Perspective IV: Deductions

Perspective IV: Deductions

Gone Camping

The night to remember started when he announced they were going camping for the weekend. It would be just the two of them, to “get away from it all,” as he liked to say. He described a nice, secluded spot far from town. They would have the place all to themselves. The more he talked about it, the more excited she became. She knew his idea of “camping” definitely wasn't limited to pitching a tent and toasting marshmallows.

While they packed the pickup truck on Friday afternoon, she saw him casually toss in his mystery bag before they left. She never knew what he'd pull out of that bag, but based on past experience it was always something that made the trip memorable.

He took the highway heading north, into the center of the state, a desert area uninhabited except for a few gas stations along the road. Even on busy days there wasn't that much traffic; on a weekend it was all but empty. The first hour she counted a total of seven trucks and three cars passing in the opposite lane. No one passed them heading in the same direction.

Another hour passed before he slowed, taking the off ramp and crossing the overpass. The narrow road wound through some hills into a desolate valley, well out of sight of the highway. Then he had to stop for a large gate covered with warning signs that blocked the way. A chain link fence on both sides stretched into the distance.

“Not to worry, we have the key,” he told her. She watched as he got out, unlocked the gate, swung it aside, and came back. “It's private land, but not much on it. The owner found some copper and silver on the ridge up ahead. He put in a test mineshaft a while back, which is why the road is here. He's holding onto the land in case commodity prices go up enough to start operations. I've helped him out in the past, when he had some computer problems. He told me about this place, invited me to come up and look around.”

She nodded, not paying too much attention. It was the wide open spaces that held her attention. Other than the road the entire valley was empty, not a single building, no lights, no sign of anyone else. It was perfect.

He pulled the pickup forward, stopped again, and got out to close the gate. When he came back they drove on, up the gentle slope of the valley floor. Eventually they came to the end of the road, where it widened out into a small lot below a covered mineshaft set into the mountain. Other than the road it was the only evidence anyone had ever been to this place. He parked in the center of the circular paved area.

They unpacked and set up the tent for the night. When they were finished he sat down on the pickup's lowered tailgate, looking out over the moonlit valley below. She came over and sat down next to him. “See something interesting?” she asked.

“ Mesquite , sagebrush, barrel cactus, and not much else.” He took hold of her hand. “It is a nice night out. Nearly full moon too, plenty of light. How about a short hike back down the road?”

She gazed up into the clear night sky. The moon was up, shining bright. Far from city lights, the heavens were full of stars, twinkling against an inky black background. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, typical for this time of year. At the moment it was pleasantly cool, but she knew by early dawn at this altitude the temperature would drop down enough to require a sweater.

“You're sure it will be safe?” She couldn't see what might pose a danger, but it was nice to hear his reassurances.

“It's private property, there's no reason for anyone to come way out here, and the gate to the highway is locked closed. There aren't any animals bigger than a jackrabbit. I think we'll be okay.”

“Okay, sounds like fun.” She waited, knowing he had something more in mind. His mystery bag was still in the bed of the pickup, right behind where they were sitting. He had something in there, something for her. It was a little game they played. She knew his question included more than a simple stroll down the road; and he knew in her answer there was an implicit agreement to whatever he had in mind.

There wasn't enough light for her to see the smile on his face, or the way his eyes narrowed when he turned to her. “Let's get ready then. I brought a flashlight, just in case, but I doubt we'll need it. Oh, and a water bottle too.”

She slid off the tailgate and lazily stretched as she waited for him to start. His first command was no surprise at all. “I want everything off, except your shoes.”

“Yes, sir,” was her quick reply, as she began to unbutton her blouse. It was no accident he chose such an isolated camping spot. She tossed her blouse into the bed of the pickup, followed in quick succession by her shorts, bra and panties. The breeze coming down from the mountains felt deliciously cool on her bare skin. She loved the exposed feeling, vulnerable yet safe from the eyes of strangers.

