A Road Not Travelled

Forgetfulness

  Busy at work in a book store, not realizing that closing time had come and passed when someone walks in. Not half bad looking, though he has an air of danger about him. I notice his veiny arms and catch my breathe fantasising  what they could do to me. He asks for help finding something, and I quickly oblige and lead him to the book he's asked about. I grab the book, talking softly about what a great read it is, but when I turn almost completely around, he pounces me and covers my head with a black silk bag.

The door opens and I hear heavy footsteps and deep masculine voices. My mind races as I try to comprehend everything going on without the use of sight. How many are there? A loud click; I hear the lock hit home and all chance of help is gone. I am alone. Utterly alone. Helpless to fight against my captors. I am at their mercy as they bind my arms behind my back and lead me somewhere. their hands tangled in my hair through the bag over my had. Their hands feling all over my body. Violating every inch of me. My feet hit cold concrete and I realize they led me to the stockroom. My hope was gone. Helpless.

I struggle, naturally, but they are too strong for me. My eyes burn as tears are brought up to the surface. I try to remain hopeful as I'm forced to my knees and bound again. They use a broom's handle to force my legs apart, stretching the fabric of the skirt I wore. A blade is used, then, to rip my clothing off, baring me to all of them. I hear them laugh, joke, poke fun at me. Calling me a tease, a whore, a slut, a toy. They use every degrading word I knew and more. They tell me that when they are done I'll only beg for more.

Fear claws at every fiber of my being as a gag is forced into my mouth through the hood. I can't see, I can't speak, I can only hear and feel. The cement floor is cold on my ass now. Are they looking at me? Only God knows. They are laughing, but I can't understand why. My fear rises as my adrenaline kicks in with every second. Th anticipation is worse than the fear now. 

 I feel a hundred little pin pricks on my skin as if the whole world is looking at me, touching me. Bare, exposed, helpless.

I feel the broom stick move between my legs and I expect the worse, but then it stops. Are they done with me now? What was the point of the degredation? I hear the heavy footsteps walk away and hope is soaring into my mind. But then I hear them come back, and once again the tears want to flow. I feel one of the men tie a rope to both of my arms.

Then I begin to lift up into the air, a rope bound to my arms and to the pole forcing my legs apart lifts me higher off the ground. I can feel the air movement around me, hear them unzipping things. Pants, bags... who knows. Items clack and clink. Fear and curiosity mingle inside me. What next?