Chokerman was sitting on Traci’s back. The West Indian boogeyman usually sat on her chest, but for some unknown reason his weight was on her upper back, pressing her body onto a hard surface. It was not her bed that was for sure. Bringing her hands up for leverage proved even more difficult than raising her head and upper body from her supine position. Needles and pins jabbed her hands into wakefulness; shaking them, she heard the rattle of chains, and felt their weight. Panic thoughts swirling in her head. Where am I? What’s going on? Knocking against her breast bone, her heart galloped like a horse at the Kentucky derby. Why am I naked? With sweat dripping out of every pore on her body, Traci tried to wipe her face on her arms, but could not bring them up or lift her head to accomplish the task.
“Are you awake?” asked a disembodied voice. Traci froze. Her breath escaping as hick-ups. A clicking and whirring sound came out of the dark followed by a flashing light. Groaning, she tried to speak, but her dried mouth kept the words in check. Squinting at the strobe lights, Traci winced as pain exploded in her head. The whirring noise was closer now, and she recognized the mechanical recall of a Polaroid camera. Whimpering, she twisted her naked body to and fro abrading her nipples, frantically pulling on her arms and legs trying to escape her metal chain link prison.
The incessant throbbing pain lacerated her back, arms, and thighs, so she tried to quiet her mind, but the thought of being in some mad man’s web, fueled her need to escape. “I need you awake for the rest.” Traci moaned, as she recognized Ian Walker’s malevolent voice reaching out to her from the darkness. She tried to speak, but her throat felt as if she had swallowed spicy marshmallows. Peeping through her puffy eyelids, she stared into a black void of nothingness, while faint classical music wafted through the room, and the smell of dank and rot rose up to suffocate her.
Traci awoke from her nightmare drenched in sweat. Huddled and shivering against her headboard, she looked around for the sound that had followed her into the present. Lightning flashed outside her bedroom window. The unpacked boxes piled up around the room resembled hulking monsters ready to pounce on her. Cocking her head to the side, she stared into her semi lit bedroom, trying to find the source of her disquiet. Then she heard a drawn out moan. Automobile tires swished over rain slicked streets, chains rattled beyond her bedroom walls. Was it the wind or was there someone or something in her house?
Why did I rent such a large house? Traci had moved into her new apartment this morning, and had been happy with the extra rooms. Now with all the strange noises, and her recurring nightmare still fresh on her mind, she was beginning to think having a large house was not a smart move. Although she missed Lynda and Scot, she knew that she could not have stayed with them forever. Living with her ex-boyfriend’s aunt and uncle was not healthy. Lynda had tried to talk her into to staying. “Why you want to pay rent? A house is a big responsibility! You’re going to be sorry.” Traci just needed her own space. She was tired living with people, and damn it, she was capable. She didn’t take all those years of self-defense classes to wimp out now.
Swinging her legs off the bed, Traci tiptoed to the closed bedroom door. As she reached a hand towards the door knob, she heard the rattle of chains and a female moan. The noises were soon drowned out by a sequence of crashing thunder claps. “Shit!” Traci snatched her hand away and fell back a step, almost falling over her an unpacked box next to the door. Refraining from an impulse to kick the box, Traci crouched low, leading with her left leg for a round house kick. Inching towards the door again, she slowly turned the knob, waiting and listening for any creak, rattle, or moan. Advancing into the darken hallway, she ran one hand over the wall searching for the light switch. Unable to locate the switch, she moved steadily and cautiously, stopping repeatedly whenever she heard a noise. The moans and groans were getting louder, and more frequent. The chains had stopped their rattling. Lightning illuminated the living room showing opened boxes and contents spilled out on the floor and on every piece of furniture. It resembled a hoarder’s room. Moving towards the kitchen, still in a crouch with fists at her chin ready to either deliver a punch or block one, Traci heard a scream followed by a thump behind her. Spinning around, she saw the connecting door that led to her landlord’s dwelling. Walking over on the balls of her feet, she winced as the floor board squeaked. Pressing her ear to the door, she held her breath listening. Heart racing. Mouth dry.
“More, MORE! Give it to me harder! Yes. Yes. Yessss,” yelled a female voice.
A male voice joined in with, “Shit, I’m coming!” Take it. Take it all, bitch!
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Traci stood transfixed with a gaping mouth, and her ear pressed to the cool wooden door. Wiping her brow with a shaking hand, Traci sagged against the door for a minute trying to calm her breathing. At least it’s not a ghost, I think. Do ghosts have sex? Her heart still racing, Traci ran back to her room, and collapsed onto her bed. Lying on her back and staring intently up at the ceiling, Traci wondered, how she will face her landlord tomorrow. Could he hear me walking around tonight? Who cares if he heard you? I do.
Closing her eyes, Traci conjured Raun Hartman’s image, his gorgeous gray eyes, his sexy kissable mouth, his big hands, his lean yet muscular built, and his flat washboard abs. Gosh! Traci fanned herself as she tried to imagine what her landlord, Raun and his guest had been doing. He was sex personified. He had to be over six feet, but looked taller because of his size. Traci ached to run her hands over his taunt ass, and strong thighs. Her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, as they always zero in on his large package behind his zipper. Just thinking about him made her wet. Traci could feel the trickle escaping and wetting her knickers.
Throwing off her sweat soaked night attire, she let her hands roam sensually over her breasts. Lightly running her hands over her nipples, they puckered and ached at the touch. Moaning, she imagined that it was Raun’s hands caressing her. Pushing her breasts up towards her lips, she bent her heard to take a swipe at her nipples with her tongue. Gasping at the sensation, she squeezed them roughly before pinching them. Moistening her fingers in her mouth, she lightly soothed the peaks, before gliding her hands down her torso, “Oh Raun.” Licking her lips, she imagined that she was licking the gift behind the zipper. “Ummm. Yes.” Writhing on the bed, she moved her fingers between her legs, playing with the hair, feeling its silkiness.
The rattle of chains intruded on her fantasy, and she became disgusted by the image of someone tied up and receiving pleasure from the experience. Repulsed by the image, she got up to retrieve another nightgown before falling back into to bed disgusted and unsatisfied.