He stood up, tugging at the mystery bag. She watched silently, in anticipation, as he slowly unzipped the top.

“I brought along some old friends, along with a new addition I found earlier this week. I think you'll get a kick out of it.” She heard a familiar rattle from his rummaging. “Ahh, here we go. Basics first, hands behind your back.”

She knew exactly how far apart her wrists should be for his “old friend”. She stood as still as possible, eyes closed, hands held out to him from behind. Click, click, click, and her wrists were securely locked in the handcuffs. The hinged ones, she thought, judging from the weight and feel. As always he was careful to double lock them so they wouldn't close too tight.

“That okay?” he asked. She went through her usual routine, trying to get the cuffs off. Her fingers brushed against the face of the cuffs, to make sure she couldn't find the keyhole. Usually the metal surface would be smooth and unbroken, the keyhole facing away from her hands, virtually inaccessible even if she had the key. But this time she was surprised to find the indentation of the keyholes in front, within reach. She figured he must not have noticed in the dark. It didn't really make a difference, since he never gave her the keys anyway.

“Yes, sir, not too tight.” That's why she preferred metallic handcuffs over rope or leather. They worked well with a loose fit. She could go for hours and not worry about cutting off circulation in her hands.

Click, click, and her ankles were locked in leg irons. Another “old friend”, oversize handcuffs that easily fit over her thick hiking boot socks. Idly she wondered how much slack in the connecting chain he had allowed her for the night. Once she became used to the shortened stride she normally didn't have any difficulties walking with them on, other than the problem that she couldn't walk very fast.

“There, no need to hurry. We'll take our time tonight.” He put his hands on her shoulders and lightly kissed the back of her neck. “You're almost ready.”

Carefully she stretched out her feet, to check on how much freedom he had allowed her. Short this time, she figured she had about eight inches, about half the regulation length of the police style leg chains. He had picked a particularly challenging set for her tonight. The length was too short to get into any kind of a rhythm when walking; she had to concentrate on every step in order not to bruise her ankles, or even worse stumble and fall. Still, she could manage if he held onto her and didn't go too fast.

He was going through his bag again. “I know it's in here…there it is!” She heard the ripping sound of Velcro. Of course he'd bring the strap. It wasn't easy, but if she was patient she could work her handcuffed hands down, over her hips, around her legs and back up in front. He had found a solution to that, a nylon strap with Velcro loops that went around each of her arms, above the elbow. It wasn't uncomfortable, unless she tried to pull her arms apart. With the strap on it was impossible to get her hands around in front, and because of the rigidity of the hinge cuff she couldn't twist her hands to reach the Velcro.

She wondered about the new item he had found. She had his usual pick of restraints on now, just the way he liked to see her, all of her. Bound hand and foot she couldn't get dressed now, even if he let her try.

“Now for something completely different!” She heard the humor in his voice. When he used that Monty Python cliché it meant he'd come up with some devious device to make her just a little more helpless. She wished she could turn around to see what he'd brought, but she had to stay perfectly still until he gave her permission to move.

The answer came with the hood that he pulled down over her head. It was light, stretchy, and easy to breathe through the spandex material. But it was not easy to see through, especially through the padded blindfold sewn into the front. In fact, she couldn't see anything. The bottom edge of the hood extended down under her chin to her collarbone.

It was a blindfold, and a good one. No light came through at all. The hood fit against her face like a second skin. No chance she could shake it loose. He wasn't finished though. The second surprise was the feel of the stiff leather collar as he wrapped it around her neck. It was several inches high, forcing her chin up. The only way she could move her head was to turn her body. She felt him buckling the straps at the back of the collar to secure it. This was another “old friend”, but more familiar in the setting of his time-out room. That was one place she dreaded, because she only visited it when she had to make amends for disappointing him.

Her first impulse was to reach up and feel the hood and collar, but that was impossible with the handcuffs on. When he felt her jerk against the cuffs he put his hands on her arms and spoke softly. “Don't worry. Take a deep breath. See? You can breathe normally. All the hood does is take away your vision. The collar is there to make sure it stays on. Alright?”

