<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Southrook on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/southrook/</link><description>Recent content in Southrook on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Wed, 28 Apr 2021 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/southrook/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2021/04/28/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Wed, 28 Apr 2021 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2021/04/28/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Continues from &lt;a href="kingdom15.html"&gt;chapter fifteen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h3 id="chapter-16---pain-is-temporary-katies-story"&gt;CHAPTER 16 - PAIN IS TEMPORARY (KATIE’S STORY)&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I shifted weakly in my restraints, hoping to find a more comfortable position on the bed I was restrained to. For the past several hours, I’d been lying on my back, immobilized by a latex straitjacket and leashed to the top of my bed frame. A leather strap connecting the front and back of the straitjacket ran uncomfortably between my naked legs. Fortunately, my feet were left unrestrained so I was able to curl in a fetal position to compensate for the lack of a blanket.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2021/02/02/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Tue, 02 Feb 2021 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2021/02/02/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Continues from &lt;a href="kingdom14.html"&gt;chapter fourteen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h3 id="chapter-15--nights-and-days-brandys-story"&gt;CHAPTER 15 – NIGHTS AND DAYS (BRANDY’S STORY)&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I exhaled deeply as the dub-step song blaring from the ceiling speakers of my cell repeated. The song had been edited so that it played seamlessly on loop, but after days of listening to the same song, I’d managed to pinpoint the exact moment when the original song ended. Approximately 4 minutes and 19 seconds in, there was a distinguishable pop and change in tempo. From there, I was able to count that the song had played 34 times since the guard had last left me. This meant that I’d been restrained in my current position for roughly 2 hours and 27 minutes. Combined with the roughly 6 hours of other various bondage positions prior to that, this brought the time to nearly 0 eight-hundred hours. Give or take a few minutes.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2020/01/28/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Jan 2020 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2020/01/28/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Continues from &lt;a href="kingdom13.html"&gt;chapter thirteen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h3 id="chapter-14--sympathy-for-the-devil"&gt;CHAPTER 14 – SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I woke up with a splitting migraine, lying on my back atop a hard surface. Groaning in agony, I lifted my hands to my throbbing forehead. My arms were heavy as lead and I felt as if I’d just finished running a marathon. My head ached so severely that I could barely open my eyes. Through blurred vision, I could see aged wooden rafters above me and the sound of running, splashing water could be heard.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2020/01/08/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Wed, 08 Jan 2020 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2020/01/08/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Continues from &lt;a href="kingdom12.html"&gt;chapter twelve&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h3 id="chapter-13--window-shopping"&gt;CHAPTER 13 – WINDOW SHOPPING&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The cool morning air gave me goosebumps as I speed-walked down Court Street toward the Inns. Like the morning prior, I seemed to be the only person up at this hour. I hadn’t informed Katie that I was leaving, but judging by volume of her snores when I left, I doubted she’d even notice my absence.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I’d hardly slept at all that night. In the hours following Alpha’s warning about Katie, my mind ricocheted from one conspiracy theory to the next. Despite our amazing evening together, I was now just as unsettled and anxious as I was before Katie arrived. But even after Alpha’s message, my instinct was to trust her. Whatever happened with her profile, Katie just didn’t seem like the manipulative type. Quite frankly, it was hard to imagine her even telling a &lt;em&gt;fib&lt;/em&gt; without blushing. The more logical explanation was that this was all an administrative mistake and she knew nothing about it.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2019/11/24/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sun, 24 Nov 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/11/24/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Continues from &lt;a href="kingdom11.html"&gt;chapter eleven&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h3 id="chapter-12---peach"&gt;CHAPTER 12 - PEACH&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I woke up to the sound of loud fast-paced beeping. I blinked and groggily looked around. I was in Katie’s room at the health clinic, seated in the padded armchair next to her bed. I glanced up toward the health monitor to my right that was emitting the loud beeping. Flashing in red at the top of the screen was the word “ALERT” and a horizontal red line scrolled across the middle of the screen next to a symbol of a crossed-out heart.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2019/06/09/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sun, 09 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/09/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom9.html"&gt;chapter 9&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 10: Forbidden Fruit&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was a foggy morning and the air felt cooler than it had the night before. Shivering outside of the building I previously knew to be the call center, I rubbed my arms in an attempt to stay warm. The sign hanging above the glass doors to the building now read “TRADING POST”. I recognized it as the same sign that used to hang over the ATM kiosks at the front of the park. It was surreal to consider how a simple Renaissance-themed sign intended to help guests find a place to withdraw cash could now imply something as perverse as &lt;em&gt;slave trading&lt;/em&gt;.
 
I glanced down at my phone to check the time. 7:57am. A sign taped to the inside of the glass door in front of me read “Business hours: 8am-6pm”. Inside, several women in burgundy uniforms could be seen working in their cubicles but nobody made eye contact with me or seemed to notice that I was there.
 
While it wasn’t cold enough outside for me to see my breath, it certainly felt freezing. I’d regretfully neglected to buy a heavier jacket when I was clothing shopping earlier in the week. Tapping my foot impatiently, I sat atop the hard black suitcase that I’d discovered on my doorstep the day earlier. I still had no idea what was inside, given the fact that it was combination-locked. But at least it was something dry to me sit on. Next to me was a trash bag with all of my other belongings. As per Murphy’s request, I had packed everything from the suite in preparation to check out for the trade.
 
