The battered old blue utility van slowly bounced and lurched its way up the narrow dirt path. It had long before left the main roads behind, then the small country roads and finally paving altogether, following a dirt and gravel road deeper and deeper into the woods. Now the path barely deserved to be called one, a narrow track overgrown with trees pressing close on either side. Twigs and branches scraped and snapped against the dented body of the van.

Finally, the track gave out altogether, ending in a small clearing just large enough for a vehicle to, with difficulty, turn around and head back the way it came. Directly ahead, fixed in the van’s headlights, was a narrow footpath which wound its way onwards, disappearing from sight among the trees less than a dozen yards beyond.

The driver of the van shut it off and slowly got out. He was a tall man, in his late 40’s named Henry Mason. His hair was short and dark, going gray, his face clean-shaven and weathered. Henry was dressed in a heavy coat against the late October chill, jeans, leather boots and gloves. As he walked around to the rear of the compartment, Henry drew a small pistol from the waistband of his jeans. Holding it casually, but at the ready, he unlocked the rear doors with his other hand and opened them.

“Hmmmppphhh!!!” A chorus of muffled sobs and moans spilled forth from inside. Likely, it had been going on for the whole trip here, but outside of the heavily sound-proofed compartment, no one could hear the frantic cries and pleas for help. A trio of girls lay on the floor of the van. Their arms were drawn behind their backs and bound with rope at the wrists and ankles. Their legs were lashed together at the ankles and knees, then bent back and tied off to the ropes already binding their hands, hogtying them. Each girl had a ballgag strapped between her teeth and a padded leather blindfold over her eyes. Finally, each had a wide leather collar buckled around her neck. These had been tied with short cords to a ring bolted to the floor of the van.

Putting away the gun now he could see his captives were exactly as he had left them: completely helpless, Henry reached in and grabbed the first girl on the left side of the van. She was a tall, dark skinned girl in her early twenties with short, curly brown hair. Her name, Henry knew, was Molly Wilkins. She had on a light blue tank-top and jean shorts.

Henry untied the cord from the ring and pulled her to the edge of the door. Molly squirmed and bucked as he took a knife from his belt and cut the hogtie rope, followed by those around her ankles. The rest were left as they were, much to her dismay. Henry lifted his captive up and set her on the dirt road beside him. With a stern growl for her to stay put, Henry turned back to the van. Moly turned this way and that, whimpering through the large ballgag jammed between her teeth. Part of her wanted to run, but the more rational side knew, blindfolded like this, she would only trip or run into something. Besides, with her knees still bound, she wouldn’t get very far before her captor noticed and chased her down.

Meanwhile, Henry got to work with the second girl in the van. She was a short slender brunette named Allison Michaels. Her light brown hair was cut short. She was wearing a light-colored t-shirt with a band logo on the front and running shorts. When she stood beside Molly, both girls shivering in the early morning chill, Henry took a short length of rope and tied either end to the two girl’s collars, tethering them together.

The third and final girl was a curvy Asian named Helen Park. Her straight black hair was tied back in a long ponytail. She had on a white blouse and a knee-length brown skirt. Henry tied her collar off to Molly’s leaving a couple feet of rope dangling as a lead.

“This way, ladies.” He said, giving the rope a sharp tug. Helen grunted into her gag as she was jerked forward, stumbling to keep from falling over. This in turn dragged Molly and Allison along after. Henry guided them around the van to the trailhead and followed it, plunging into the deep woods.

It was slow going. With their knees tied, the girls were limited to an awkward hobbling gait. With their blindfolds on, they were completely reliant on the tug of the ropes at their necks for guidance and the rough trail wasn’t the best footing underneath. Anytime one of the girls got too far ahead or behind, the ropes linking them together would snap taut, threatening to pull one or all of them to the ground.

As they shuffled up the winding trail, the girls sobbed through their gags in fear and misery. Earlier that night, they had been enjoying a quiet evening at home, watching a movie when Henry had burst in, gun drawn. He’d ordered the three of them to lie down on the floor and place their hands behind their backs. At first they assumed he would merely tie them up, rob the house and leave, but once he had all three bound, gagged and blindfolded, he had picked up Molly and carried her from the room. Helen and Allison had struggled for all they were worth, but soon all three were collared and hogtied in the back of his van. Now, hours later, they were in the middle of nowhere, being led to god-knows-where.

Henry, on the other hand, knew exactly where he was taking them. He had a cabin, deep in the woods where he would keep the girls for months, maybe a year or more until it was time to sell them on and begin again with fresh captives. But first, there was a little ritual to perform, something he did with all the girls he brought up this trail, a little welcome to their new lives.

