was dumped in what she realized was the open rear compartment of her SUV.

Her zip-tied ankles were bent back toward her fanny, and she felt him lace something between the plastic strap around her booted feet. Then her bound wrists were also pulled back and that infernal zipping sound as her ankles and hands were hogtied together with another zip-tie. She then heard the retractable rear cargo area cover shade being pulled forward and locked into place. Colleen knew this would ensure people in a large truck or semi would not be able to see her if they passed by close enough to view the rear cargo area of the Cherokee. Then the hatchback door slammed shut.

Colleen heard what she figured was the engine hood being slammed shut. Then she heard what she assumed was the door to the driver’s seat open and slam shut. After a few moments, the vehicle rumbled to life. Her Cherokee had a push start, and her key fob was in her purse which was currently sitting on the passenger seat. All this crazy bastard had to do was push the starter button and they were off to the races. She felt the vehicle pull off the shoulder and into traffic.

Colleen’s face was still burning from the dose of pepper spray she had taken to the face and eyes, but that discomfort was secondary to the fear that now overwhelmed her. She struggled briefly to free herself, but this guy had wrenched the zip-ties so damn tight, there was no possible way she could slip free.

She rolled onto her side in an attempt to alleviate the intense pain in her wrists and shoulders and bumped into the cooler she had packed. She thought that maybe there was something inside that would help her get loose, but that optimism quickly diminished when she realized only plastic bottles, foil wrapped power bars and ice were contained inside.

Just beneath the fear that she fought to keep in check, unless it entirely consumed her, she chastised her own stupidity. Not just for attempting this unsanctioned, one-person police deployment against her supervisors’ orders, but how she reacted during the incident on the side of the road. Her mind was on other things when she spun around and came face to face with the Road Ranger guy. He had startled her so badly that she had forgotten all her training and the situation she had put herself into. Instead of going for her pistol, she had gasped and jumped in surprise. She never realized what the pepper spray canister was until she was already sprayed. Then before Colleen knew it, she was completely immobilized. She had not realized her hands were bound securely behind her back until the deed was done and the guy had already secured her ankles. Her face and eyes were on fire when he pulled her hair painfully and the rag was shoved into her mouth. After the tape completing the gag and blindfold were applied, she was completely immobile and trying to catch her breath, when he picked her up and tossed her in the rear compartment of her Cherokee and hogtied her. The entire incident took less than five minutes when she first saw him to when she was hogtied in the rear of her own vehicle.

Her wrists were cut and chaffed where the tight plastic bands were biting into her wrists. Her ankles were saved from that because they were applied over her boots, but the soft leather boots offered no space between the zip-ties and her skin. Unless she got a knife or scissors or someone came to her rescue, Colleen knew for certain that she could not escape her bondage.

The gag was effective in its simplicity. The only sounds that she could manage were “mmmppfff” and grunts. More noise came from her nostrils as she attempted to breathe through her stuffy nose and the heavy residue fumes from pepper spray. Her blindfold, tape over the eyes, was grossly effective but unnecessary considering she had not been able to open her eyes since the pepper spray got her. Any attempt to crack her eyes open in the slightest was met with an intense burning pain like molten pins and needles being stuck in her eyes. And because of her training with pepper spray, she knew her eyes would be locked down for at least an hour.

The Road Ranger guy? He was the second person to stop at her faux disabled Cherokee. He was a creep, but Colleen never got the vibe that he was a danger to her. He did not appear well built or strong. He was at least two inches shorter than her, and he had a thin frame. Yeah, he continually stared at her boots and complimented her choice of shoes, but he did not gawk at her body like so many others had done this day. Hell, two of the three state troopers who had stopped practically had undressed her with their eyes! But she never thought this man was a threat. She sized him up and figured she could easily take him one on one if necessary. She easily dismissed him, and now she was hogtied and gagged in the back of her SUV going to God only knows where with him and no one would miss her for at least 48 hours.

