April 18, 2004
"Reality"
There was no warning.
The van pulled up beside him as he walked through the parking garage toward his car. Long before he could run or fight or even scream, he was dragged inside and pressed face down against the floor. As the door slid closed and the van drove slowly down the spiraling exit, as if nothing at all were unusual, handcuffs were locked around his wrists and shackles at his ankles. A hood went over his head to keep him in darkness. After a few kicks to his sides whenever he would make a sound, no gag was required.
The van drove on and on, stopping only to refuel. Was it 24 hours? 48? His only clock as he lay in darkness was the stiffness of his muscles and the growling of his empty stomach. His captors said nothing to him and if they spoke to each other he could not hear. Eventually they reached their destination. The back doors to the van opened and he was carried out.
Within the hood, his entire universe consisted only. The crush of boots against gravel… The creak of a rusty hinge as a door opened. He grunted as they dropped him to the ground. A door slammed and then there was only the sound of his breathing. He tried to understand where he was. It felt like packed dirt beneath him. A storage shed? He flopped on the ground like a fish in the bottom of a boat, trying to gain a mental image of his surroundings. Square… A little over six feet in any direction… Completely bare. He lay still, exhausted. Soon, he fell into a restless sleep.
He was awakened by the same hands, dragging him roughly to his feet and half-carrying, half shoving him stumbling forward. The shackles allowed him only tiny steps and after one or two he would tumble forward. Sometimes they caught him and propelled him forward again, sometimes he landed on his face and was lifted up again and pushed on. It took only a few moments to reach his destination. He felt as though he was inside now. The sounds were different. Hard wood floors. He was shoved forward and fell yet again. He felt the cold metal of a knife against his skin as, with a few slices his clothing fell away from him in shreds. His captors lifted him up onto his knees and secured his handcuffs to his shackles so he would remain that way. He thought they were removing the hood, but instead he felt a pair of hands slipping under it. A band was placed around his throat and clasped behind. And then it was tightened. When they had finished with him he was alone again, chained on his knees. The collar around his throat was leather, the scent of it filled the hood and it was very tight. So tight that it permitted only rapid, shallow breathes. He believed he would pass out but soon found that if he remained very still, if he made absolutely no effort to speak and if, despite the circumstances, he did everything possible to remain calm, the collar allowed him just enough air to remain conscious.
He remained on his knees. He shivered, partly from the cool air against his bare skin and partly from fear. At first dimly and then with certainty, he became aware of the sound of a single pair of footsteps approaching. They came from behind and then passed close by him. In an instant the hood was pulled from his head. Blinking in the light after days of darkness, he realized that he was on his knees in the center of an exquisitely appointed drawing room. A woman was seated before him, her crossed legs only a foot from his face. She was beautiful and stylish, her white pantsuit and gold jewelry suggesting wealth, power and confidence.
“What’s the matter, boy?” she teased him. “Don’t you recognize your Goddess?”
And then he did recognize her. Not her face, but her voice. He had heard it before on dozens of occasions. At his home, in hotels… In the middle of the afternoon and late at night… Even, on several occasions, in his dreams.
“Divine One?” she managed to gasp from his tightly squeezed throat.
She smiled brilliantly, “Very good! Yes, pet, Prime Divine. Not my name, of course, but it will do for our purposes.”
His mind swam with questions. How? Why? His heart pounding, none of them could escape his lips as merely breathing was such a struggle. His eyes looked up at her, pleading to know.
Divine sighed, “You didn’t really think you were anonymous, did you? So foolish. It was such a simple matter to obtain what I desired. Your full name, your address. Isn’t the Internet amazing? At any rate, once I had decided that you might prove interesting, the rest was child’s play.”
Interesting? He would have taken the word as a compliment during one of their telephone calls. Now, chained before her, it seemed much more ominous.
As always, Divine read his mind. “Don’t flatter yourself, little one. You’re not the first that I’ve arranged to have brought to me for a visit. I’m sure you won’t be the last. Keen is… Well, let’s call it a screening process. You seemed as dull as the rest initially. Once I learned a little more about you, however, I found that you have something that interests me. Something that I can use.”