I hadn’t slept much. I hated not having been able to speak with Katie the night prior before leaving the stadium. It made me sick not knowing if Murphy had explained things adequately to her. The thought of her wondering whether I’d abandoned her was upsetting, to say the least. I nervously glanced up and down the cobblestone street, eager to catch a glimpse of Murphy and Katie walking toward me. But the street was empty. At 8:00 on the money, a woman unlocked the glass doors and held one open for me. I could see that her wrists were handcuffed in front of her.
 
“Welcome,” she said pleasantly. “Thank you for waiting so patiently,” I walked in, dragging my suitcase and trash bag behind me. I instantly relaxed as a gust of warm air met me. “Do you have an appointment with anyone in particular?” She asked.
 
“No,” I said. “Wait- was I supposed to?”
 
“Oh no,” she replied reassuringly. “We can see you right away. I just didn’t know if anyone had been helping you already.”
 
“No… I just made a deal with someone last night and he told me to meet him here,” I explained.
 
“Okay, great,” the woman replied. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind following me over to one of our notaries, she’ll get you taken care of.”
 
I followed the woman past cubicles occupied with handcuffed women tapping away at their keyboards. Everything in the building looked pretty much the same as I’d left it when I closed the Ren Faire for the season. Everything except for the BDSM-themed artwork that now hung on throughout the office. Each cubicle sported at least one of these.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2019/06/09/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sun, 09 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/09/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom8.html"&gt;chapter 8&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 9: The Auction&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing loudly in my ear. I ignored it until the ringing finally stopped. Moments later, the phone rang again. Barely awake, I groggily reached over to the nightstand, lifted the phone into the air and slammed it back down onto the receiver. I exhaled in relief as the incessant ringing stopped once more. Rolling onto my side, I felt oddly disoriented. Despite the plush mattress beneath me, my back ached as if I had slept the night on a concrete slab. My eyes opened just wide enough for me to see the red lights of the LED clock next to me. The time read 2:49pm. Opening my eyes wider, I could see that I was back in my suite. I laid in silence contemplating how I had gotten here. The last thing I remembered was… shit… What was the last thing I remembered?
 
Every muscle in my body ached simultaneous as I used my arms to push myself upright into a seated position. I was completely naked. I groaned as I delicately shifted my legs to hang over the edge of the bed. I felt as if I’d been hit by a bus. Staring blankly at the wall in front of me, I continued wracking my brain to find my bearings. Why on earth did I feel so horrible?
 
Suddenly, everything came flooding back. The kennel, Brandy, Annabelle, Katie, the extractor… The day prior had been both a physical and emotional hell. From Brandy enslaving me, to Katie planting drugs in the suite, to all three of us being thrown into the kennel, to me having my pussy vibrated to oblivion while I was trapped in a strict hogtie. Fuck, it really had been an awful day. No wonder I felt so sore. But how did I get back here?
 
Still staring blankly at the wall in front of me, I vaguely recalled being driven by security guards back to my suite in a golf-cart. It was dark outside, so it must have been sometime late last night. Or early this morning. I remember him saying something to me as I was carried into the suite, but I couldn’t remember what… After he laid on the bed, everything went blank.
 
I stood to my feet, clenching the down comforter to help me maintain my balance. I walked gingerly to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet to take a piss. Damn, even my crotch ached! The extractor had really done a number on me! Standing up to wash my hands, my heart skipped a beat as I saw my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles encompassed my eyes and my hair resembled a disheveled bird’s nest. But as beastly as I may have looked, my appearance was not the cause of the pit that had suddenly formed in my stomach. It was the bright red collar around my neck… My heart momentarily stopped beating. I was wearing a collar again! My hands shot to my neck in terror.
 
What the hell?! I ran my fingers frantically around the collar, searching for a buckle or clasp to unlock. But the collar appeared to be mechanically locked, just as my previous collar had been. “What the fuck?!” I said out loud. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus… Think, Ally. How did this happen? Who did this? Why was this collar red? After nearly a minute of staring at my reflection, the phone rang again, snapping me out of my contemplative state. I spun around in frustration and stormed back into the bedroom.
 
“What?!” I said loudly into the phone. “What is it?!”
 
I heard a click on the other line followed by a cheerful recording of a woman’s voice, “Hello. This is a prerecorded message reminding you about your disciplinary hearing at… 3 o’clock PM… at the Administration Bureau. Please arrive 10 minutes prior to your appointment. Thank you.”
 
My heartbeat continued to race as I processed the words. Disciplinary hearing? What the fuck did that mean?
 
“If you would like to hear this message again, please press 1.”
 
I hung up the phone, and merely stared at it. I was still too disoriented to grasp what was going on. Disciplinary hearing??? Had the security guard explained this to me last night? Shit, it really did seem like I was living one nightmare after another.
 
I kept replaying the words “Disciplinary hearing at 3 o’clock PM” over and over in my head, desperate to trigger some sort of memory. Just then, I glanced back at the LED clock that read 2:56pm. Shit. Wherever the Administration Bureau was, I was supposed to be there in exactly 4 minutes. Technically, I should have been there 6 minutes ago, if I was abiding by the instructions to arrive 10 minutes early.
 
