Cynthia peered through the windshield. Rain fell down onto the glass pane in buckets. The car's wipers swung back and forth, slinging water around without doing much good. Just visible through the water streaming down, the weak, yellow beams of the car's headlights cut through the gloom, lighting up the torrents of rain as they pattered down on the road.

At least, Cynthia hoped she was still on the road. She couldn't see far enough ahead of her car to tell. Night had fallen and save for the weak yellow glow of the cars lights, everything was pitch black, save for brief flashes of light, as lightning arced across the sky.

When they did, the flash lit up the trees which crowded on either side of the road. Cynthia was sure the trees and underbrush had been getting thicker as the road narrowed. Occasionally, twigs would snap against the side mirrors, each time the car drifted to close to one side or the other.    

Cynthia cursed silently under her breath. What had possessed her to drive for eight hours across the state for a job interview? The young woman was sure she was lost. She'd left the highway behind hours ago, it seemed, just one narrow country road after another. In this weather, she had no idea how she'd be able to see any turns, let alone tell whether it was the right one or not.

The car bucked wildly, as Cynthia hit another pothole, unseen in the gloom. These roads were doing hell on her suspensions. The young woman wondered if her car would still even be in drivable condition when this was all over. At least she hadn't hit anything ye-WHUMPH!!!

Cynthia felt her teeth click together sharply as the whole car shook as it ran over something lying on the road. It was only luck she hadn't bit her tongue. Hurriedly, she slammed on the brakes. From the way the car listed ungainly, at least one wheel was going flat.

"No…no no no!" Cynthia babbled nervously, hitting one hand against the wheel. This couldn't be happening. As if to taunt the young woman, the engine sputtered for a second, then died. Cynthia groaned softly to herself as the headlights flickered and died, leaving her in the dark. What was she going to do now?

All of a sudden, there was a huge gust of wind. The trees on either side of Cynthia shook violently in the wind. Through the swaying branches, Cynthia's eyes caught a flash of warm, yellow light. A second later, she realized she had broken down in front of a house. Through the pouring rain, she could make out a porch and the front door.

The young woman giggled to herself, as her earlier panic fell away. "Finally! A bit of good luck!" She muttered to herself. The lights were on, which meant someone was home. She could call a tow truck, maybe wait out the storm in a warm house!

Grabbing her purse, Cynthia braced herself and opened the door. Water splashed down onto the young woman as she slammed the door shut. Within moments, she was soaked to the bone. She'd barely taken two steps before she slipped and nearly fell in the mud. Half blinded by the rain pouring over her, Cynthia stumbled through underbrush towards the beckoning warm glow of the house in front of her.

She ran up the steps to the front door, thankful for the porch awning, which kept the rain off. Even so, she shivered. In the time it had taken for her to dash from the road to the house, the rain had soaked every inch of clothing on her. The rain was like ice water, and the howling wind that whipped around Cynthia quickly chilled the quivering woman to the bone.

Hurriedly, she rang the doorbell a few times, hoping someone inside would hurry up and open the door. It was only after she'd done so, did Cynthia think to wonder who lived here. It would be just her luck, to have broken down in front of some creepy old man's house.

To her relief, the door was answered by a middle aged woman. She was about a foot shorter then Cynthia, dressed warmly in a brightly colored sweater and a long brown skirt. "Hello?" she said, peering at the sopping wet young woman standing before her through the thick glasses perched on her nose. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" the woman asked, surprised.

"Please, Ma'am…" Cynthia stammered, brushing wet brown hair out of her eyes. "My car broke down and I saw your house through the rain."

"Oh! Of course my dear. Come in. Oh, you must be soaked to the bone, poor thing." The older woman said, stepping back. "Please come in." Stammering thanks, Cynthia hurried into the warm house. "Why don't you get yourself out of those wet clothes and sit yourself down beside the fire? I'll call a tow truck and put the kettle on…"

A few minutes later, Cynthia found herself seated beside a roaring fire, wrapped nice and cozy in a warm blanket wrapped around her body. Beneath it, she was clad only in her, still slightly damp, underwear. Cynthia's hostess had apologized, but none of her clothes would fit the young woman. Her soaking wet clothes hung near the fireplace, drying.

The woman had introduced herself as Mrs. Roberts. Cynthia's given her name and told the woman how she was driving across the state for a job interview and had gotten lost. In return, Mrs. Roberts had told Cynthia a little about herself. She was a widow. Her husband had died nearly ten years ago, shortly into their marriage. Since then, she'd lived here alone, save for the occasional passerby like Cynthia.