His voice had a calming effect. She tried to nod, but the collar wouldn't allow it. “Yes, sir, I'm okay. Give me a moment to adjust. I can't see anything at all.”

“Good, that's the idea.” He didn't elaborate on what else he had in mind. She would find out soon enough. “I'll be your eyes.” He put a hand on her lower back. “I'll show you which way to go, when to stop. I won't let anything happen to you.”

That warm feeling, of being completely in his hands, helpless, controlled, obedient to his every wish, was pushing aside any concerns she might have had. This was precisely why she enjoyed bondage. She had to trust him; there was no other choice left to her.

“I'm ready to go, when you are, sir.” Go wherever he wanted, do whatever he asked, she could no more say no to him now that she could sprout wings and fly away. Or scratch her nose; both tasks were equally impossible.

She heard him close the tailgate. There was a jangling sound, like a set of keys dropped on the pavement. “Darn, looks like I have a hole in my pocket. I'll leave your keys on the front seat.” She heard the driver's door open and close. “Imagine what a mess we'd be in if I lost them out there somewhere.”

It was a good thing the hood and the night concealed her expression. He wouldn't be the one with the problem if he lost the keys to her restraints. A long drive back to town, trussed up like she was now, was not a pleasant prospect.

He picked up the water bottle and slung it over his shoulder. “I think we're ready.” His hand pressed against her back guiding her to the left. “The road is this way. We'll stay on the pavement so you won't trip or stumble.”

On The Road

Once they got started it wasn't as bad as she had feared. He didn't try to hurry her, not that she could walk very fast anyway. The ankle chains slowed her down, but she was able to keep up a steady pace. She could probably outrun a desert tortoise, probably, but she wouldn't want to bet money on it.

Because the tortoise would have one big advantage over her; the ability to see. She had no idea what direction they were going, or how far they were from the truck. All that kept her from wandering off into the open desert was his hand on her back, and his running conversation. His touch and reassuring voice were the only connections she had to the universe beyond the tip of her nose.

What she didn't expect was how quickly the hood was affecting her. Despite the coolness of the night air she was feeling warm, very warm. The more he forced her to depend on him, the more erotic the bondage became. The hood and being blindfolded put her over the top that much faster. His hand was sending tingles of electricity all over her back. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck, wrap her legs around his waist, and have him take her there in the middle of the road. Not that she could do much about it. In frustration she pulled against the handcuffs. Whatever was to happen tonight, it would be his choice as to time and place. Knowing that only made her want him more.

He caught the slight movement of her wrists, and knew it was one of her subtle signals. Much as he was tempted, he would not be rushed. A little further, and then she'd be ready for the next step in his plan. Ready, but she wouldn't be expecting it.

He switched on the flashlight in his other hand and pointed the beam down the road. There it was, the place he had marked on the way up to the campsite; a wide spot, built so trucks could turn around without going off into the desert.

“A few more yards, then we'll stop and rest. You doing okay? Nothing pinching?” There were some large rocks to one side, where he could sit down. She wouldn't have that luxury.

“I'm okay, sir. I'm feeling some strain, in my legs, from the chains.”

He had expected it. The choice of a shortened chain had been deliberate. Hobbled, forced to take shorter, halting steps, her leg muscles tired faster from the unfamiliar strain. Not being able to see where she was going would throw off her timing too, making it that much more difficult to move around.

He switched off the flashlight. They were close enough for him to see by moonlight, and she had no way to make use of illumination. “Here we are. We'll rest here before heading back. I bet you'd like to sit down?”

“Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but could you help me find a place? I, umm, seem to be in some difficulty.”

He laughed at her understatement. Naked, shackled hand and foot, head covered in a hood, she was definitely in need of assistance. He moved his hand from her back to grip her arm, above the strap restraining her elbows. “There's a nice flat stone ahead of you. I'll lead you there and help you to...” He broke off suddenly, letting go of her arm. She heard him start to walk away from her. “What in the world….”