I quickly turned and walked back into the foyer where I’d left my shopping bags from the day prior. But to my surprise, nothing was there. I spun around, frantically scanning the suite. C’mon, Ally, I thought. Where the fuck did you put them? I walked back into the bedroom and opened the door to the walk-in closet. Nothing… Storming back into the foyer, my eye caught a piece of paper on the entry hall table that I’d missed earlier. It was a hand-written note…
 
&lt;em&gt;Dear Jodie,&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;em&gt;In the event that your addled state of mind caused you to forget, please note that your disciplinary hearing is set for 3:00pm at the Corrections Office. Please arrive 10 minutes early dressed ONLY in your probation collar. Once you have signed over custody of Ms. Michaels, your belongings will be returned to you and you will be free to go. See you soon,&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Mistress Annabelle&lt;/em&gt;
 
Beneath her signature was a brochure map. A red circle had been drawn around the old wine distillery on the opposite side of the castle. While we knew it as the “catacombs”, a dot at the entrance now read &lt;em&gt;Corrections Bureau.&lt;/em&gt; The catacombs did seem uniquely fitting for a location that dealt with “corrections”. It was basically an underground dungeon. Of &lt;em&gt;course&lt;/em&gt; Annabelle would have her office in a dungeon. &lt;em&gt;Fucking vampire&lt;/em&gt;.
 
I reread the letter quickly, flipping it over to make sure I didn’t miss anything on the back side. &lt;em&gt;Dressed only in my probation collar?&lt;/em&gt; She expected me to go there naked?! Dammit, this woman really was a bitch! With a deep sigh, I snatched the lanyard with my keycard off of the table and marched angrily out the door.
 
It was raining outside. Not too hard, but hard enough to piss me off that I was forced to experience it without any clothes on. Not wanting to know what would happen if I arrived late, I jogged down the stone staircase of the castle. To my relief, the square was relatively empty of guests. Likely, due to the rain. You could almost &lt;em&gt;smell&lt;/em&gt; all the sex that was going on while everyone was staying dry in their rooms.
 
After a short jog around the castle, I reached the cobblestone ramp that descended beneath the castle bridge to the catacombs. A sign hanging above the door read “Corrections Bureau”. I walked through the door and shivered as a gust of cold air met my wet skin. An entry bell jingled as the door closed behind me. The air felt dingy and dank down here. Stone lined the floors, walls, and hanging wrought iron lamps gave the long entry hall an eerie orange glow. In the middle of the hallway sat a woman at a semi-circled desk. Behind her at the end of the hall stood two security guards on either side of the large wooden door.
 
Despite my nakedness, I took a deep breath and confidently approached the woman sitting behind the counter. She was dressed just as Katie had been dressed when I first met her- White blouse, grey vest, and a burgundy choker. Her hands were handcuffed in front of her as she typed on a keyboard.
 
“Hi, how may I help you?” She asked pleasantly.
 
“Yeah,” I replied slightly out of breath, “I’m here for a hearing or something.”
 
“A disciplinary hearing?” the receptionist asked.
 
“Sure,” I answered, rolling my eyes. Were there &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; other kinds?
 
“Very good. Please take a seat and Mistress Annabelle will be with you shortly,” she replied, gesturing both cuffed hands towards the benches that ran along the entire length of the wall.
 
I walked over to the nearest bench seat and sat down, still shivering from the cold dank air. The receptionist returned to typing feverishly on her keyboard. I crossed my legs, attempting to cover myself as much as possible.
 
Less than a minute later, a loud buzzer sounded, causing the guards in the back of the room to enter the office. Moments later, they reappeared through the doorway dragging a naked bald guy in a red collar. He shouted into a large ball-gag, twisting and tugging to escape their grip, but the guards seemed relatively unfazed. Behind them followed Annabelle, dressed in a tight-fitting purple pantsuit.
 
“Don’t fight it, Mr. Leland. Be a good boy and you’ll find that a week in the kennel will go rather quickly,” Annabelle said patronizingly. She followed them as they walked past the front desk and exited the building. Leaning out the doorway, she shouted after him- “I’ll stop by in a few hours to make sure you’re settled in properly.”
 
With a satisfied grin, Annabelle let the door close and walked back to the semi-circled desk.
 
“Mistress,” the receptionist greeted her quietly, bowing her head.
 
Annabelle ignored her picking up the clipboard. “Who’s next?” She asked.
 
“Me,” I replied, standing to my feet. My face was expressionless and I attempted to look as tough as possible.
 
Turning toward me, Annabelle’s face suddenly lit up. “Miss O’Connell!” she replied. “Long time no see!”
 
 “What’s the deal with this?” I challenged, pointing to my collar.
 
“It’s only temporary, dear,” she replied. “I’ll remove it once you’ve signed our agreement.”
 
“Was it really necessary to force me to come here naked?” I asked.
 
Annabelle paused and looked back at the clipboard in her hand. “Hannah, Is there a reason that Miss O’Connell’s name isn’t on the sign-in sheet?” She asked the receptionist, placing it in front of her.
 
“I’m… sorry, Mistress. I forgot to ask her to sign in,” the girl replied sheepishly.
 
Annabelle leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk. “You forgot?” she asked.
 
“Yes, Mistress,” the girl replied.
 
“What do you suppose might help you not forget in the future?” Annabelle asked, leaning forward and placing her hands on the desk.
 
The girl hesitated. “I don’t know, Mistress,” she answered quietly.
 
