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”“I won’t help you in any way, so you may as well forget it,” the agents retorts with disgust in her voice. If she didn’t have a hood on, she’d spit in the major’s face.“We’ll see how your attitude changes once you’re settled in,” the man says, his grin turning into a knowing smile. He pulls her along and two men from the escort slip forward to jab their rifles into her back, signaling her to start walking.“Farwell, Miss Roberts,” Sergey says, closing the door to the helicopter. It lifts off, kicking up more snow as it departs. The wind howls, biting into Samantha’s skin as she is escorted to the door of the base.“Can I at least get a coat?” she asks with her voice full of spite.“Don’t worry, we are almost inside where it is warm,” the major replies.Samantha doesn’t know how she plans to get out of her, and even if it is possible, she has no idea where she will go.Roger looks at the address once more as he exits the city. He wasn’t aware the Frank McMillan has a place near Fairfax. "This of course made my gradually increasing need to pee all the more pressing. Her rubbing my engorged nub made it all the more wrenching to try to control my bursting bladder."Ella, please," I whimpered, reducing to pleading with my suddenly—but oh so softly—dominant daughter, "please don't make your mother wet the bed, please..."She loosened the ropes holding my legs and arms and I felt her press under my bottom so I would lift it and she managed to wedge a bowl under me so that my vulva was right above it. The scary thought rocketed through my consciousness that Ella was going to make me humiliate myself more by pissing into this bowl in front of her.When I felt my bottom now atop this bowl, while still bound loosely and blindfolded, Ella gave me the embarrassing command, "You may relieve yourself into the bowl, Mother. Now be quick about it, because I don't have all day to tend to your needs."I overcame my natural resistance to performing this most private function in front of.
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For all they knew, their sadistic captor might have been keeping them for months. Time seemed to pass more slowly as their wretched imprisonment and sexual abuse dragged on…Today was no different. Ashley and Brad were in the basement. Nothing but faded gray light peeked in through the tiny rectangular windows, and a storm was brewing outside. Ashley and Brad were naked. Each of them had an iron shackle encircling one ankle, and each captive’s shackle was connected to a sturdy, metal chain that had been bolted securely into the wall. The two captives had their wrists tied tightly behind their backs. There were no blankets, no pillows, nothing for them to lay on except the unyielding concrete floor. Now and then Brad would sit and cradle Ashley’s head in his lap, or she would do the same for him. Their bodies ached not just from the constant abuse, but also from the hard surfaces on which they had to sit or lay upon. It was a never-ending, if somewhat banal hell. The truly frightening.

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