She immediately stopped when she lost her guiding hand. She tried to turn her head to face him, but the collar around her neck held her head rigid, facing forward. From the tone in his voice something unexpected had just appeared. “Sir? What is it?” she hesitantly asked, conscious of the picture she would present to a stranger.

His answer was a crisp but distracted whisper. “Stay here. I'll be right back.” She heard his footsteps fade away as he disappeared into the night.

Darkness All Around

Her first reaction was to stand still and not make a noise. His last words had been in a hushed whisper. The only explanation she could come up with was that someone else was out there, and he didn't want to attract attention. But why had he left her, if that was the case? It didn't make sense.

She held her breath, straining to hear any sound that might provide a clue as to what was happening. Unable to move her head, she twisted her upper body left, then right, back and forth, listening, hoping to catch the echo of his footsteps on the pavement. The breeze had died down, so there wasn't even the gentle sound of rustling branches from desert brush. It was deathly quiet, broken only by her soft gasp when she remembered to take a gulp of air again.

If someone was out there, her only hope was the concealment of the night. Any sound she made would give her away. Was the moon still up? She stared into the hood, searching for some small pinprick hole that might reveal moonlight. If there was such a hole she couldn't find it. She was completely surrounded by the curtain of pitch black wrapped around her head, darkness all around no matter where she turned.

Patience , she told herself. He'll be right back. Don't let your imagination run wild. Hold still, and wait. He's okay. All those thoughts ran through her head, but none took hold. Not knowing was the worst of it; what had he seen?

Slowly, so as not to make any noise, she flexed her hands, resting in the small of her back. If she could free her hands then she could unbuckle that collar around her neck. If she could get the collar off then she could remove the hood and rid herself of the blindfold. If she could see then she'd know why he had left her alone. If, if, if , she thought, but there was one small catch.

She and the handcuffs were well-acquainted. He'd told her all about them. Stainless steel, strong, reliable, pick-resistant lock, and used by the police for high risk prisoners because the cuffs were so difficult to remove when worn behind the back, with the keyhole facing away from the hands. He'd let her prove that by giving her the key. No matter how she tried she couldn't reach the keyhole on her own. Easy enough to open when the keyway faced her hands, impossible when he turned them around. It was a moot point anyway; she didn't have the key.

If only he'd unlocked one side before leaving her. Then she remembered why not. He had left the keys in the front seat of the truck, so they wouldn't get lost. She never concerned herself with the keys; that was his business. All she ever cared about was that she didn't have them and couldn't get to them. She couldn't enjoy the bondage experience unless he was in total control.

Carefully she tried to slip one hand out of the cuffs. She knew it would be futile, and it was. He knew exactly how far to tighten them to make sure she couldn't get loose. The collar and hood were safely out of her reach, as he intended.

How long was it now? There was still nothing to indicate where he'd gone or what he was doing. Nor did she have a clock to tell the time. Her wristwatch was back on the dresser at home. He never allowed her to carry a watch except at work. Not that it would have been useful; she had no way to see the dial.

Five minutes , she was sure he'd been gone at least that long. Her legs ached, her nose itched, and she was starting to feel thirsty. If only she could sit down. That's what they had been about to do. Was she still facing the same direction? How far away was that rock he'd picked out for her to use as a makeshift chair?

It must be close by, but could she find it? She stared into the blindfold, willing it to part and reveal the secrets of what was hidden beyond the barrier in front of her eyes. But the hood remained uncooperative, instead doing its best to conceal her surroundings. Maybe the rock was directly in front of her, or maybe it was off to one side. She could just as easily walk into a cactus full of sharp spines, or off the edge of the road into the desert.

She sighed, forced to give up any hope that she could find a place to rest. Though she could just sit down where she was, without going anywhere. It wouldn't be easy, or very comfortable given her lack of clothes. And what if he came back and walked right by her, unseen as she sat on the road in the dark. In any case he hadn't given her permission to sit down. She decided to remain standing as long as she could.