After a long while, at least an hour, but probably more Colleen surmised, the pepper spray went from an intense burn to a mild pain. Like a minor sunburn. Her eyes no longer greeted her with fiery pain when she attempted to open them, but the tape made sure she could not see anything regardless. Colleen had stopped struggling long before the burn on her face waned because her wrists were in pure agony. The plastic restraints were applied so tight that her hands had fallen asleep after only ten minutes in the hogtie.

She could tell by the Road Ranger’s driving, that they had finally pulled off the interstate and were traveling on local roads. Then, after at least 30 more minutes, the road appeared to go from level and paved to unpaved with a noticeable incline. Colleen could not think of any place in Jacksonville, except for the numerous bridges, that had such a conspicuous ascent. This ramped up her anxiety even more because she had no idea where he had taken her, but they were nowhere near Jacksonville.

After at least another fifteen minutes on this unpaved and gradual ascent, the Cherokee finally stopped and the engine shut off. She heard the driver’s door open and shut and then the hatchback opened and the cargo cover was moved back revealing Colleen in all her glory. At first nothing happened. Colleen pictured him just staring at her bound body and taking it all in.

Then the zip-tie that had her in the hogtie was cut away, and her bound ankles flopped to the floor of the cargo area. Colleen moaned in relief as some of the discomfort she had been enduring had dissipated slightly. Before she could do anything else, her bound ankles were grabbed and she was dragged out of the open hatch. She was, quickly and roughly, flopped over his shoulder, as she heard the hatchback door slam closed and they started walking somewhere.

He said as he began to walk, “Please don’t give me any trouble unless you want more pepper spray and to get body slammed on the hard ground.”

Colleen had thought about kicking but she was physically spent, stiff and sore. Also, she knew she could not defend herself appropriately in her current predicament. She needed to bide her time and wait for an opportunity to exploit an opening – assuming her captor would mistakenly give her that opening…

She felt herself being carried around on what seemed like uneven terrain, but then she heard a door squeak open on its rusty hinges. He carried her inside, and she heard the door close behind them. He was walking on what sounded like a wooden floor. Then he stopped, and she heard what sounded like three locks disengaging. Then the sound of another door with rusty hinges opened. Next, she was being carried down a flight of creaky stairs. She lost count of the steps after the tenth one but soon they were on level ground and he carried her forward several paces and stopped. After a few seconds, she heard what sounded like a cell door opening. He walked forward and the cell door sound occurred again. As if the door was now closing shut behind them. Trying to process what was happening, Colleen was gently placed in what felt like a plush, comfortable chair.

Scissors then cut away the tape that encircled her lower face and the wad of cloth was pulled from her mouth. Immediately, a bottle was placed to her lips, and Colleen drank the cold water greedily. When the bottle quickly emptied, it was pulled from her lips and the tape was ripped from over her eyes. The light was dim, so she did not have to wait for her eyes to become adjusted to the light. She looked at the Road Ranger, who took a seat opposite her about ten feet away.

He was still dressed in his Road Ranger yellow reflective safety windbreaker and work pants. He had a sardonic grin on his face. Colleen looked away from him and around the room. She was in a 12x12 room with concrete floors and cinder block walls. The ceiling appeared to be wooden – possibly railroad ties – and there were no windows. A single dim light fixture was inset into the ceiling and the two chairs were the only furniture in the room. To her left, Colleen saw a rolling steel prison-type cell door and behind that she could see the wooden steps that he had apparently taken her down upon their arrival. The cell door had a numeric keypad attached. She would need the combination if she was to get through that door.

She looked back at her captor, who still sported the smile. At his feet, she spied her purse, which had been sitting on the front passenger seat of her Cherokee. Without looking at it, he reached down and picked it up by the strap and placed it in his lap. She saw a roll of black duct tape on the floor that had been concealed by her purse.

Colleen was beyond frightened, but she tried her best to sound confident when she said, “You need to think hard about what you’re doing and let me go. When the police get here, you want me to be able to say that you had a change of heart and were not planning on hurting me.”

