There was a good deal to think about. As far as Melanie knew, she might have a lot of time in which to think. Melanie's trouble was that she did not want to think at all about the visions and prospects with which her mind was insistently employed. She had already exhausted her first confident hope of escape. She was as tightly bound now as before her first painful struggle. The ropes were still as harsh at wrist and elbow, in fact, they seemed tighter where her twistings had chafed her bare skin. Her neck was tender from the rope tethered to the tree, the tether that compelled her to stand in weary nakedness to await whatever fate held in store for her. She bore the ropes between her legs and around her waist in the bitter knowledge they were for punishment only. They made her no more helpless. They only hurt and made her feel ashamed. In their own graphic language they cried, deridingly: girl, girl, girl!
As a change from thinking shudderingly ahead, Melanie turned her reflections back to the battle, the stripping and tearing of her clothes, the theft of the rope from the back of the station wagon, and the eager female hands that had bound her as she now was. That it had taken three of them to do it was no consolation at all. The gleeful words drifted back in memory:
"Thinks she's hot shit! Hope she gets screwed."
"Fix her good… no getting loose."
"It'll be some boys from the city… out hunting."
"She'll be better to take home than a deer."
She should have sensed their hostility before coming with them for a drive. Melanie condemned herself. She should have known! Yet their decision to leave her thus was probably spontaneous… fortuitous. The campsite, the wagon, the rope! It was as though fate had conspired: prompting the laughing girls to a cruelty that might yet end in farce or tragedy. Some person or persons would return to the station wagon and find her tied for their enjoyment! Unhappily, Melanie computed today's odds for chivalry! Fifty-fifty, if she was lucky.
The first aid kit in the wagon had provided the tape. Melanie was denied nothing in the way of shame. Her cup was full.
"Give the guys a chance to get a good look at her before she starts yapping. If they've got any sense they'll leave her gagged while they take turns screwing her."
"Always did have too much to say for herself."
"Best she don't spend the day screaming."
And then her own voice… the voice to which none of them paid any attention:
"Don't! It's too dangerous! It's beyond a joke."
"No joke, Melanie baby. Teaching you a lesson."
"Don't joke about rape. Any man who finds me like this!… "
"Lucky guy! Let's hope there's more than one."
"But I could end up dead in the bushes."
"Hell no, kid! No guy's going to waste all that you're showing."
"At least don't gag me. Let me breathe!"
"You've been sniffling through that haughty nose of yours a long time, Melanie. You can keep right on doing it."
It had been utterly hopeless. Tomorrow the three girls might feel guilty, but today the whole idea had seemed like fun… to them. To Melanie it was the utmost nightmare of shame. They had hurt her nipples to compel her to open her mouth for the wad of her own torn clothing that now filled her cheeks beneath the adhesive's clutch. They had waved at her mute impotence as they had laughingly driven away. Melanie had watched them disappear down the dirt trail.
"Never seen the like!" said a cracked and ancient voice.
He was an old and weathered man. He put his twelve gauge shotgun and three pheasants in the open wagon. His interest in a bound and naked girl seemed minimal. Melanie made muffled sounds of distress.
"I ain't touchin' you, lady." The elderly voice was quite firm. "Women ain't nothin' but grief. You're there fer' a reason, and it ain't none o' my concern… so you can stop wiggling them tits."
Melanie flew all the distress signals she could contrive. She cursed the gag. If only she could speak!
"Tell ya what, lady. I'm passing through the town. I'll tell the Sheriff."
Melanie did her best, but bound arms and taped lips helped her not at all. For the second time she watched a car depart and a potential rescue vanish. In a fresh dilemma, she leaned against her tree and pondered. The Sheriff was a jealous and suspicious man. He was also her husband, and would never believe a word of her story, true or not. His wife naked! Tied to a tree! And no marks! No way!
Melanie resumed her hapless battle with the ropes and waited.