Then the answer came to her, like a bolt of lightning from the clear blue sky. It was a test! He hadn't left; he was just beyond earshot, watching her. It all fit, the chains and hood, the way he'd vanished, and his last words, “stay here.” Her task was to obey him, to stand right where he'd left her, no matter what.

Underneath the hood she smiled in satisfaction. She had the answer now. Her obedience was a source of pride for her. She would be rooted to this spot for as long as it took, no matter what happened. Foolish , she told herself. I should have picked up on it right away. There's no one else out here. It's the only possible explanation.

She thought back, visualizing where he had been just before he left her. He must be over there, to my left , she thought. I bet he's sitting there, have a great time watching me have a panic attack. Well, I'll show him!

Carefully she pivoted to the left, deliberately keeping one foot planted in the spot where he'd left her, taking a guess as to where he was waiting. She straightened her back, spread her ankles as far as the chain would allow, and held her head up high, not that the collar allowed for much else.

“I figured it out, sir. I know you're there, in front of me. How much longer do you want me to stand here, as you ordered?”

The Wrong Answer

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the boulder. Her guess as to where he was would have been accurate, if he hadn't removed his shoes and circled around behind her. He took out his pocket watch, opened the cover and pressed the button to illuminate the face. Not more than three minutes for her to get this far. He nodded in appreciation. She was smart and remarkably fast in figuring out his intentions. He had expected at least five or ten minutes. Idly he wondered if she had noticed he'd left the mechanical pocket watch on the dresser. The desert night was so quiet the ticking would have given him away.

She hadn't figured it out, not yet. A simple obedience test would have been too easy. No, this particular mind game was just beginning.

Ten yards away, behind her, he studied her back, outlined in the moon's glow. Her head was a featureless black oval, completely enclosed in the hood. The black nylon strap gripping her elbows drew a dividing line across her back. Below it he could see her hands, close together. He could imagine how irritated she must be with those handcuffs right now.

She was waiting for him to answer her challenge. He admired her cleverness in how she had made her announcement. Just what had she figured out? All she needed was one word from him and all her suppositions would be confirmed.

He had no intention of answering her. He pushed the timer button on his watch. How long before she began to doubt he was really there?

Meanwhile she continued her defiant stance, facing her mental picture of him sitting on a rock. “What gave it away, sir, were the keys. I didn't pay attention at first, but why would you suddenly change your normal procedure and leave the cuff keys in the front seat? And why make a big production of it, so I'd know too? You never did that before. And I'm sure you don't have a hole in your pocket. I check all your pants, every time I do the laundry.

“There's only one reason for it, sir. You wanted me to remember you couldn't unlock the handcuffs while we were out here. But, why? Before now, you have never taken the cuffs off until we got back from a walk. That means you knew in advance something would happen, where you'd need those keys, or at least I'd think so.

“See, sir? It's like Sherlock Holmes, the story where Holmes asks why the dog does not bark in the night. Or why you didn't bring my keys in the night? You knew ahead of time. You intended to test me. Elementary, so here I am, sir, right where you left me.”

He nodded in appreciation. She'd worked it out very skillfully, by deduction. The part about adding in the line from his favorite Conan-Doyle story, The Silver Blaze , was a nice touch. She'd be feeling quite pleased with herself, smug, maybe even a little disappointed she'd solved the mystery so quickly.

The hazard of deductive reasoning, as he had been forced to learn long ago, is that it only works if one has all the relevant facts, and there is only one possible explanation that fits all those facts. She had done well with what he'd given her, but it wasn't enough to accurately determine his intentions this night.

“Sir? May I sit down now? I'm getting tired. Might I have a drink of water, too?”

The water bottle he'd slung over his shoulder was lying at his feet. She was trying every trick she could think of, even appealing to his sense of duty, to take care of her. She probably didn't realize it, but she'd made a mistake. For her to go that far, the doubts must be starting.

