Tessa fought the ropes!
They cut into her wrists and ankles, yet she strained and twisted, desperately trying to free herself. She had screamed into the gag! Curses, pleas for release, and, finally, screams of outrage.
Her holiday had gone horribly wrong. She had taken a wrong turning from her hotel, trying to find the museum. Instead, she had found a narrow alley, and three young thugs. Now she was in a tiny room, bare but for a mattress on the floor, and a bucket. A foul smelling, none too clean bucket.
She was naked! They had laughed at her struggles as they stripped the clothing from her, remarking on the quality and the price the items would fetch in the second hand market. The ropes had been removed, only to be replaced by these cold, unforgiving steel fetters. A steel collar! All of them connected by chains. This was beyond a joke!
One of the thugs had informed her, gleefully, that she would be packed into a container with several others and flown to Mali. Mali? Where the fuck was Mali? “They have a nice brothel there,” he chortled, “staffed by people like you. Rich, arrogant white women.”
She tugged at the fetters. The steel so hard! So cold! So unforgiving! And yet…so right! The cold, hard steel seemed the perfect complement to her soft, warm, naked flesh.
Mali? Where was Mali?
Why was she so excited? Why was she so wet?