“I think I know just the thing that will help,” Annabelle answered. She reached forward and pressed a button on Hannah’s office phone. “Security, this is Annabelle. Please send a replacement for Hannah at reception.”
 
“Yes ma’am,” a male voice on the other end answered. “Do you have a preference for her replacement?”
 
“Uh, yes, actually. Shannon if she’s available.”
 
“Yes, ma’am,” the male voice replied.
 
“And please send a guard to escort Hannah to the kennel,” Annabelle added. “She’ll be spending the rest of her shift in corrections-“
 
“Oh good grief,” I said, storming over to the desk. Annabelle’s eyebrows raised in surprise as I grabbed a pen and scribbled my fake name on the sign-in sheet. “She didn’t forget to ask me. I refused.”
 
Annabelle stared at me for a moment, contemplating her next words. “Is this true, Hannah?” She asked.
 
The girl named Hannah hesitated, her eyes glancing nervously back and forth from me to Annabelle. Then she gave a slight nod. “Yes, Mistress,” she whispered.
 
Annabelle and I continued staring at each other until the male voice on the phone interrupted us, “Um, is that all ma’am?”
 
After a pause, a sinister smile came across Annabelle’s face. “Yes,” she answered. “In fact, please inform Shannon that she will be my new acting secretary. Hannah has been reassigned.”
 
“Yes ma’am,” the voice replied, followed by a click and dial tone.
 
“Oh come on,” I interjected. “I just told you that it was my fault. You don’t have to be a bitch.”
 
“Hannah, repeat after me,” Annabelle said coldly, still staring at me. “Miss O’Connell-“
 
The girl stared down at the desk and softly replied, “Miss O’Connell-”
 
“Thanks to your insubordination-” Annabelle continued.
 
“Thanks to your insubordination-” Hannah repeated.
 
“I have lost a coveted desk job that I worked very hard for.”
 
“I have lost a coveted desk job that I worked very hard for.”
 
“You may have thought that you were helping me by lying on my behalf-”
 
“You may have thought that you were helping me by lying on my behalf-”
 
“-but you have actually made my circumstances much… much worse.”
 
“-but you have actually made my circumstances much much worse.”
 
The girl’s voice was now shaky and it sounded as if she was now on the verge of tears. I glared silently into Annabelle’s eyes, feeling my face flush with anger.
 
“What was originally set to be a mere two hours of corrections-” Annabelle continued.
 
“What was originally set to be a mere two hours of corrections-” the girl echoed.
 
“-has now become 24 hours in the kennel.”
 
“Please, Mistress- I didn’t mean to-” Hannah interjected softly.
 
“-has now become &lt;em&gt;48&lt;/em&gt; hours in the kennel,” Annabelle corrected herself.
 
Hannah took a deep sigh and continued, “-has now become 48 hours in the kennel.”
 
“Followed by a permanent reassignment as…” Annabelle tilted her head, staring off into the distance in thought, “resident at the Laughing Place”.
 
Hannah began to whimper. “Please no,” she begged in a whisper.
 
“Finish it,” Annabelle ordered forcefully.
 
Hannah continued, now in tears, “Followed by a permanent reassignment as resident at the Laughing Place.” Hannah sobbed and hung her head in misery.
 
From behind me, I heard the wooden door creak open. A security guard escorted a young petite Indian woman to stand next to us.
 
“Guard, please see that Hannah finds her way to the kennel,” Annabelle said. “I’ll be along shortly to see that she’s processed and settled in.”
 
“This isn’t necessary,” I said forcefully, “She didn’t do anything wrong!”
 
Annabelle’s finger suddenly shot up to my face. “Another word and her kennel visit turns into a week.”
 
I could do nothing but grit my teeth and scowl. I couldn’t ever remember hating someone so much. She was torturing this poor girl just to hurt me. After witnessing me vouch for Katie last night, she had obviously realized that I was an empathetic person. And now, she was using that against me…
 
The guard grabbed Hannah by the arm and pulled her to her feet.
 
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” she said through tears as she was tugged away to the door. Annabelle ignored her as she walked past
 
A few moments later, both Hannah and the guard disappeared through the door and into the rain. The girl named Shannon sat down in the empty seat behind the desk without saying anything.
 
“If I remember correctly, poor Hannah had only one request listed on her application. &lt;em&gt;Please no tickling&lt;/em&gt;.” Annabelle gave an exaggerated shudder. “She’s not going to enjoy the Laughing Place.” Then, Annabelle turned her gaze back to me. “Okay!” she said, cheerfully, as if nothing had happened. “Follow me to my office.”
 
She promptly turned and walked toward the office door. I followed slowly, shocked at how someone could turn such cruelty on and off with such ease. This woman had to be the closest thing I’d ever witnessed to downright evil.
 
We made our way to the end of the hallway where Annabelle opened the door and motioned me inside. Trying my best to appear confident, I walked in without hesitation. Annabelle closed the door behind me and crossed to the tall leather chair behind her desk.
 
I had no choice but to stand facing opposite her, seeing as how there was no chair for me to sit in. I imagine this was intentional to force her guests to stand in her presence.
 