She'd finished the ride on the children's rollercoaster. Now it was time for the adult version.

Walking the Line

She was getting annoyed at his refusal to answer her. She had been worried for a moment, until she had worked out his scheme. Was he sulking, refusing to answer out of spite? She didn't believe that. He'd never punished her for being quick-witted.

No, he wasn't the vindictive type. She knew him well enough; he'd gracefully concede if she outsmarted him. Problem was, it didn't explain why he wasn't cooperating now.

The hood was driving her to distraction. She was positive he was out there, close by, perhaps within an arm's length of her. And she had no way of finding him with that thing over her head. All she needed was one little sound, a footstep, a cough, a sneeze; it was so quiet even the ticking from his old watch should give him away.

What if he's hurt, or unconscious? She pushed aside that particular thought. No, the answer had to be a test, and he was just being his usual stubborn, dominating self. Besides, how could he have an accident out here?

Trip over a root, fall down, hit his head on a rock; stumble over the side of a hidden ravine in the dark, fall in, hit his head; step into an unfenced, unmarked open mineshaft…every possibility ran through her head. Maybe she hadn't been so clever after all. Last week, hadn't there been a phone call while she was doing his laundry? Did she remember to check his pockets afterward? Maybe there was a hole in his pocket.

Her house of cards came tumbling down. He really had left the keys in the truck; there was no test. And why would he contrive some kind of test for her? He knew she'd do anything he asked, no questions, no hesitation. He was somewhere out there, lying in the desert, hurt, bleeding, unconscious, and there was nothing she could do.

“Sir! Can you hear me?” she shouted as loud as she could. “Please sir, make some sound so I know where you are! Tell me what to do!” She paused, listening for any kind of response. Then she made a quarter turn, and tried again, shouting to attract his attention. She tried twice more, till she'd made a complete circle, and still no reply.

Breathing hard, she started shaking too. It was a nightmare scenario; he was seriously injured, and she was so closely restrained she could do nothing to help. There was no way to call for help, no way to find him, and no way for her to free herself.

Or was there? She stopped, took a deep breath, and forced down the panic. The keys! They were back in the front seat of the truck, not in his pocket. One of those keys would open her handcuffs. That's all it would take. She could get the rest off after that.

Her mind raced, working on possibilities. Get back to the campsite, get the restraints off, come back in the truck and look for him. She could do it; she had to do it, or both of them might well perish. No one knew they were out here, no one would come looking. Even if they were reported as missing, it would take days or weeks for search parties to locate them.

The first task would be to find her way back to the pickup. She tried to visualize what the road had looked like, when they had driven by earlier. There were no sharp curves, no side roads, it was paved all the way, and it ran uphill. As long as she stayed on the asphalt it would take her back to their camp site, where the road ended. That shouldn't be a problem, provided she started in the right direction.

“Sir? If you can hear me, I'm going to walk back to the truck! I'll come back for you as soon as I can!” She listened intently for any sign he had heard. The desert was so hushed she was sure she could hear the proverbial pin drop. But there was no response.

Her plan immediately hit the first obstacle. A simple question, but one she couldn't answer. Which way was uphill? The grade wasn't steep. It would be obvious if she could see. She would have to guess, and then hope she could tell as she went along the road. She remembered from the drive up here there was one spot where the road had a perceptible slope, a place they had not crossed on foot; if she went the wrong way she'd find it soon enough.

They had been headed downhill when they stopped. She wasn't sure, but she thought she still faced in the same general direction. Hoping she was right, she turned around and took a step forward. More pavement, so far so good; four more steps and she found the side of the road when her left foot landed in gravel. Road will always be to the right, remember that , she told herself.

With one foot on the shoulder and one on the asphalt, she started the trek back to her only hope of rescue. It wasn't easy; every time she drifted to the left or right she had to work her way back to the edge. Again and again she cursed his choice of short leg chains and how they slowed her down. But she was sure she was making progress.

