Aggressor

2
They grabbed my wrists and forced them up against my temples, then got busy with the tape. They wrapped it around my hands and head like a bandage, then down under my chin for good measure.
I clenched my fists as tightly as I could, trying to create some slack in the tape when they’d finished. Even a little bit of play might mean my circulation wasn’t cut off. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, but knowing that I was resisting in some small way made me feel better.
Next they turned their attention to my arms, binding them together just above the elbows, locking them firmly under my chin.
No order was given, but they suddenly stepped back as one and left the room.
I glanced around me. My clothes were gone, and there was no way out.
My hands more or less covered my ears, but I’d heard the door being locked from the outside, and the four ventilation grilles were no larger than letter boxes. Besides, they probably had me under CCTV.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. Sweat stung the skin beneath my chin. I must have stayed like that for an hour, maybe more.
I tried to keep optimistic.
I’d fallen in more than my fair share of dung heaps over the years, and while I might not always have come up smelling of roses, I’d been able to keep a certain percentage of me shit-free and easy on the nose.
I’d taken a bit of punishment along the way, but somehow always managed to get away with it. I guessed that was one of the reasons I’d carried on doing these stupid dickhead things.
Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t avoid the thought that maybe this time would be different.




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