 “You’re an enigma, Miss O’Connell,” Annabelle continued, lifting her spectacles to her face and looking at her computer screen. “Looking at your records from last year, I see that your previous owner graded you highly submissive. ‘A natural-born subby,’ he writes. ‘Never resists, never talks back, never objects. A true slave at heart.’” Annabelle looked up from her computer and studied me. “It almost as if he’s describing an entirely different person…”
 
My heart skipped beat as I felt a pit form in my stomach. Did she &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; that I wasn’t actually Jodie? I held my breath, attempting to appear as expressionless as humanly possible. “People change,” I replied.
 
Annabelle stared back at me and said nothing for several seconds. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. My mind raced, suspecting the worst.
 
“Clearly,” she finally replied, breaking her stare with me. “Well, whatever the reason is behind your new misguided sense of self-worth, I’m thoroughly looking forward to being done with it.” She picked up a folder on her desk and slid it toward me. I stepped forward and picked it up.
 
“Inside are transfer documents for Ms. Brandy Michaels,” she said. “Once you’ve signed on the last page, she’ll be transferred into my custody.”
 
“And Katie?” I replied as I opened the folder.
 
“Yes,” Annabelle said, removing her spectacles and leaning back in her desk chair, “Katie Huff… After several hours of research and legal consultation, I’m afraid that there is… no mechanism in place for directly transferring Miss Hoff into your custody.”
 
“What?” I challenged, blinking dumbfounded at her. “We had an agreement-”
 
“I’m aware of what we agreed to, but I misspoke,” Annabelle replied, almost sounding exhausting. “I’ve looked into every possible option and believe me when I say-”
 
“That’s just it. I &lt;em&gt;don’t&lt;/em&gt; believe you,” I cut her off. “Look, it’s a simple trade. Brandy for Katie. It’s what you agreed to.”
 
“The &lt;em&gt;problem&lt;/em&gt;…” she began, taking a breath to seemingly compose her impatience, “-is that she is not mine to trade. She is not &lt;em&gt;anybody’s&lt;/em&gt; to trade.”
 
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I replied. “Then, don’t &lt;em&gt;trade&lt;/em&gt; her to me. Just let her come stay with me. I don’t give a shit about &lt;em&gt;custody&lt;/em&gt;.”
 
“That’s not possible,” Annabelle answered.
 
“Why?” I challenged.
 
“Because she has already been tried, convicted, and sentenced for being in possession of illicit drugs,” she explained. “She pleaded guilty in front of our magistrate and was sentenced to 21 days in corrections.”
 
I stared at her with my jaw open. This was all so absurd! “So, you’re telling me that there’s no way to commute her sentence? She’s just stuck in the kennel for the next month?” I asked.
 
“There &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; a way,” Annabelle answered. “But it would require her officially change her status from a staff member to &lt;em&gt;contestant&lt;/em&gt;.
 
“So, what’s the problem?” I asked.
 
“The &lt;em&gt;problem&lt;/em&gt; is that she did not participate in the hunt,” Annabelle fired back in an aggressive voice. “She wasn’t a contestant during the hunt. Therefore, having never been captured, she cannot be treated as &lt;em&gt;property&lt;/em&gt;. If she were a contestant who’d been caught, she could be traded. If she’d been collected by a gamesman, we’d have been happy to trade her to you. But she doesn’t &lt;em&gt;belong&lt;/em&gt; to us. And even if she &lt;em&gt;became&lt;/em&gt; a contestant at this point, she still wouldn’t be ours to trade.”
 
“This is so fucked up,” I muttered, stroking my hair out of my face and staring at the ceiling.
 
“Believe it or not, these rules were put in place to shield employees from unwilling enslavement by their superiors. They protect the staff from being &lt;em&gt;traded&lt;/em&gt; or &lt;em&gt;gifted&lt;/em&gt; against their will,” Annabelle explained.
 
I simply stood there in silence, staring at the ceiling in disbelief.
 
Annabelle finally broke the silence. “According to our attorneys, there’s only one solution to this predicament.”
 
I looked back at her, waiting for her to explain. “Which is…”
 
“Katie would need to officially become a contestant…” Annabelle paused before finishing with, “And submit herself into the auction this evening. At that point, you would have the opportunity to buy her.”
 
“&lt;em&gt;What&lt;/em&gt;?” I spat incredulously. Annabelle simply stared back at me with her hands crossed on the desk in front of her. “No way! Are you &lt;em&gt;serious&lt;/em&gt;? I’m not gonna let Katie be &lt;em&gt;auctioned off.&lt;/em&gt; Are you crazy? What happens if I lose?!”
 
“Then she’d belong to someone else,” Annabelle replied matter of factly. “But that’s unlikely, given your newly acquired fortune. The most any contestant has ever been auctioned for is 800 grand. And let’s just say that she was significantly more endowed than Miss Huff.”
 
“This is so fuckin’ ridiculous,” I said, rubbing my forehead in thought. “There has to be another way.”
 
“There’s not,” Annabelle replied bluntly. “If you want Katie, this is your only option.” I shook my head in disbelief.
 
Annabelle waited patiently as her words sunk in. “So, what’s it gonna be?” she asked.
 
“Hold up-” I replied suddenly, stepping toward her and placing my hands on the desk. “If you’re telling me that I’m going to need to essentially &lt;em&gt;buy&lt;/em&gt; Katie at the auction, why would I ever sign Brandy over to you? What kind of deal is &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt;?”
 
“You’ll sign over Brandy to me because if you don’t, I won’t authorize Katie’s status change. You won’t be able to bid on her tonight because she won’t be eligible to be auctioned off. She’ll be forced to serve out the entirety of her 21-day sentence in the kennel and you’ll remain on probation for the next 42 hours.”
 