The Pin Drop

When she started across the road, he switched on the flashlight, to make sure she wouldn't run into anything. In a way it was ironic. Her path was lit up by the beam from the flashlight, but it did her no good. She stopped when she reached the shoulder. He waited to see if she would choose the right direction. If she started downhill he had decided beforehand to end her excursion if she didn't turn around within a few minutes.

Fortunately for him, unfortunately for her, she headed uphill when she continued on. He admired her ingenuity in following the side of the road rather than trying to stay in the middle. It was easy enough to follow her at a distance, while keeping her in the cone of light. He could reach her in a second if she ran into any kind of difficulty. With his shoes off she wasn't going to hear him walking behind her, as long as he kept some distance and was careful not to make any noise.

In the moonlight he could see the end of the road up ahead. At her current rate she'd reach it in about five minutes. She'd have no idea it was so close. It would be interesting to see what she would do when she reached the parking area. The truck was in the middle of the pavement, not close to the edge. How was she going to find it, or for that matter figure out when she'd reached the end of the road?

Standing a few yards behind, he saw her pause when she drifted onto the road. She immediately stopped, and then began sliding her feet to the side, until she found the edge again. He noticed how she was careful to remain facing the same direction. He grinned, realizing she'd figured out the next problem already.

Sure enough, when she took a step onto the parking area, she came to a stop, and slid to the side. Another step, slide, and another; she must know the contour had changed. She stopped again, but this time she didn't look for the edge of the road.

He took the opportunity to quietly work his way around to the truck, following the other side of the road. She must know she was very close to her goal, he was sure of it. But now it was dead reckoning, purely from memory. There were no lines in the road for her to follow to get to the truck. Those last few feet would be the most difficult.

The solution she came up was surprising simple. Leaning against the truck, he saw her take a step back, to the gravel shoulder, make a quarter turn, and begin walking straight ahead. She passed by him on the other side of the truck, missing her mark by no more than two feet. When she reached the far end of the pavement she stopped, turned around, and started across at another angle. This time she was further away.

On the fifth leg of her search pattern he could see she was headed directly for the truck. He backed away so she could find the driver side door. As he expected, when she ran into the pickup she stopped, turned around so she could touch the side with her hands, and then worked her way around to the door by touch.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to her chains, holding them tightly so they wouldn't make any noise. It was the set she expected to find on the car seat. She had heard him open and close the door, presumably leaving the keys inside. In fact, he would never have taken her on the walk without the means to release her. Her original deduction had been accurate; there was no hole in his pocket.

She found the door, but had some trouble getting it open. By leaning forward she could raise her hands, behind her back, high enough to reach the door handle. Once she got the door open she began exploring the driver's seat, looking for the key ring.

He let her make a thorough search. From her increasingly frantic efforts he could tell she was near despair. The keys in his hand were her only hope, and that hope was fading away. She ran her hands all over the seat, then bent her knees to reach the floor, then back to the seat again, even working her fingers into the crack between the seat and back. She suddenly stopped and leaned back against the seat. He could hear her crying. It was time to end the rollercoaster ride.

As quietly as possible he approached the open door. When he was within arm's reach of her he bent over and quietly whispered in her ear, “You were told to stay where you were.”

Doing What's Right

He had to draw back when she jumped straight up. He smiled in satisfaction. Complete, total surprise; no one could fake a reaction like that. She'd had no idea he had been with her all through her ordeal.

“Sir! Sir? Is it you? Are you okay? What happened? I heard you leave, but you never came back! I called out to you. I was trying to get back here to find the keys, before I drove back to look for you. But I couldn't find the keys to the cuffs, and I didn't know what to do…” She bumped into the truck door while frantically talking.

He put his hands on her waist and drew her away from the truck. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight. She laid her head on his shoulder, still crying. “I was so scared. I thought you'd fallen, I don't know, somehow you'd been hurt. I couldn't get to you. You were out there and I was so helpless! I couldn't do anything to help…”

“Shssh,” he told her softly, stroking the hood where it covered the back of her head. “Don't worry, I'm all right. And you were, too. I was right there, near you, watching over you.”