After Cynthia had warmed up a bit, the older woman had run to the kitchen, to call a tow truck about Cynthia's car and to prepare the two of them some tea. Cynthia looked up as she entered, a gently steaming mug in either hand.

"Here you go, my dear…" The older woman said, handing her guest one of the mugs. "This will warm you up nicely." Cynthia thanked her hostess, cupping the china in her hands, letting the warm ceramic warm her fingers. She blew gently over it, to cool the hot drink.

After a moment, Cynthia took an inquisitive sip of the amber liquid. Mrs. Roberts had brewed the tea strong and very sweet with a lot of sugar. The younger woman could feel the warm liquid flow down her throat, warming her belly. She took another, longer sip, then another. "This is very good, Mrs. Roberts." Cynthia said. She didn't normally drink tea, but she might change her mind.

"Thank you, my dear." The older woman said, sipping at her own glass. "It's a special recipe, I make it myself." Outside, lightning suddenly lit up the living room windows. A moment later, a loud crash of thunder shook the house.

"oohhh…" Cynthia murmured to herself. She put a hand of her forehead. What it just her? The room had suddenly become very warm, the air stuffy and claustrophobic. She shrugged her shoulders, letting the blanket fall off of her. It was now very warm; sweat broke out over the young woman's bare skin.

Involuntarily, Cynthia yawned, loudly. She set her mug beside her on the hearth. "mm srry…" she slurred, her eyes were suddenly very heavy. "Dnt kno wass cmm 'ver me all of…sddn… mm jsst soo sleepy…" She yawned again.

"Oh, don't worry my dear," Mrs. Roberts said, smiling cheerfully. "It's quite alright. That's just the drug I put in your drink!" This last part, she stated matter of fact, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to put a drug in a guests drink.

Cynthia's eyes widened for a moment in surprise, as she took in her hostess' words. She struggled for a moment against the lethargy that pulled down on her. She struggled to stand up, but her limbs refused to move. They felt as if they were made of lead. Her eyelids fluttered, and then slowly shut.

Mrs. Roberts smiled to herself as she watched her guest slump over onto the floor, snoring softly. When she was sure Cynthia was sound asleep in drug induced slumber, she got up from her chair and stepped over the sleeping girl to where a small sewing basket stood underneath and end table.

Removing a half-finished needlepoint from the basket, Mrs. Roberts reached into it and pulled out a couple short coils of rope, and a roll of tape. Setting these aside, for the moment, Mrs. Roberts pulled away the blanket and rolled the softly snoring Cynthia over onto her belly.

The older woman grabbed the sleeping woman's panties and pulled them down the unresisting girl's legs. Reaching up, she removed the younger woman's bra as well, leaving her completely naked. Mrs. Roberts balled these up and stuffed the slightly damp underwear in the girl's mouth.

Picking up the roll of tape, the older woman tore off a short strip. Pinching her captive's lips together, she stuck the tape over Cynthia's mouth, sealing it shut. A few more strips went over that, ensuring that the captive girl would keep quiet. When she woke up, that is…  

Setting the tape back down, Mrs. Roberts grabbed the first coil of rope. Reaching underneath the naked girl's armpits, she rolled the limp girl back onto her chest and grabbed her arms. The older woman crossed her captive's wrists behind her back and quickly bound them together with the rope.

A second coil of rope was used to bind Cynthia's ankles together, a third just below her knees. Mrs. Roberts pulled a longer coil of rope from the basket and began winding it around the young woman's chest, running above and below her small, round breasts. She knotted it tightly, pinning Cynthia's arms to her side.

With the young woman secured, Mrs. Roberts stood up and walked back to her comfortable chair by the fire. She picked up the unfinished needlepoint and began plying the needle through the think cotton cloth, as she waited.

An hour or so passed by. The storm outside raged on, but with less intensity now. The fire in the hearth burned low. Mrs. Roberts picked up the poker and stirred the ashes, letting it die out. She picked up Cynthia's discarded blanket and wrapped it around herself. Finally, the captive girl lying at her feet began to stir, as the drugged tea slowly wore off.

Cynthia groaned softly into her gag as consciousness returned. Her moans grew louder and quicker as she realized she was now stringently tied up, and completely naked. Mrs. Roberts looked down at the younger woman as she struggled into a sitting position, her bound ankles folded beneath her. She looked up at Mrs. Roberts, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

Mrs. Roberts grinned, enjoying the look of fright on her prisoners face. This was the part she always loved best, when her captives first woke up and realized something had gone horribly wrong. "Oh! I see you're up, my dear." she said cheerfully. "I bet you're wondering what you're doing tied up like this, aren't you?"

