Codename: Switch

Chapter 1: Awakening in Shadows

The protagonist's awakening was triggered by a piercing pain that, originating from his temples, unwelcomely migrated to his forehead. This painful sensation was accompanied by a hazy dizziness, making it difficult for him to regain his sense of orientation. In an attempt to anchor himself back to reality and escape the aftermath of his fainting spell, the protagonist tried to mentally answer some key questions...

What was his occupation? Soldier.
What was his code name? Switch.
What was his hair color? Blonde, akin to the fur of a wet Golden Retriever following a rainy walk.
What was his eye color? Women who had shared his bed in the past often referred to them as steel blue. He always left it uncommented.
Where had he last been? At his home.
What had happened? ...
What the hell had happened? ...
What was- ... Ah yes. It dawned on him. He had just returned from the military base and noticed that his door lock had been broken. Driven by some impulse, call it recklessness or idiocy, he decided not to immediately alert the local authorities but instead entered his house to personally inspect it for further signs of burglary. He remembered entering the living room and hearing a noise behind him; but before he could react, someone had wrapped an arm around his throat to immobilize him and forcibly placed a piece of fabric - or so he assumed - over his nose and mouth area. He remembered wanting to resist, yes, he could still envision himself struggling and hitting out vigorously; but whoever attacked him from behind was no weakling - the vice-like grip around his throat only tightened, forcing him repeatedly to gasp for air through the fabric... During this, the indecent memory of the strange scent he had picked up in the scuffle flickered... And how his body involuntarily gave in. He remembered falling to his knees for the first time, whereupon his attacker finally released him, and he crashed helplessly face-down to the ground... Then, he tried to crawl over the wooden parquet floor to a safe distance, preferably towards the house phone.. It was only three meters away from him... He managed one meter. Two more to go. He was almost there... Another meter. Everything was spinning. Yet he was convinced he could make it... If only it weren't for his attacker, who suddenly rolled him onto his back and sat on his stomach. Before he could react, the fabric was pressed over the lower half of his face again. That scent again. He screamed - or at least he believed it was supposed to be a scream, but it sounded more like a weakened moan - into the fabric and grabbed with both hands at the forearm of his attacker, trying to pull it off, but to no avail. It was akin to the infantile attempts of a toddler convinced they could move a tractor by themselves... The success rate was zero. Desperate, he kicked out, his combat boots scraping and scratching over the parquet floor, while the veins on his forearms bulged with the effort to fend off his aggressor. Yet it was to no avail; instead, the chloroform with which he was evidently attacked took effect, causing him to collapse soon after... His last memory was the blurring sight of the ceiling, coupled with the black-masked, thus unidentifiable, face of his attacker... Then his body completely slumped, and the absolute darkness of sweet unconsciousness enveloped his mind... Until now.

He was still shrouded in darkness. However, he realized that the absence of light was not due to any form of unconsciousness, but rather because his eyes were covered; accordingly, a cloth blindfold was responsible for his acute blindness. Moreover, he was unable to speak. Attempting to move his lips, he felt a painful tension and the general impossibility of creating space for their use. It gradually dawned on him that his mouth had been sealed with duct tape. The bastard who had done this to him was not of a sparing nature, as he had made generous rounds with the duct tape, pulling it from his mouth area to the back of his head and back again; he could feel a slight tug on his neck whenever he moved his head. Trying to move in general, he realized that he had been bound in a sitting position. Wisely, his attacker had chosen one of the steel kitchen chairs as a seat; he recognized this by the familiar and frigid backrest. Laboriously, the soldier tried to wriggle and kick, but he didn't have much freedom of movement. Gradually, he realized that he had been tied up with several ropes in a very professional manner. His attacker knew what he was doing. Genuine nervousness spread within him as he noted that the ropes were wrapped around his torso as well as his legs and combat boots. While his arms were tied across the backrest of the chair, his attacker had tied each leg to the chair legs on the respective side. This forced his legs to be spread apart. He could also feel how some ropes artistically and authoritatively wound around his broad chest - the product of years of hard training sessions in the gym; they were so tight that he felt they would at any moment cut through the thin fabric of his olive compression shirt. The soldier assumed that the perpetrator must be familiar with Shibari...