Brotin Tales: Loose Ends; all tied up

Welcome to the twisted mind of Brotin. This time around I got to start the tale and can not wait to see what Otin does with it...

it was never supposed to be this way.

my fingers throb, raw from the effort to free myself, several fingernails torn, leaving red stains, quickly fading toward brown, on the ropes that bind me to the bed. this was supposed to be my honeymoon.

the last several weeks seem like a blur, all the last minute preparations for the wedding, making sure the day was perfect and reflected just who rob and i are, and who we were becoming. seeing him in the tuxedo, standing at the altar, took my breath and left me with dreams come true.

i haven't seen my husband since the taxi ride from the airport. the first day i was here i screamed for him, for them to let me see them until my throat burned from exertion. exhaustion weighs on my chest, even my eyes have run short on tears. not that the two men that check on me care.

the walls are rough cut timber, no windows, just an open doorway with a heavy blanket across opening. the bed is steel framed, to heavy to move. i tried everything i could think of to escape. i keep trying, fearful of what giving up means, hoping that rob is still...

when rob walked through the door, i knew he was the one. not in a superficial way, i think it was the way he carried himself that first attracted me to him my sophomore year at the university. he was with another girl when he came to the party, but he left with me. three years later we would marry.

they have left me clothed for now, the small floral day dress i wore on the plane, it clings to my figure, damp with sweat. periodically the men have given me water or some weak broth, but made no move to harm me other than what it took to secure my arms and legs. i plead with them to release me, but they hardly even notice me.

arriving at the airport, rob secured us one of the many taxis lined along the terminal sidewalk. as we drove through town, he smiled, anxiously pointing out beautiful statues or marvelous architecture. i could barely take my eyes off of him. at a stoplight, men wrestled the doors open, forcing a black bag over my head. that was three days ago, based on the number of times i have been fed.

i hear the men chattering in some language i do not understand, drawing closer. the blanket over the doorway pulls aside as they enter, standing at the foot of the bed, their eyes crawling up my legs to meet my eyes. this is the moment i have dreaded. panic twists in my stomach, forcing my body to thrash against the bonds to escape their gaze.

"where is my husband!", i screech over and over, reality slipping loosely from my grip.

"hey babe!", his voice draws me back, as he steps through the blanket, dressed in a suit, cigar tucked firmly between his fingers, tendrils of smoke slithering toward the ceiling.

the shock addles me, so the first thing that comes to my mind is, rob doesn't smoke. all three men smile at my confusion, sending a shiver running the length of my body.

it was never supposed to be this way.

What happens next? You will have to visit Otin to find out...