I scowled at her and opened my mouth to object.
 
“Careful-” Annabelle interrupted before I could utter a word. “Your mouth has gotten you into trouble at every turn. Contrary to what you might believe, I’ve bent over backwards to make this deal for you. It’s not the solution you dreamt of, but it’s all you’ve got if you want your girl.”
 
She was right. My impulses to mouth off really hadn’t benefited me up to this point. In fact, they’d mostly managed to cause more trouble for everyone… As much as I hated to admit it, my smart-assery wasn’t helping anyone. I needed to start choosing my battles more wisely.
 
“Sign the paper, Jodie,” Annabelle pressed, holding out a pen. I hesitated, studying the pen in her outstretched hand.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2019/06/09/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sun, 09 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/09/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom10.html"&gt;chapter 10&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 11: Hun (Brandy&amp;rsquo;s Story)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Soaking wet from the rain, I tore through the trees, hurtling over fallen branches and roots. A latex hood with cutouts for my eyes, nose, and mouth encompassed my head, keeping the hair out of my eyes. As frustrating as it was to be naked, collared, ring-gagged, crotch-roped with a rubber G-string, and have my arms restrained behind my back, such hindrances had little affect on my speed. And thanks to a lifetime of walking outside barefoot, my feet were far too callused to be daunted by the occasional sharp stone or twig.
 
I panted heavily as I scanned my surroundings. &lt;em&gt;I needed to find the unlocking station!&lt;/em&gt; Once I could free my arms, I knew this would be a completely different ballgame. Hearing what sounded like the loud snap of a twig behind me, I instantly ducked and scuttled behind the nearest tree. I held my breath for several seconds, listening intently for any signs of life. Hearing my pursuers through the latex hood was proving to be quite the challenge. Not to mention the torrential downpour that drowned out virtually every other sound in the entire forest.
 
After a few seconds, I inched my head outward to see around the tree trunk. All I could see was rain and heavily wooded forest. I exhaled, standing once more to my feet. Just then, I felt something cold and hard press against the nape of my neck.
 
“Game over,” said a deep voice.
 
&lt;em&gt;Dammit&lt;/em&gt;, I thought. I recognized the object pressed against my neck as the tip of a rifle. Unlike most rifles, however, this one did not fire bullets or rounds. Instead, this rifle emitted infrared beams. Sounds harmless, right? &lt;em&gt;Wrong&lt;/em&gt;. In any normal setting, being hit with an infrared beam would be as consequential being shined on by a flashlight. But this was no normal setting. The wearable technology I was sporting had basically turned me into a target for laser tag. If an infrared beam were to make contact with any part of &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; body, it would trigger an electrical response in my collar and butt-plug. Oh, didn’t I tell you? The rubber G-string I was wearing had a built in butt-plug. Fucked up, huh? So, upon being hit with an infrared beam from one of these rifles, 3,000 volts of electricity would be distributed simultaneously to both my neck and anus.
 
I sighed and allowed my head to drop forward in a sign of defeat. Statistically, this technique has tested the highest probability of prompting an attacker to lower his weapon. As poor luck would have it, however, the tip of the rifle remained firmly pressed against my neck. &lt;em&gt;Time for plan B&lt;/em&gt;.
 
In one swift move, I turned my head to the side and kicked off of the tree in front of me with my dominant foot. The result was me hurtling backwards and colliding forcefully into my assailant. With my head turned, the tip of the tip of the gun slid across my wet skin and beneath my ear.
 
With the weapon no longer aimed at me, I had milliseconds to execute my next move. My assailant had been knocked off balance, but was still on his feet. &lt;em&gt;This needed to change&lt;/em&gt;. Without hesitation, I parried left nailed him in the side of his knee with my heel. Crying out in pain, he dropped hard to the ground. Seizing what would likely be my only opportunity to knock him out, I spun and leapt into a tornado kick.
 
No sooner did I leave the ground, my assailant managed to aim his rifle towards me and pull the trigger. Agonizing pain shot through me from my neck and anus, causing me to suddenly lose all muscle function. Instead of rotating my torso and landing the kick at his jawline, I merely collapsed to the ground like a sack of potatoes, twitching and convulsing in the mud. Keeping his finger firmly planted on the trigger, I watched helplessly as he stood to his feet and casually stepped behind me.
 
&lt;em&gt;Dammit,&lt;/em&gt; I thought. &lt;em&gt;Did he have to keep the trigger pulled?&lt;/em&gt; I was completely powerless as I felt him grab me by the back of my collar and yank me to my knees. Once I was kneeling in a doggie-style position, my assailant finally released the trigger. I moaned in relief as the electric shocks subsided. But though the pain had ceased, the grimace on my face remained as I braced for the fucking that was soon to follow.
 
I gave an involuntary gasp as I felt him tug my G-string to the side and plunge forcefully inside of me. My eyes suddenly shot wide open. Dammit, the cock was &lt;em&gt;huge&lt;/em&gt;! Huge and ribbed… Fortunately, the rain had kept my vagina fairly lubricated. Otherwise, a cock of this size would have gone in quite uncomfortably. I clenched my fists beneath the armbinder, digging my fingernails into my palms. I growled into my gag as I felt him slide in and out. In and out.
 