He put his hand up like a traffic cop stopping oncoming vehicles. Colleen stopped talking because the gesture just seemed so out of place.

He cleared his throat and said, “I took the gag off so we could chat and you could get some water, but do not mistake my kindness for weakness or stupidity.”

“I don’t think you’re being weak or stupid…” Colleen blurted.

He held up his hand again in that stop gesture, and Colleen fell silent.

“I want to chat with you,” he said, “and you’re going to answer several questions. Truthfully, I might add. If you start to bother me with dumb, inane questions or you get belligerent, I’m going to gag you again. Am I making myself clear?”

Colleen sighed a ragged breath that she hoped did not show how scared she actually was, and then she nodded.

He smiled again. “Excellent. First, the police will not be coming to your rescue. No one saw me take you and I destroyed your cell phone and threw it out the window right after we drove off. There’s no way anyone can track you.”

Colleen had not even thought about her cell phone, but apparently this man had. The fear was building within her and it took all her willpower to hold it together.

He continued, “I had the chance while we were enjoying our leisurely drive here to peruse through your purse. I found a lot of interesting tidbits in there about you, Miss Colleen Delaney Bens. That’s the name on your driver's license. That is correct, is it not?”

Colleen nodded again.

“Your license was, as you know, in your wallet,” he said. “Beside your keys and some makeup, I pulled out a pair of shiny metal handcuffs.”

He reached into the purse and pulled out the silver handcuffs. He looked at them like they were the most amusing thing he had seen all day.

“I thought I had a kinky one on my hands,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Maybe I would have one who would thoroughly enjoy the fun times we were about to have together, because, unfortunately, most do not enjoy what happens here other than me.”

Colleen swallowed hard involuntarily.

“I love the hinge-style cuffs,” he continued as he studied Colleen’s handcuffs in his hand. “As long as you place the keyhole facing away from the fingers, there’s no possible way someone can get them off. Even if they have the keys, and your handcuff key is on your keyring. Still, if you have one hidden on your person – and if you do, I will find it shortly – you still won’t be able to get them off without some assistance.”

“Mister,” Colleen said in a voice that even sounded frightened to her, “you’re going to…”

He shushed her and glanced at the duct tape at his feet. “Do I need to gag you again?”

Colleen shook her head.

“Good,” he said. “Anyway, I figured you were a kinky lady until I came across this.”

He placed the handcuffs back in the purse and pulled out a billfold and opened it. Inside was Colleen’s police department ID card and her badge.

“I apologize for calling you Miss earlier,” he said. “You are Detective Colleen Delaney Bens of the Jacksonville Police Department. Are you not?”

Colleen averted her eyes as she nodded again.

He laughed. “When I saw the badge, I started looking in the rearview mirror expecting to see blue lights as the police cruisers closed in…but nothing. You apparently had no backup. You were out there alone. By yourself. Why?”

Colleen pulled at her zip-tied wrists involuntarily and then answered, “My Cherokee just stopped and…”

His hand went up again. “I did say I wanted the truth, did I not?”

Colleen nodded nervously.

“Let me tell you what I know for a fact, Detective Colleen Bens,” he said. “I saw you this evening on the side of the road and knew I had to at least try to make you my newest toy. I might have tried to grab you right then, but that muscle headed trooper showed up and was too busy trying to get into your pants. He dismissed me and made sure I was leaving.”

Colleen remembered the encounter. She had never thought this guy would have tried to assault her. He gave off creepy vibes for sure, but he was not an imposing figure. The trooper had seemed much worse. That trooper had been flaunting his sexuality and was more interested in getting a date instead of helping a stranded motorist.

“Still, I kept driving by to see if you had any assistance show up,” he said, “but no one ever showed up. I contacted Triple A to see if a request had been made by someone at your location, but they had no record of a request. No boyfriend showed up even after several hours. I mean, how long does it take a boyfriend to arrive on the side of the road to assist his stranded lover?

