Catherine sat at her kitchen table in the dark, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall behind her. She glanced back over her shoulder at the hands of the clock. 11:23, not much time left now. On the table in front of her was an empty glass. She’d taken a glass of wine, to try and steady her nerves. It hadn’t worked. Her hands were trembling as she regarded the other items on the table.

The first was a manila folder, plain, unmarked, just as it had looked when she’d found it in her mailbox that morning. Inside were two sets of photographs. The first contained  pictures of her, standing out in front of her house, out having drinks with the girls two nights ago, even one of her in the shower!
A chill ran through her spine as she wondered how that photograph had been taken, how long they’d been watching her...

With the photographs came a note, typed in nondescript font on a plain white sheet of paper. It read “We know what you’ve been doing. Go to the bank on Third Street and empty the safety deposit box there. Bring everything in it back to your house and place it with your materials here. Do not contact the police or tell anyone about this. We are watching.”

Catherine closed her eyes, giving something halfway between a sigh and a moan. For the millionth time since that morning, she wished she’d never started working on this story. But how could she have known, all those months ago, that looking into a couple missing person cold cases that seemed odd would have led her to discovering a global criminal organization, abducting young women and girls and selling them all over the world as slaves? Unfortunately, by the time she’d realized she’d gotten in too deep, it was too late. The Organization knew about her and they were looking to silence her...forever.

Raising her head again, she looked to the second object on the table. It was a cardboard box. It had been sitting on her front doorstep when she’d gotten back from the bank with a shoe box holding the portable drives and physical hard copies of all the research she’d done into the Organization’s existence and operations. Inside were several items and another set of instructions.

“Do not leave your house...” They read. “...Leave the front door unlocked and all of your research gathered...at midnight, remove any and all articles of clothing and jewelry, put on everything in the box and wait, kneeling in front of the door.”

The box had been emptied out onto the table. In the dim light, the bright metal of the steel collar and shackles glinted beside the darker shadows of the blindfold and ballgag. Catherine knew what they meant: the Organization planed to take her as one of their slaves.

From her research, she knew what happened to those young women and girls unfortunate enough to fall into the cruel clutches of these people. How they were transported, in restraints such as these, to one of the Organization’s many hidden facilities where they were brutally tortured, had their wills broken, making them into obedient slaves who would then be auctioned off to the rich, powerful and cruel. That was what was going to happen to her now. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice.

Her eyes drifted back to the manila envelop and the second set of pictures they had contained. They were of Catherine’s sister, Meredith and her two daughters, Katie and Bethany. Like the ones of Catherine, they appeared to have been taken secretly and in shockingly intimate settings. The slavers didn’t need to spell things out to her. The threat was perfectly obvious. Cooperate, submit yourself willingly to enslavement, or resist and most likely be taken anyway, and in so doing damn your innocent sister and nieces to the same horrible fate.

Catherine couldn’t do it. The thought of Meredith, or sweet Bethany or Katie helpless in the clutches of these monsters, of losing their futures and spending the rest of their lives in chains was more then she could bear. “I have no choice.” She said, her voice quiet, but loud in the still darkness. “For them...”

Reluctantly, she stood up from her chair, scooting it back. Reaching up with trembling hands, she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. She unzipped her skirt, letting it drop to the floor around her feet. She unclasped her bra, letting it fall away, then hooked her thumbs under the bands of her panties and pulled them down her legs. She straightened up, now completely naked.

It felt strange, even alone by herself, to be standing naked in her own kitchen. Of course, she didn’t know if, at that moment, the agents of the Organization were watching her, making sure she followed their cruel instructions, ready to give the word to take her sister and nieces if they thought she intended any resistance to their evil plans for her.

For whatever reason, Catherine paused a minute, bending down to collect her discarded clothes. Maybe it was some bit of stubborn pride, refusing to leave her house a mess, even though she was certain never to return here again. Maybe she just wanted an excuse to delay the inevitable a little longer. To enjoy just a few more minutes of freedom, the last she’d ever know.