Divine paused to take a sip of wine from the glass that was on the table at her right hand. His eyes followed her and he saw that the small table also held a microcassette recorder.
“Now, it’s really quite simple, dear. Simple enough even for you. As I’ve always made clear to you, my time is extremely valuable. Much more so than the pittance you’ve paid for it in the past. Today, we’re going to measure time a little differently.”
She leaned forward and reached toward him. It was only then that he realized that a small box hung from a cord which was attached to the front of the collar around his throat. She took it in her hand and pressed the button with her thumb. Instantly, the collar tightened around his throat, closing off his windpipe entirely. His face began to turn a bright red.
“Instead of paying for my time, pet, you’re going to pay for something almost as precious. You’re going to pay for air. You see how simple it is? In exchange for what I want, I will permit you to breathe.”
Taking her time, Divine turned on the cassette recorder and pointed it toward him. When it was ready, she reached down again to take the cord in her hand.
“Now, I have your wallet already, of course. Your credit cards, a copy of your signature from your driver’s license. Why don’t we begin with something simple? Hmm… Your PIN number perhaps?”
With a flick of her thumb the collar loosened ever so slightly, back to where it had been before. He panted, rapid shallow breaths all that the collar permitted him, as his body attempted to make up the oxygen deficit. She looked down at him, waiting.
“Please, Goddess, I…”
He got no further. Her thumb pressed the button again and his throat closed completely. She did not ask the question again. She did not even speak. She took a sip from her wineglass and waited. The seconds ticked by slowly for him as the pressure seemed to build up. Tears streamed down from his eyes.
“I’m not interested in having a conversation with you. You’re going to answer my questions and give me what I want. When I’m done with you I’ll send you home. This isn’t one of your fantasies. Are we clear?”
He nodded vigorously and she pressed the button to open the collar up slightly. He shuddered as a thin gasp of cool air entered his lungs. Taking pity, she allowed him to gasp for nearly a full minute before continuing.
“PIN.”
He did not repeat his mistake. Over the course of the next ten minutes it all came out without her having to deny him breath. .. His PIN, his 401k, he told her everything as the recorder caught all of it. When there was nothing left, she turned the recorder off. With a flick of her thumb his breathing became far easier. Not completely free since she kept the collar quite snug, but he was no longer lightheaded. She ran her fingers through his hair and told him how pleased she was. She even put her wineglass to his lips and allowed him to drink the dregs.
Divine rose from her chair and walked across the room. He remained on his knees, drawing deep breaths of the cool air. She returned after a moment with a cigar which she had lit. Seating herself again and crossing her legs, Divine drew on the cigar and blew a long stream of the thick sweet smoke in his upturned face. He coughed and she laughed gently.
“There’s nothing quite like a good cigar, darling. One of your fetishes if I recall.”
She put the cigar to her lips again. The lit tip flared a bright orange. Divine leaned down and took his chin in her hand. She tipped it up and leaned down to gently touch her lips to his. As they touched, she exhaled, blowing the smoke into his lungs as if she were breathing life into him. As she did so, her hand slipped down to take the small controller which still hung from his collar. With the press of a button his throat was closed again trapping the smoke within his lungs. Divine leaned back and smiled condescendingly.
“I’ve decided to be merciful, my sweet. It would be far too cruel to send you home. You’ve lived your fantasy. After this, going back to your old life would be so… Dull. Don’t you agree? How could you ever go back, particularly when you would be penniless.”
She refilled her winegless and put the cigar to her lips again. She leaned down to blow the smoke gently into his eyes. Tears streamed downward from them. She caressed his cheek.
“Tears of gratitude, pet? It’s been my pleasure, I assure you. Sweet dreams.”
And with that she sat back with a satisfied smile. She enjoyed her wine and her cigar as his body drew what little oxygen was contained in her exhaled smoke. It did not last long.