“And I knew the SUV was running,” he said. “Twice when I went by, I saw you sitting in the driver’s seat with the doors closed and all the windows up. I assumed you were getting some heat to ward off the chilly night air. So, I knew the Cherokee wasn’t disabled, and I knew you were intentionally out there for hours. I even parked my work truck at the lot and caught a ride nearby where I watched you from the tree line. I saw you start the SUV up at least once while I waited. I figured that you just wanted to meet me.”

Colleen had no idea what to say. She stammered, “I…I just…my car…”

His hand went up again and she fell silent.

“I was making my way toward you when that panel van stopped,” he said. “You should’ve accepted his help, Detective Colleen Bens. I was able to sneak right up on you with my little bag of supplies, and here we both are.”

Colleen pulled at her restrained wrists again and whimpered, “Please….”

He dropped her billfold into the purse and pulled the compact 9mm from the front of his waistband. He held it up to her and said, “You put this in the wrong place, didn’t you?”

Colleen just stared at her pistol thinking about what he just said.

“If you had it hidden in the front of your pants, this might have ended completely differently,” he said with a giggle. “Unfortunately, I sat right on the gun and you, while groping for it, actually placed your hands right in the cable ties I was trying to get around your wrist! It’s like you wanted to be bound inescapably and taken by me…”

Colleen shook her head side to side and cursed her stupidity.

He leaned forward, as he placed the Glock back into his waistband, and said, “But my one question is why were you out there all alone? Why did you intentionally park along the interstate and wait when there was no reason to do such a thing?”

Colleen closed her eyes and tried to formulate her words. Then it came bubbling forth in an unstoppable tsunami. She told him everything. She told him about the theory she had developed and when no one would believe her, she decided to take matters into her own hands. At the end, she hung her head in defeat and tried her best to not start sobbing.

“Well, Detective Colleen Bens,” he said after a long silence, “I’m impressed with your deductive reasoning, but there have been more than seven women over that time span.”

Colleen’s head snapped up.

He smiled. “Far more.”

“What did you do with them?” she yelled. “What are you gonna do with me?”

As Colleen’s pent up fear and anxiety finally forced itself to the surface, she pulled violently at her wrists and tried to twist her booted ankles free of the zip-tie, all to no avail. The Road Ranger removed the handcuffs from the purse, placed her purse back on the ground and picked up the roll of black duct tape. He walked toward her, but Colleen did not notice his approach because she was in full panic mode trying to get free.

He straddled her lap as he grabbed the damp wad of cloth off the floor. He shoved the cloth back into her mouth and wrapped the tape around her mouth again, efficiently gagging her.

Colleen was begging him to release her. She was promising she would not tell a soul of what had happened, but nothing she said could be understood. The man grabbed her face in his hands, kissed Colleen on the lips over the duct tape and leaned into her right ear.

“I want you to stand up, Colleen,” he whispered tenderly.

He got off her lap and grabbed her by the right bicep. He pulled her to her feet. The man studied her for a few moments before saying, “I love your outfit, Detective Bens, but I’ll need to remove your leather jacket. I would like a better look at my new toy.”

He dropped the roll of duct tape on the chair and removed the moto jacket from Colleen’s shoulders. He pushed the thin leather jacket to where the zip-ties had her hands secured. He gently spun her around and snapped the silver handcuffs on Colleen’s wrists, just above where the jacket was bunched. He then removed a set of shears from his work pants and cut away the zip-tie. The jacket fell to the floor, and he tightened the cuffs to ensure she could not pull her hands free.

Relief was intense and immediate as blood flow returned in a somewhat normal fashion to Colleen’s hands. She moaned in relief now that the zip-ties were finally cut away.

He stepped back and admired Colleen from different angles. He slowly whistled and said, “I love the outfit you chose for me. It’s very sexy and complementary to your gorgeous figure. You might be the most beautiful toy I’ve ever acquired. That tank top suits you well, and so do those ridiculously tight jeans you are wearing.”