After about a minute of this, I heard a loud whistle to my right. My assailant pulled out of me and released the back of my collar, causing me to topple forward onto the ground.
 
“&lt;em&gt;Bas&lt;/em&gt;tard!” I yelled, face down in the mud. But with the ring-gag in my mouth, it came out more like, “Aathawd!” I rolled onto my side and laid panting in a fetal position. Wouldn’t you know, he pulled out just as I was beginning to actually get something pleasurable out of it…
 
My assailant straightened up and stood at attention with hands by his side and feet together. I glared at the large black rubber dildo that was strapped to his naval. &lt;em&gt;Why the fuck did it need to be so large?&lt;/em&gt; I wondered angrily. After a few seconds, several men stepped toward me through the tree line. In front was an older man in his late 70’s dressed in military attire and a rain-repellent trench coat. I recognized him as General Leonard Hersh.
 
“Congratulations, Sergeant,” he said in a growly voice. “You’ve been claimed. Again.” General Hersh stared down at me the way a dog owner looks down at an accident on the kitchen floor. Despite his reputation as a stoic and emotionless leader, his gaunt face was etched with dissatisfaction at my repeated failures to overpower my assailant.
 
I dropped my head in a mixture of shame and resentment. This was my &lt;em&gt;fourth&lt;/em&gt; time being captured this morning. This meant that I had been raped &lt;em&gt;four times&lt;/em&gt; by a fellow navy seals wearing strap-ons. As debasing as that was, it was &lt;em&gt;far&lt;/em&gt; more infuriating to be expected to complete a task that was so implausible. There was simply no way I’d be able to get the jump on an armed attacker while &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; arms were restrained behind my back! Real field conditions or not, this exercise was fucking &lt;em&gt;rigged&lt;/em&gt;.
 
Hold up&amp;hellip; Before I go any further into this story, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Debra Nolan. I’m 26 years of age, blonde, 5 foot 10 inches, and 139 pounds of pure muscle. My code name is Delta November Foxtrot and my mission alias is Brandy Michaels.
 
About a month and a half ago, I was hand selected to join a special operations task force codenamed &lt;em&gt;Mantis&lt;/em&gt;. I was one of 5 women tasked with going undercover inside an international human trafficking syndicate. While I’m hardly a stranger to special ops task forces, &lt;em&gt;nothing&lt;/em&gt; could have prepared me for the training I’d receive for &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; mission. Over the past month, under the command of General Hersh, I had endured just about every type of sexual stress test imaginable. But given the sexual nature of the role I’d be playing, this particular area of training would prove to be critical. Sexual endurance was essential to success.
 
The objective of this mission was to infiltrate the trafficking syndicate, duplicate data files from their main servers, and then get the hell out. Simple enough, right? I wish I could agree. The fact of the matter is- our statisticians awarded this mission a mere 20% chance of success. Typically, special ops won’t even consider missions with less than 60%.
 
But as you might have imagined, extenuating circumstances played a big role in this particular case. Almost one year ago to the week, technology industries celebrated the invention of &lt;em&gt;AI quantum encryption&lt;/em&gt;. In non-geek speech, this translates to artificial intelligence-based security software that renders devices and databases virtually unhackable.
 
If you’re someone who’s thinking that this sounds like a &lt;em&gt;good&lt;/em&gt; thing, you should probably think again. In eight months from now, the anonymous creator of this software, who goes by &lt;em&gt;Harpocrates&lt;/em&gt;, vowed to make his creation open-source and available to the world. When that happens, every criminal on the planet will have been given the gift of electronic invisibility. As someone in the military who relies on data interception to keep the world safe, this poses obvious complications. But regardless of how you feel about the Patriot Act and FISA, a crime wave was almost certainly on the horizon.
 
The announcement of the software’s creation sent shockwaves through Washington. The joint armed forces suddenly had a hard deadline for making their move against their highest priority criminal organizations. Kicking the proverbial can down the road risked the possibility of watching these cartels and syndicates become virtual ghosts. The clock was now ticking.
 