Then, finally, she could put it off no longer. She grabbed the collar first, finding the two pieces of it swung smoothly on a single hinge. She placed one end against her neck and brought the other around where it met the other side, a protruding bit slipping neatly into a slot on the other. There was a ‘click’ and the collar locked on. Needless to say, no keys had been included with the restraints. Catherine wouldn’t be allowed even the possibility of backing out of her impending slavery.

She paused another moment, feeling the uncomfortable weight of the collar around her neck, pressing her shoulders down. The metal was smooth and not tight, but was very cold against her skin. She wondered if she’d ever get used to its constant pressure at her neck, reminding her of her new status in life as a slave.

Next, she grabbed the set of slightly larger shackles. A note had identified them as being intended for her feet. Bending over, she slipped the first cuff around one ankle, then the other around the second, ratcheting them tighter until they were likewise snug against her skin.

She started to reach for the second set of shackles, but stopped before putting them on. Another note on them instructed her to lock her hands behind her back. Once she’d done that, she’d have no way to put on the gag or blindfold. Catherine dared not disobey even the slightest order they gave her. For one, she knew her only hope to avoid some pain and anguish was to demonstrate to her captors she was ready to obey, fully and completely. For another, she was deathly afraid any failure on her part to submit to their whims would be all the excuse they needed to take her sister and nieces as well.        
 
So instead, she grabbed the ballgag next. She held it up, eyeing with dismay the size of the rubber plug between the two leather straps. Though relatively sheltered, she’d seen enough things on the internet to know it was meant to go between her teeth, with the straps holding it in. But how could they expect her to fit such a gargantuan thing between her jaws? But again, she had no choice.

The young woman took a moment, trying to work her jaw as loose as she could. Then, she opened her mouth, as wide as she could manage and lifted the gag to her lips. Despite this, the ball still seemed to big. She pressed harder, trying to force it to conform or her jaw to spread wider. For a second, it didn’t seem like it would work, then all of a sudden the ball popped past her teeth and was in.

Catherine gave a loud groan, muffled and distorted by the plug filling her mouth. Her jaw ached from the strain of the huge gag. The sides of her mouth hurt where the straps were pulled against them. She wanted nothing more than to try, somehow, to spit this thing out before her jaw broke entirely. But she knew she couldn’t. She gave another long moan of horror. As bad as the discomfort was now, how could she stand to wear this awful gag for hours, days without respite? Unfortunately, she knew how: because she had no choice. Fighting back tears, she grabbed the straps, pulling them back behind her head and fumbling to get the tongue through the buckle. She pulled the straps snug and buckled them securely.

From there, things proceeded smoothly. She grabbed the second set of shackles, locking one cuff around her right wrist, leaving the left to dangle for the moment while she grabbed the blindfold. Before putting it on, she shuffled, awkwardly, through the house to the front door. A glance at the clock told her it was now 11:48. Twelve minutes before they came to take her. Twelve minutes before her old life ended and her new life as a slave began.

At the front door, everything was ready. The door was unlocked, her research piled up neatly on a small table. All that was missing was her, kneeling down, ready to greet her new masters. She got into place and sank to her knees, glad for the Persian rug underneath her. She took the blindfold and slipped it over her eyes, fighting back panic as everything went dark. She pulled her arms behind her back, fumbling around a bit to find the empty shackle and to get it around her left wrist. With a loud ‘click’ it caught and locked and it was done.

“Mmmppphhh!!!” Catherine shook her head, moaning into her gag as the panic that had been building inside her finally bubbled over. She knew, intellectually, that her fate had been sealed since that morning, when she’d found the envelop with the slavers’ threat. Everything after it had inevitably been leading to this moment, but it wasn’t until the final cuff clicked shut, rendering her completely bound and helpless that it finally sank in. Her freedom was gone. All that she could do now was wait for the slavers to come to take her away...and pray they’d be merciful. If not on her, then on her sister and nieces.

The minutes slowly ticked away, marked by the clicking of the large front hall grandfather clock. Slowly, Catherine pushed down her panic, steeling herself for what was to come. To accept her fate and try to be brave when they came for her. She straightened up, trying to present the image of a ready, if not willing, slave when they arrived for her.