She tried to plead with him but nothing coming from her gagged mouth was decipherable.

“You know,” he continued, “I normally remove my new toy’s shoes as soon as I get them here, but I must confess. I have somewhat of a boot fetish and those boots look so good on you. I think I’ll let you keep them for a little while.

“And, in case you’re wondering,” he said, “your handcuffs were placed on you with the keyhole facing away from your fingers. You’re not getting them off even if you have a key somewhere hidden on your person.”

A tear rolled down Colleen’s cheek.

“I know you’re scared, Colleen,” he whispered. “No shame in that. I feel terrible for you, but I’m willing to make a deal. Are you interested?”

Colleen stared wide-eyed and nodded.

“My dungeon, so to speak,” he said. “has one escape route. It’s not easy to find but it’s there. I’ll give you fifteen minutes. If you find it, I’ll let you go. No strings attached.”

Colleen nodded vehemently.

He smiled again. “Excellent.”

He stepped toward her and knelt at her feet. He removed the shears from his pocket again and cut away the zip-tie around her boots and ankles. He stood up and checked his watch.

“You have fifteen minutes,” he said. “Good luck.”

Colleen ran unsteady through the only other doorway in this room and entered a gloomy hallway that went forward approximately fifty feet. There were two closed doors on the right side and one on the left, and an arched opening farther down on the left. She quickly made her way to the closest door on the right side.

The door appeared to be made of sturdy wood, and there was no knob. Only a deadbolt low and high on the door. She knelt down with her back against the door and was able to disengage the lower lock. She stood up and bent over in an attempt to reach the lock which was situated higher. Her cuffed wrists were just short of the deadbolt. Colleen grunted in frustration and tried to lean on the door with her rump and get on her toes.

That’s when someone started banging on the door from the other side and a woman yelled in a frantic voice, “LET ME OUT! PLEASE, JUST LET ME OUT! I WON’T TELL ANYONE, I SWEAR TO GOD!”

Colleen lost her balance and fell to the concrete floor. She stared wide eyed at the door as the woman on the other side beat on it and begged for her release.

The man appeared in front of Colleen. He bent over, reengaged the deadbolt Colleen had unlocked and turned toward her. “Another of my toys. She’s very dramatic, but don’t worry. You’re so much prettier.”

Colleen stared at him in fear and dismay.

“He glanced at his watch. “Twelve minutes, Detective Colleen Bens. Time’s a wasting…”

Colleen struggled to her feet. Just as she turned to run, the man grabbed her by the tank top. She pulled away ferociously and the top began to rip down the seam. He pulled harder and the fabric gave way. Colleen stumbled down the hallway with only her bra covering her top.

She looked at the closed doors to her right and left and they were the same as the one with the other woman behind it. Assuming they were cells for this sick bastard’s abductees, she made her way through the archway to the left near the end of the hallway. As she entered the archway, she heard him say, “Eleven minutes, Detective Bens. Tick tock…”

The room before her caused Colleen to stop and stare. The room was 15x15 and filled with all sorts of fetish, bondage and torture devices. Chains hung from the ceiling and all sorts of whips, paddles and crops hung from all the walls.

Colleen saw another archway at the far end and ran through it. She was in another hallway similar to the first one she was in. The only difference was there were two wooden cell doors on each side and an open archway to the right and left at the end of the hall. She figured the cell doors were occupied and there was no way she could reach the upper deadbolt with her hands securely cuffed behind her back. So, Colleen ran to the end of the hallway and looked through the opening to her right. It was another torture chamber but with a multitude of different items and devices. A St Andrews cross and a rack were at the center of the room.

Colleen turned to her left and saw nothing but gloom. She walked into that room tentatively and the dim lights turned on, apparently from a motion sensor. She froze at what was before her. Along every wall, there was shelving that protruded from the walls. They appeared to be made of wood and steel-reinforced. There were nine on each wall, and each one had a mummified body wrapped in thick plastic.

