The first thing to slip through the fog in my head is Sublime screaming, “My god, what is that awful smell?” As if a cue, I whiff. Clove cigarettes, the cloying scent reaching me through the wool covering my face. I try to reach up to move it away only to find that my arms are trussed behind me, tied to my feet; when I try to speak, I then taste the ball gag. What the . . . Okay, try to think. Sublime, clove cigarettes, bondage . . . Marla and Tyler. They must have roofied me.
I’d met Marla and Tyler, a sub/dom switch couple who get their kicks taking turns dominating each other, the week before at ‘Mistress’, an SM show club. I was bored and curious, so I put on a bunch of black and went for a look. Should have known they were wrong when I heard their names. What are the chances of an actual pair, never mind an SM couple, having those names?
I struggle helpless against the restraints, but at least get my face uncovered. Outside the streetlights blink by rhythmically.
“Looks like she’s awake,” Marla says, turning around to look at me. “You wanted to feel something real, this is real.” I make a muffled sound and try uselessly to sit up. “Don’t worry,” she continued, “if you were in actual danger, you’d be in the trunk.”