At the slow pace the group was taking it was just starting to break dawn when they reached the cabin. But instead of heading straight for it, Henry led the girls around one side. Just past the cabin was a cleared space with a large metal fire pit at the center. Henry brought them to a halt beside it, where he had earlier driven three metal stakes into the ground. The ropes tethering the girls together were undone and, one at a time, Henry forced them to kneel beside one of the stakes. The free rope was tied off to the stake, forcing the poor captives to bend overnear double.

Leaving them to squirm and shiver in the cold, Henry went to the wood pile behind the cabin and gathered an armload. Returning to the pit, he slowly built up a fire, setting some old newspaper among the sticks for kindling and lighting it with a box of matches from his pocket. For the next quarter of an hour, he slowly fed larger sticks and logs to the flames, until he had a sizable blaze going.

Henry then turned and went to Molly. She squirmed and struggled as she was untied from the stake, pulled to her feet and led over to the fire. Though she couldn’t see, she could hear the crackling of the flame and feel its heat on her body. Henry drew his pistol and pressed it against her side, drawing a yelp of fright from the helpless girl.

“This is just a warning…” He told her sternly. “In just a second, I’m going to untie you. You aren’t going to scream or run or do anything except what you’re told, understand?” Frantically she nodded as he thrust the barrel hard against her.

With his free hand, keeping the gun against her, Henry slowly undid the ropes binding Molly, starting with her elbows, then her knees and her wrists last of all. He pulled off her blindfold, warning her to leave the gag in place.

“Now…” Henry continues. “Take your top off!” The young woman stared at him, dark cheeks flushing at the thought, but the gun left her little choice. With a quiet whimper, Molly grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it up over her head. Underneath, she wore a gray sports bra.

“Throw it into the fire.” Again, Molly hesitated, but at a growl from her captor, she flinched and tossed the garment into the fire pit. The flames roared up, quickly catching it ablaze. The two orders were repeated with her shorts and then her underwear. Soon, every stitch of clothing she had on her had been fed into the fire. By the time her panties and bra were consumed in the flames, her face was a bright red, her eyes wet with tears as she tried desperately to cover her naked breasts and crotch with her hands.

“Turn around and cross your wrists.” Henry ordered. Molly was soon retied the same as before. It took some time, but her captor didn’t hurry, taking his time to make sure every loop was pulled taut against her bare skin, every knot tight and out of reach. He wanted her to know he was in complete control, that he wasn’t going to get sloppy or give her a chance at escape. When, finally, the blindfold was strapped over her eyes once more, Henry led her back over to the other two, forcing her to kneel and be lashed to the stake once again.

As Molly shivered, naked in the cold, Allison was released from her stake and stood up. Though she hadn’t seen what had happened, she had heard their captor’s orders and knew it was pointless to resist. Glumly, she stripped naked and threw her clothes, one article at a time, into the fire, to her increasing embarrassment and discomfort. She was then immediately tied up again and returned to her kneeling position. Then it was Helen’s turn.

Soon, all three of the captives knelt on the ground, naked and shivering. Henry left them in that awkward position another minute or two, taking the time to grab more logs for the fire and stirring the blackened remains of the girls’ clothing. He wanted to make sure by the time the fire burnt down, no trace would remain. Any remaining link to their old lives had just gone up in smoke.

Finally, the ritual completed, he turned back to his captives and, one at a time, got them to their feet once more. As they were not going far, he didn’t bother tying them together, but simply grabbed the rope leads and used them to drag the girls after him into the cabin. They whimpered with some relief as they passed inside, out of the cold.

In the cabin’s kitchen, Henry led them to the large walk-in pantry, stocked with food, cans and sacks of dry goods for months to come. At the back, one of the shelves, seemingly identical to the rest, was rigged to swing back on hidden rails at the press of a hidden switch. Behind it was a hidden staircase, leading down into what had once been the root cellar for the farmhouse that had stood here once upon a time. When he’d built his cabin here, he’d modified the hidden, underground space, for his own purposes.

At the bottom, Henry spread out the girls. Chains were clipped to the fronts of their collars, linking them to the wall of the dungeon, a couple feet apart from each other. He let their apprehension build a minute longer before going down the line, removing his captives’ blindfolds. He grinned, watching their eyes widen with horror, anguished moans escaping their gags as they beheld the dungeon for the first time.

“Welcome to your new home, ladies…” Henry said with a laugh. “Let’s begin!”