That’s where I come in. My infiltration into this particular syndicate had begun with my enrollment in a ‘hunger games’ style &lt;em&gt;hunt&lt;/em&gt;. Along with roughly 200 other women from across the world, I would be transported to an undisclosed location in the woods, believed to be somewhere along the continental southeastern coast. Here, we would be naked and restrained in similar fashion to how I currently found myself. Wealthy male hunters armed with infrared rifles would proceed to scour the woods, hoping to capture and claim one of us as their own live-in sex slaves for the following three months.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sat, 12 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom7.html"&gt;chapter seven&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 8: Hazardous Plants and Extracts&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Naked, gagged, hooded, and tied spread-eagle, I tugged ferociously at my bonds. It had probably been 20 minutes since Brandy had left and I was still nowhere closer to freedom. The pillow had slid out from under my head, giving me a clearer view of the restraints that bound me.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After having studied dozens of types of knots the night prior, I could see that Brandy had used a variation of what looked like a “bowline on a bight” knot to restrain each of my limbs to the corners of the bed. This meant that the only knot was bud-up against the bed’s poster. And since this was a king-sized bed, and I was positioned squarely in the middle, that made the knot over a foot out of my reach. I had managed to shift my body a few inches toward my dominant hand, but I was still well out of reach. I shouted in rage as I thrashed about in tantrum. &lt;em&gt;I hated this!&lt;/em&gt; Brandy could return any second!&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sat, 12 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom5.html"&gt;chapter five&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 6: The Old Man&amp;rsquo;s Widow&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Barbeque sauce ran down my chin as I devoured my second beef barbeque sandwich. I sat alone at a table on the patio at &lt;em&gt;Vern’s Brisket and Vine&lt;/em&gt;. The sign hanging over the eatery, however, had been replaced with a new sign that read &lt;em&gt;Sally’s BBQ.&lt;/em&gt; Beneath the lettering was a profile of a hogtied naked woman wearing a ball-gag. Opposite her was the profile of a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why this was considered sexy. It almost gave me a ‘Sweeney Todd’ cannibalism vibe. Nonetheless, it didn’t have any affect on my appetite. Once my second sandwich was gone, I washed it down with the rest of the beer from my frosted mug.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Sat, 12 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/05/12/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom6.html"&gt;chapter six&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 7: Delta November Foxtrot&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was awoken to sound of the loud cheering outside my window. I blinked as bright morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, causing me to squint and bury my head beneath the blankets. My copy of ‘A Comprehensive Guide to Slave Ownership’ rested propped-open on the nightstand and a half-eaten box of Hawaiian pizza sat on top of the covers next to me. It had been a long night of studying and pizza happened to be the brain-food that I required to stay focused. Hey- while my metabolism still worked, I might as well take advantage of eating what I liked.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/04/30/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Mon, 30 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/30/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom4.html"&gt;chapter four&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 5: Pop Quiz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I woke up to the sound of knocking on my bedroom door. Still hallway asleep, I ignored it and buried my face into the covers. More knocks on the door followed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Miss McConnell?” A voice asked.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Disoriented, I groaned, and turned my head toward the voice. I squinted from the sunlight that was pouring through the windows. I was still lying on top of the comforter, exactly where I’d landed the night prior. Standing in the doorway was a woman in a sexy black and white maid outfit. She wore a burgundy choker around her neck.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/04/24/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Tue, 24 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/24/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom3.html"&gt;chapter three&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 4: Storming the Castle&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I awoke to the loud squeal of the subway car as we slowed down. I opened my eyes and squinted through the brightness. I groaned in pain as I straightened up into a seated position. Damn, my muscles were sore!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Eric must have laid his camouflage jacket across me while I slept because it slid to the ground as I sat upright. He was facing the opposite direction, staring out the window. I rubbed my eyes and followed his gaze toward the large, well-lit underground subway station we had entered. The platforms were bustling with male guards and hunters dressed in camouflage. Moments later, the train lurched to a full stop and the door slid open.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/04/24/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Tue, 24 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/24/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom2.html"&gt;chapter two&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 3: Train of Thought&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;We walked in silence for about a mile until we reached a large clearing. By now, the sun had nearly set. One of the gamesmen raised his walkie-talkie and spoke into it, “Gordon to base- be advised, team is approaching checkpoint 9. Prepare for entry” Then, the man placed the walkie back into his hip holster.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Just then, I heard a loud, high-pitched beeping noise up ahead. It almost sounded like the sound a golf-cart makes when put in reverse. Then, I saw it. A large metal cylinder roughly 12 feet in diameter began rising out of the ground in the middle of the clearing. I stopped in my tracks, unsure of what I was looking at. It continued to ascend until it was about 12 feet into the air. Then the beeping stopped. The gamesmen and rest of the group appeared completely unfazed and continued walking towards the structure. Just another stroll in the woods.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/04/12/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Thu, 12 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/12/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom.html"&gt;The Prologue&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1: Enter Jodie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;When I pulled my moped up to the Notts’ Faire entryway, I was surprised to see a brand new security check point with a car barrier. Several uniformed guards sat inside the security hut.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As I approached, a burly guard exited the hut and stepped up to me with a clipboard. Once I came to a stop, he asked, “Can I help you, ma’am?”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/04/12/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Thu, 12 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/12/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Prologue&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The Renaissance Faire has always been a refuge for freaks and weirdos. A safe place for the socially awkward and misunderstood. For the last 3 years, however, Notts’ Renaissance Faire in Georgia has expanded it’s demographic to a new clientele. One with incredibly deep wallets and the need for total and complete anonymity.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;But before we get into that, let me start with a bit of history. My name is Ali Rook. Ali’s short for Alison. Just your average, pretty, slender, freckled, 26 year-old redhead who happens to run a Renaissance Faire. Of course, “average”, by Ren. Faire standards, is antonymous with the conventional definition of the word “average”. Most average 26 year-old girls don’t inherit multi-million dollar corporations from their extended family members.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Kingdom</title><link>/stories/2018/04/12/the-kingdom/</link><pubDate>Thu, 12 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/12/the-kingdom/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="kingdom1.html"&gt;chapter one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 2: The Hunt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I awoke abruptly to the sound of loud foghorn in the distance. Three consecutive blows to be exact. I shivered as I inhaled a deep breath of crisp morning air. I groaned inwardly as I felt my head pounding to the beat of my heart. My hearing was muffled as if my ears had seashells cupped over them. Fuck morning migraines, I thought, wincing in pain. I pressed my eyelids tightly together and turned to roll over. That’s when I first realized I wasn’t in my bed. Beneath me, the ground felt firm and damp. I opened my eyes in confusion, but everything around me was a bright blur.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>