Freeing Lana

By: Kristin Elyon



Lana awoke in complete darkness, hearing nothing but the steady ticking of a clock somewhere on the wall above her head. Something was covering her eyes; she could feel it against the top of her cheeks, but when she reached for it, she found she could not move her arms. They were bound to the edges of the bed beside her with something which seemed to be tied below the bed, the floor perhaps, but she could not be sure.

What the fuck?

Her mind stumbled over itself trying to make sense of the situation, searching frantically for any clue of a memory which might tell her where she was, or how she got there. But she was drawing a blank. She remembered being at work, and then walking across the parking lot to her car, but that was it. She couldn’t even remember getting into the car. Everything after her shift at Wholesale Warehouse was completely gone. She tried to tell herself her friends were playing a joke on her and at any moment they were all going to start laughing, unable to hold it in any longer, but a part of her knew she was in some sort of trouble.

Think, God damn it Lana, think.

But the more she tried to remember, the further away the memories seemed to slip, leaving her in a more confused state than she had been in before. This was not a joke, at least not a funny one. Her friends had not hidden her car or pinned a note on her back inviting everyone to kick her. She was tied blindfolded to a fucking bed and it wasn’t funny at all.

To her right and behind her, she could make out just a hint of light, as if a window was there. It was barely detectable through whatever guarded her sight, but it was enough she was quite certain it was daylight outside. Had she been here all night? She had no clue. Hell, as far as she knew, she could have been here for several nights. She felt herself begin to tremble as the enormity of uncertainty washed over her. As tears formed in the corner of her eyes and tried to fall only to be caught on whatever was covering her eyes, a new startling realization came crashing into her newfound nightmare.

She was naked. Completely fucking – a quick attempt to lift her legs added another unnoticed ingredient to the messy soup which was becoming her mind; her legs were bound tightly to the corners of the bed – completely fucking naked.

“Oh fuck me,” she said out loud, surprising herself with the slight amusement it brought to her.

If he hasn’t already, chances are he does indeed intend to fuck you.

Well, no shit. She wasn’t rich, so the idea of being held for ransom and then safely returned home was ludicrous, at best. She pulled at the restraints binding her ankles and wrists. Nothing, not even the slightest give. An old boyfriend, perhaps? An admirer? Probably not. No, that was not Lana’s luck. History suggested her luck in a situation like the one she now found herself would be a lot worse, most likely involving some deranged, disease infested troll, a 450 pound loser who decided to go to whatever lengths it took to get laid for the first time in his life, so he had grabbed her and she was most likely tied up in his mother’s basement right now.

Fuck you, indeed.

“Shut up,” she told herself, “just shut up.”

She tried to convince herself her worst fears were merely panicky delusions, and though there was no way this situation was going to end well, it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Yea, she was more than likely going to be fucked, probably more than once, possibly by more than one person, but maybe, just maybe if she didn’t make too much of a fuss, he would let her go soon. Maybe was all she had, so she grasped it tightly with both bound hands and waited.

But she didn’t have to wait long, because about the same time she was able to make the tears stop, she heard something. It sounded like a door opening in another room. The front door, maybe? There it was again, maybe. Maybe it was the police. Maybe she was going to be rescued before it went any further.

“Help!” she screamed. “Somebody help me!”

The door – she was completely convinced now it was in fact the front door – slammed shut. She heard footsteps pounding on hardwood floors coming closer. It was the police, it had to be.

“I’m in here!”

Another door flew open, this one much closer and she knew it was the door to whatever room she was in.

“Help me,” she pleaded, barely getting out the hopeful whimper. But her hope quickly diminished as the most distinctive sound of duct tape being torn from a roll answered her. Seconds later, she felt the brush of fingers on her cheeks as a piece of the silver restraint was placed over her mouth, retarding any further pleas for help, as well as any hope of rescue.

Fuck me, indeed.


Quiet, almost gentle, the simple command was all he said as he crossed the room and shut the door. Lana heard him cross the room, returning to the bed. There was a slight pause before she felt the bed give, telling her he had sat down beside her. She was not flipped onto the floor, so the 450 pound troll theory was gone…for now.

She heard what sounded like water dripping, or as though something had been pulled out of a container of water anyway. Then a gentle brush on her forehead as a wet rag wiped the sweat from her brow, then her face and neck.

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