Rite of Submission - Rite 1

2: Packaged and Delivered

                I knew it was futile, but I kept trying to go after him anyway. The grip of 12 large hands held me firmly in place, no matter how hard I tried to break free of their grasp. I'd already burned through most of the adrenalin that had fueled my earlier success, and without it, there was no hope for me. Eventually my body sagged in their hold, defeated.

"Let's try to get this done and over with quickly lads," Nathan dropped the small duffle bag he'd been carrying onto the floor beside me. Kneeling in front of me I finally got a decent look at him so that I could commit his face to memory; I still owed him one for slapping me.

The Beta was a few inches shorter than his Beta, but still taller than me. I'd had a hard time seeing his face as he stood off to my side and I was preoccupied. He had dark brown hair, cut very short on the back and sides, but long enough on top for it to curl a little. He looked me over with big, brown eyes the color of dark honey. His lips were drawn tight as he frowned at me. His jaw line was still strong, but not as square as the Alpha's and it was covered with a thin, neatly trimmed beard, barely more than day old scruff. Naturally, his tee shirt was stretched tightly over his own muscular chest, shoulders and arms. None of it would stop me from repaying him someday.

He pulled a leather strap with a small red ball from the bag. Oh hell no! I rallied what strength I had left and struggled to slip from their grasp. "Hold her still, damn it!" The 6 enforcers holding me tightened their grip; one moving to hold my head in place this time as their Beta pressed the red ball to my lips. I clamped my mouth shut.

Laughing, he used his free hand to pinch my nose shut, cutting off my air supply. I could hold my breath for a long time, but eventually my lungs began to burn for more air. My mouth gapped open sucking in air. The red plastic ball fit snugly between my teeth and the strap was quickly fastened behind my head.

"Now," he drawled with a grin that sent a shiver down my spine, "for the fun part." He pulled a small switch blade out of his pocket. My heart jumped into my throat and my eyes grew wide. There was a round of laughter from all of them. "Hold her arms out," he instructed with a grunt.

My arms were pulled out to the sides like a cross. Using the blade, he sliced through the shoulders and sides of the cotton shirt, the fabric falling away to leave me in my bra. At least it wasn't one of my lacey ones; I did my best to glare at him anyway. "Lay her out," he gestured at the floor.

They pushed me forward and down onto my stomach, one kneeling on my back to hold me firmly in place. Eye level with the bag now, I could see coils of red rope before it was pulled out. "Bring her arms back," he ordered, unwinding the rope. I tried to struggle, but their grip was firm, plus the weight of their bodies over mine gave them more leverage. My arms were pulled straight back behind me allowing him to loop some rope around my wrists. It was a shock how fast he looped the rope around my arms while he tied a series of knots up the length of them, it felt like a ladder formation. Most of the hands let go when he'd finished, knowing my range of motion had been diminished.

"Almost done," he smiled down at me. My ankles were yanked apart as he moved around to kneel beside me. The cold steel of the knife against my skin froze all my muscles in place. Gliding it along the side of my leg, the blade slid up to my waist, slicing through the denim as if it was made of paper, but it didn't feel like he'd cut me. He made a second cut along my other leg, peeling the ruined jeans from me like a banana peel.

With another length of rope, he looped and tied more knots up around my legs, securing them together. When he was finished, I laid there in my parents' living room, gagged and wrapped up in rope like a mummy. The best I could do now was flop on the floor like a fish out of water. Completely helpless, every hand removed itself from me.