He moved around, pulled the belt forward; it bit her skin, stretched her spine. He tied it fast. It's better with the belt, she thought. He kicked her feet apart. The straps were fastened about her ankles. He brought his chair around and sat behind. “Try to relax.” And his fingers were at her crotch. A quick snap and he tore her underpants. They dropped about an ankle. Her thighs began to quiver when his hands came up between her legs. “C'mon. You can do this,” he whispered. “Just let everything go. Set yourself free.” She closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in his words. He was stroking her lower back with one hand and had reached around with the other; fingers playing in the thick patchwork of hair. He was so close his breath tickled her bottom and despite the bite of the belt, she snugged toward him. The cramp took her by complete surprise. It was deep down in her gut; a jab so sharp, she thought she had been cut. Her back arched with a contraction that turned her bowel. Jasmine saw no movement along the line of shelves and she re-checked the area away from the door. Cautiously, Jasmine arose and stealthily went to the door. It was a windowless entry that looked very solid. Jasmine reached out to grip the door's chromed knob, but quickly pulled her hand back, as she found it to be cold and wet.Looking down at the flagstones leading away from the doorway, the frightened female's fears were solidified. A trail of wet footprints led away from the door. The wet spoor on the slate slabs was pointing towards the front of the shop where she had been. Someone had just come through here, and Jasmine suspected that it was the elderly yard-worker. Her opinion of him had mutated from sympathetic to annoying, and now, to ominously evil. What exactly were his intentions? Jasmine tried the doorknob again, but as she suspected, it was locked.The captive woman strained her ears to hear any sound at all beyond the thrumming of rain on the building. It was a fruitless.
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