More time passed. She’d lost track of time during her brief panic. Had the last ten minutes gone by already? Her jaw ached from the strain of the gag. Even with the carpet underneath her, her knees started to hurt as well. Still more time passed, and she remained, kneeling alone in the dark.

She’d begun to wonder if anyone was coming at all. Maybe, by some miracle, they’d been stopped? Or maybe they’d changed their minds? Or maybe this had all been some kind of elaborate prank? In her desperation, any possibility, no matter how remote, that offered some hope of escaping her fate, seemed possible to the young woman.

Without warning, the door knob began to turn. Catherine started at the sudden sound, a yelp escaping her gag. It was followed by a long, low moan as she realized what it meant. The slavers were here. Her fate was sealed.

In front of her, somewhere in the darkness of the blindfold, she heard the door open and several people came into the house. A man gave a whistle. “Wow...” He said, his voice showing some surprise. “She actually followed instructions! I owe you ten bucks, Dave.”

“Told you she was a smart one, Stan.” Another man, presumably Dave, said, stepping to Catherine’s right. “Check her over while I look at these.” She heard a riffling, as he went through the paper files. Meanwhile, the other man, Stan, leaned over Catherine. She trembled as she felt, rather then saw, his leering eyes looking over her naked figure.

She yelped as his hands suddenly made contact with her body. The helpless captive was subject to a brisk, but thorough and ruthless pat down. No part of her body was spared; her breasts were cupped and fondled, fingers probed into her sex and anus. She could only squeal indignantly through her gag...and was completely ignored.

“She’s clean. No bugs, no trackers, nothing.” Stan pronounced. “Shackles are a little loose...” Catherine yelped as she cuffs around her wrists and ankles were tightened, until the hard metal dug into her skin painfully.

“Papers all here as well.” Dave replied. “Only thing left is to move everything out.” As soon as he said this, Stan grabbed Catherine around her middle with both hands, lifting the young woman up. As she wailed into her gag, she was tossed, unceremoniously over one broad shoulder. She felt him turn, bouncing slight as he walked off. The cold night air assailed her naked body as she was carried down her front drive. At the other end, she was set down, rather roughly, on some sort of rough, scratchy pallet. Something was clipped to the front of her collar. As she squirmed, it rattled. It was a chain, fixed at the other end to the floor of the van a few inches away.

“Get comfortable, slave.” Stan taunted her. “There’s a long drive ahead and you’ll want to have as much strength as you can when we get there and you start your training.” She wailed into her gag as the door was slammed shut, trapping her inside.

Outside, Stan headed back to the house to help Dave with loading the rest of the paper files into a large traveling case. Back at the base, the papers would be examined, to find out how one nosy reporter had managed to get so far in uncovering their operations before being found and dealt with. No doubt several heads would roll in the coming weeks and months, perhaps figuratively, if those responsible had merely been careless or stupid or maybe literally, if the higher ups decided some traitor had been helping little Miss Reporter. Speaking of which…

As Dave zipped the bag shut, Stan pulled out a phone and punched a number into it. It rang twice before being picked up. “Yeah, it’s Stan. We’re at the reporter’s house. She was compliant, got everything together and was waiting for us, kneeling down, naked and shackled like a perfect little slave. We’ve got her in the van now, about to take her to the training center. How’s sis and the girls?”

“Quiet over here. Got my team in position around the house.” The man on the other end replied. “Confirmed all three are here, no one else home. Lights were on a little while ago but everything’s dark now. Probably gone to sleep now. So, you said she was compliant? Should we pull out?”

Stan thought for a moment. He shrugged. “Nah. If you’re all ready, move in and grab ‘em. No sense letting three more choice pieces of merchandise go just because our reporter girl did the smart thing.” Beside him, Dave grinned, shouldering the case. They chuckled as they headed back to the van. Inside, Catherine had given up struggling against the chain and had slumped down, trying to settle down as best she could. From time to time, soft sobs would escape her gag.

Ignoring her, the slavers started the van and drove off into the night...