Cynthia nodded, grunting into her gag.

"Well…" Mrs. Roberts said, setting aside her needlework. "You see, I'm what you might call…self-employed. I lure young, attractive women, like you, here, and I take them captive. I train them and sell them as bondage slaves to customers all over the world. It's a pretty lucrative business, I should tell you…"

Cynthia stared up at her hostess, now her captive, to shocked to say anything. This couldn't be happening! "Of course…" Mrs. Roberts continued, "One of the problems of kidnapping local girls, people go looking for them. I'm pretty good at making sure they don't come looking here, of course, but it's still a bother."

She got up and began putting away the unused rope and tape, putting the sewing basket back in its place. "That's why I'm always so happy when a pretty young thing like you comes passing through town. No one will come looking for her, if she should happen to disappear. I don't think anyone will come looking for you either. Am I right?"

She studied Cynthia with an appraising eye. One bony hand reached down and felt up the struggling woman, pinching her bare breasts, thighs and butt. "You'll fetch… at least $25,000 dollars, I think. After I've had a chance to train you a bit, that is."

Cynthia moaned in terror. This couldn't be happening! It was insane! She squirmed against the ropes holding her captive, trying to get free. Leaving her to struggle, Mrs. Roberts picked up the mugs of tea and walked over to the kitchen. There was no chance of the younger woman free herself anytime soon. Mrs. Roberts had a lot of experience keeping her "guests" tied up.

Cynthia was no closer to getting free when the older woman returned. All she'd managed to do was drench herself in sweat and rub her wrists and ankles raw against the rope. She squirmed, twisted around to look as Mrs. Roberts knelt next to her.

A frightened cry escaped her gagged lips. While in the kitchen, her captor had stopped to grab one of her larger carving knives. She grinned cruelly, showing the six inches of sharp, cold steel to the captive girl. "Are you going to be good, my dear? I'd hate to have to use this on you and ruin your market value." Eyes wide with fear, Cynthia hurriedly nodded, not wanting to give this crazy woman an excuse to hurt her.

Setting the knife on the nearby end table, Mrs. Roberts grabbed her captive beneath her tightly bound arms and roughly hauled Cynthia to her feet. The older woman was stronger than her slight appearance would have suggested. She held Cynthia upright, until the captive woman managed to find her balance, standing upright on tightly bound feet.

Grabbing the knife again, Mrs. Roberts gave Cynthia a hard slap across her butt. "Come on then, my dear. Start hopping!" having no other choice, Cynthia began hopping forward, following her captors instructions. The two women, captor and captive, left the living room and passed through the kitchen.

On the other side, Mrs. Roberts opened a door to reveal a staircase descending down into the basement. She held Cynthia steady as the tightly bound woman carefully hopped down, one stair at a time. Soon, the two were completely shrouded in darkness.

Cynthia heard her captor groping around in the dark, finding the light switch after a moments search. The harsh light of a naked bulb light up the small space. The room held a small cot in one corner. A thin, ratty blanket lay piled up at one end. Near the cot was an old metal bucket, Cynthia quickly realizing its purpose.

A long metal chain lay coiled up on the bare concrete floor of the basement. One end was secured to a large metal bolt in the center of the floor. The other was connected to a thick metal collar, like something Cynthia might expect to find in a medieval dungeon. Mrs. Roberts picked this up and carried it over to Cynthia, its chain clinking loudly in the small room.

The young woman was unable to resist as her captor slipped the metal collar around her neck, adjusting it until the metal ring fitted snugly around Cynthia's throat. Her captor closed it with a loud clang and fitted a modern padlock through a ring and shut it, locking the collar on.

Now, Mrs. Roberts began to untie her prisoner, carefully coiling up the rope to use again later. Cynthia rubbed her wrists, trying to get the circulation flowing again. Her limbs had fallen asleep after being tied up so long.

"Now, I'm going to remove your gag, my dear. Feel free to scream yourself horse, trying to call for help. The basement is completely sound proofed." Cynthia was silent as her kidnapper removed the tape over her lips and pulled out the sodden underwear stuffed inside. She glared at the older woman, who merely smiled, picking up the rope.

She walked over to the stairs, pausing at the bottom to turn off the light switch. Everything went dark, save for the light coming in from the top to the stairs. Cynthia heard her captor climbing the stairs. From the top, silhouetted against the door, Mrs. Roberts called down. "Good night, Cynthia. Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we'll begin your training!" With that, she closed the door, leaving the young woman in total darkness…