Chapter 8

I heard the metallic click of handcuffs being closed around my wrists and then around my ankles. The sharp points over my face were dragged down my cheek as the hand was removed. It was replaced hastily with a filthy gag. I tried to turn away from the gritty, oily piece of cloth being shoved in my mouth and was rewarded with a slap in the face.

"You don't like my sock, do you?" the voice taunted. "I wonder what else you won't like."

"Throw the purse out," a voice from the front rasped.

We drove for what seemed like forever before my captors most have become bored. At first, I just felt hands roughly grasping at my breasts and hips. Their hands became more insistent until I felt cool air on my belly and chest as my clothes were ripped away. They were not very careful with the knives they were using. I cried out as the sharp tips speared into me.

Soon I felt the metal of the van's floor digging into my side and I kne