“These are my toys that no longer work,” he said from behind her.

Colleen spun around and almost fell again. She knew she was close to hyperventilating and tried to slow her breathing through her nose. Colleen could notice a slight scent of rot and decay in the air. It was not overbearing but it was there.

“I keep them here so I can remember all the great times we had together,” he continued and the looked pointedly at his watch. “Nine minutes, Detective Bens.”

Colleen yelled something unintelligible into the gag as she ran by the man and into the torture chamber across the hall. There was an opening on the far side of the room which opened into yet another hallway. There were three cell doors on each side of this hallway, and an archway at the far end directly facing her. She ran down the hallway and through the arch. She found herself in a smaller room, probably 6x6, and a small door was against the far wall.

The door was only three feet tall and two feet wide. She had no idea what the door could be used for but figured if this had to be the access to the outside. Colleen would force herself to squeeze through no matter what.

She approached the small access and saw there were three deadbolts with the turn latch facing her. Colleen squatted down and was able to reach the upper most deadbolt. She gripped the turn switch and disengaged the lock. She had to sit with her back against the door to reach the other two. She grabbed the middle lock and it turned easily, but the last one did not budge.

“Fuck!” she yelled in frustration but only a grunt was audible. She gripped the turn latch again and turned with all her remaining strength. At first, nothing happened, but then, slowly, the lock began to turn and disengage. She readjusted her grip and turned with the last bit of her remaining stamina. The lock squeaked and gave way with a loud clank. The final lock was disengaged!

Colleen stood up, squatted again and grabbed the top lock latch with her hands and opened the door. She spun around, dropped to her knees and prepared to crawl as best she could through the opening, but there was only a cinder-block walk directly behind the door.

She stared in disbelief at the concrete wall in front of her.

“You’d be surprised how many of my toys actually think there’s a hidden escape route,” he said from behind her.

Colleen spun around and fell to her rump. She leaned back against the cinderblock wall behind her and looked at the man standing at the entrance to the room.

He shrugged. “I guess you ladies just want to have hope. Hope that there is a way out of this predicament…but there’s not, Detective Colleen Bens. You’re here until you join my broken toys…”

Colleen unconsciously shook her head from side to side. He began to approach her and she began kicking out with her feet in an attempt to ward him away. She connected with him twice but he eventually grabbed her by the legs and pulled her away from the wall and onto her back. He rolled her over and she heard the zipping sound as he bound her ankles together again.

He rolled her onto her back, pulled out the shears and began cutting away her skin tight jeggings. “You got me good twice, Detective. That’s why I usually take my toys’ shoes, but these boots are just so sexy.”

When the jeggings were cut off and were a pile of rags on the floor, he cut off her bra and panties. “No need for clothing anymore, but I’ll let you wear the boots for a while longer. For my enjoyment, of course. Do you know how damn sexy you look bound naked wearing only those sexy boots of yours?”

He stood up and hoisted her onto his shoulder. He had his arm draped across the back of Colleen’s knees and her head faced his back. With his free hand he tenderly rubbed her bound boot-covered feet. He carried her down the hallway a short while and stopped in front of one of the wooden cell doors. He disengaged the two deadbolts with his free hand and opened the door.

He delicately placed her down on the cold concrete floor and stood up. The cell was 10x10 and had concrete floors, cinder-block walls and the wooden railroad ties along the ceiling. The only thing in this cell was a bucket that sat in the far corner.

“You will be in bondage from now on, but you won’t be secured to this extent forever, Detective Colleen Bens,” he said as he stopped at the open door. “But I think you need some time to cool your jets and think about your situation. The sooner you come to grips with what your life has now become, the easier the transition will be. Just lie there and contemplate your new life. You now live to serve me and make me happy. Get some sleep. I’ll be down tomorrow after work and we are going to play all evening. Good night, my dearest Detective Colleen Delaney Bens.”

As he slammed the heavy oak door shut and engaged the two deadbolts, Colleen screamed into her gag.


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