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“Do you know how long I have waited for this day? How long I’ve hidden in the shadows, just waiting for the right time to scoop you up and finally make you mine. Do you, princess?”

The iron chains that bind her slender, cuffed wrists to the O-ring hook on the St. Andrew’s cross rattle with each spastic breath she sucks in through her clenched teeth. Her ample chest heaves, and her lithe body trembles at my words. The fear is so paramount that I can smell it wafting from her, as it deliciously scents the dank air of the basement with its sweetness.

She really is the most precious thing I’ve ever encountered, and now she’s mine, all mine. Her presence here is the dawn of a new day, enlightening my world in ways that, until now, I’ve only fantasized about.

“Please. Let me go.” She begs, her hands flexing over her shackles, the blood on her wrists from the fight she put up during her abduction dripping slowly down her fingers.

“I’m sorry my sweetness, but this is your new home now. As soon as you accept it and can be the good girl I know you are, I’ll take you down from there. But until then…” My words fall away, leaving her to finish the sentence with whatever images are flashing through her panicked mind.

It's amazing how a lot of the situations we put ourselves in during our lifetimes are self-fulfilling prophecies. We worry so much about what can happen that in essence, we materialize it and suddenly our fears transpire. She’s in that position now, where her behavioral response to her new found captivity will produce the final outcome of her residence here.

I can give her the world. More money, power, and love than she would ever receive anywhere else on this godforsaken planet. Or I can make the rest of her existence miserable, laden with torture and despair where she begs unsuccessfully for it to end. The choice is hers, and hers alone.

“Until then, what?” She asks, her warm brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears that threaten to fall with her next quivering word.

“That’s entirely up to you.”