Unfinished

Rj struggled against the darkness. It might have been daytime outide, but thatwas of really no concern to him. The silence of the ear plugs and muffs helped keep in the dark as much as the hood and blindfold covering his eyes. The pressure along his cheecks told him there was more wrapping outside this, but he wouldn’t know until he was able to look at the pictures.

It seemed like forever since has had seen or heard or even felt anything. Perhaps that was a good thing. Time has a way of leaving you when you enter sensory deprivation. He might have been in here two hours or ten. Tim ereally has no meaning. All he knew was that he couldn’t move.

Plastic wrap he thought. Lots of plastic wrap and tape. She always like to use the plastic wrap. She liked to do a lot of things. And usually he loved every minute of it. But at the current moment he was questioning this weekend. It had been so much more than before—had this been what he had really wanted?

It had started the previous Friday with a simple message left on his voice mail at work that morning: “You will be punished severely this weekend. You know where to go.” And he did. But why did she have to leave the message for him to worry about all day? He way due to go to the punishment house at the end of the day anyway. She could have contacted him there. But she hadn’t. So he would just have to wait.

RJ snapped back to the emptiness of the present. Had he heard something? It seemed unlikely, but he strained his ears against the darkness. He didn’t want to think about that work day of infinite length anymore. The hours had seemed to crawl b with each minute bring him new questions about what she had planned. Each plan he could think she might be up to was more diabolical than the last.

After an agonizing drive to the house through the Friday afternoon traffic, Rj finally arrived at the dark house. Seeing the note on the door he took it and drank in the words of his darket fantasy...

Friday night’s sleep had been fitful—from the dull throb and heat of his bruised behind to the cufs locking his ankles and wrists together. He just hadn’t been able to come up with a comfortable way to sleep. The alarm clock going off at 8am wasn’t help more either.

The worst thing though, as he looked into the bathroom mirror that morning, was the removal of all his clothes. He really hadn’t a thing to wear and he really did hate to be forced to go naked—especially when she was clothed. She seemed to delight in watching him flop around. Or maybe she just liked to see her handiwork on his backside. Either way, he was still completely naked.