Still holding her in one arm he loosened the straps on the collar with his free hand. “Here, let's get this off.” He let go of her in order to pull off the high, stiff posture collar. “I bet you'd like to get rid of that hood too?” He tossed the collar into the back of the truck.

She twisted her head from side to side, working out the stiffness in her neck. “Yes, sir,” was her cautious answer, for she knew his question did not mean he would actually take it off. And if she said anything more she was likely to start on him for the ordeal he had just put her through. She knew she had to calm down before that particular conversation began.

He rolled up the edge of the hood over her chin before pulling it off her head. Finally, she could see again! The moon was still up and shining brightly. She blinked a few times, looking around at her surroundings. Being deprived of something she always took for granted had been a new and different experience. Her journey through the darkness tonight gave her a new appreciation for the ability to see.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She tilted back her head to look up at him. Tonight had been one full of emotional swings, from smug assurance, to fear and desperation, then panic, and the shock of discovering it had all been one of his mind games. She tried to keep out the tone of rising anger when she began, “Sir? Why did you…”

“No,” he interrupted, “not yet. Before you start chewing me out, I want you to calm down and listen.”

Though she wanted nothing more than to rip his head off right at that moment, the ingrained habit of obedience was too strong for her to disobey. And then there was the small matter of the handcuffs and leg chains, and lack of clothing, that served as a reminder that she was in no position to argue with him.

“You did well tonight,” he began. “As far as you knew, you were in a very serious situation. But you didn't panic. You kept your head, thought it out, and did the best you could with what you had.”

She leaned her head back to look up at him. “But, sir, I did panic. When I couldn't find the keys in the truck, I lost it. I had no idea what to do next.”

He leaned down to kiss her. “I admit that was a dirty trick.” His hands slid down her arms to stop at her wrists. “I just couldn't let you get loose.” He massaged her wrists around the imprisoning circlets of steel. “I meant down the road, when I left you standing there. You had no idea what was going on, but you kept your wits. Good try at getting me to say something, by the way.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “I was so sure you were testing me. Oh! I did disobey, sir. You told me to stay there, but I came back here instead…”

“Not to worry, exceptional circumstances,” he interrupted. “Besides, it was my intention that you try to make your way back to the truck, so you didn't really disobey.”

Then the missing clue struck her. “Sir, it wasn't the keys, it was the way you put the handcuffs on me tonight. You knew I wouldn't be able to get them off, even with the keys, if you had put them on the normal way. It wasn't a mistake, the keyhole toward my hands, was it?”

He laughed. “You got me. You had to have some hope, slim as it was. I hoped you wouldn't notice, or if you did you'd assume it was a mistake. I had a line ready if you said something about it.”

“And if I had complained? You know I don't like any chance to get loose.”

He stroked her hair. “No, you don't. No halfway measures for you. My answer would have been that if you don't like the way they are, take them off and change it yourself.” He laughed again.

“Very funny, sir.” She looked up at him, shaking her head. She looked over her shoulder, holding her arms out behind her. “Speaking of which, they still aren't right.”

He grabbed her hair in his hand and jerked her head around, forcing her to look at him. “For what I have in mind, they'll be just fine as is.” He kissed her, long and passionate, tongues searching out each other. With his free hand he grabbed one of her bare breasts.

She moaned as she melted against him. Roughly he pushed her back, spun her around, and marched her toward the tent, one of his large hands wrapped around her upper arm. He moved so fast she couldn't keep up, nearly falling as her ankles were entangled in the leg chains. But he caught her in time, swept her up in his arms, and carried her the rest of the way.

It hurt, but she didn't care. She knew exactly what he had in mind, and was just as eager to get to the tent as he was. She might have guessed wrong on the road, but this time the deduction was so elementary even Dr. Watson would have no trouble figuring out what would occur in the night.