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Blood thundered in his ears, the sound of his own heartbeat almost deafening. His head pounded and his mouth was dry, shit he'd had a lot to drink. Sighing shakily he tried to prise his eyelids open, it almost felt as though they had cooperated... And yet the room remained an inky black. A quiet groan escaped his scratchy throat; he could taste vomit and yet had no recollection of having thrown up. He could not remember how he had gotten home, or who he had been with, though he knew there had been a woman.

Turning his head to the side he groggily tried to force his aching muscles into movement, to rub at his sleep-crusted eyes. His arm met resistance; he felt the cold bite of metal around his wrist. His brow creased into a frown and he turned his head to try and see what was preventing him from moving, but the world was black. Slowly it dawned on him that he could feel the scratch of material and stitching against his face, he was blindfolded. Panic began to set in as snippets of the previous night trickled back to him; he jerked his arms and legs and confirmed his fears, he was shackled. Tensing his body he bucked and jerked, throwing his limbs against the rattling chains that held him in place. They held fast. A vision of her swam across his minds eye.

She had been beautiful, when he had set eyes on her he had smugly told himself that internet dating was worth the risks. He had signed up to dozens of websites, padding out his profile with all kinds of idiotic lines designed to draw in an easy lay. 'good sense of humour' and 'in search of bubbly blonde seeking no strings fun.' He had tried different tricks on every site, on some he claimed to be looking for his soul mate, on others he was more honest. His favourite had been the fetish website, he had been brutally honest about what he was looking for, and he'd had more than one fuck out of it. It was where he'd seen the profile of the woman he had met the previous night. He had been taken in by her pictures instantly, there was no coyness, she proudly displayed photographs of her tits alongside crotch shots and pictures from her other encounters. She was looking for a good time, that was it.

He had sent her a message the minute he had finished drooling over the snapshots of her body, asking her if she'd like to meet. She had replied almost instantly, her message detailing a local bar where he could go to see her. It was only a matter of hours before he was buying her drinks and gawping at her shamelessly. He was astounded by how perfect she was, and she was identical to her online profile, which was a rare change from what he usually found. Her hair was blonde and curled, worn loose around her shoulders, which were bare in her strapless, skintight latex dress. He vaguely recalled them drinking together until closing time, and the barman having to drag him out of his seat and throw him out of the door. It was unlike him to get drunk so quickly, but somehow he had been so intoxicated that he couldn't even walk unaided.

She had offered to take him back to her place for a coffee, and that was the last thing he could remember.

As he lay there, wrists and ankles bound, he struggled to recall the details of her profile. It had said nothing about her being into domination, he was almost sure of it. And why was the bed so uncomfortable? He screwed up his face in an attempt to dislodge the blindfold and failed. His whole body ached, and he had a stabbing pain in his abdomen which spiked with every inhale.

'Hello?' He called out, his voice ragged as he tried to remember her name. 'Hey, can you untie me a second? I need a drink and to take a leak, then we can get back to it.'

He was sure that they had not yet had sex; he'd have remembered that.

A quiet, girlish giggle was all the reply he got, and he turned his head to face the direction of the sound.

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