CHAPTER FOUR: Bound Naked aboard a Rocket ship to the Moon, Fantasizing Helplessly
Cynthia woke confusedly, pain from the tips of her fingers, through every inch of the shapely white arms twisted and crushed behind her back, all the way up through the base of her wrenched neck, as returning blood flow brought pins and needles lancing into every agonized cell. Her vision was cloudy, but when she tried to blink, her lids felt thick and numb, useless. The rushing in her ears was confusing and oppressive somehow. Her heart seemed to stutter and flop, her stomach twist and flutter. Nameless panic welled up, wordless, undeniable, and overwhelming—and suddenly she realized she was falling! Instinctively she shrieked, flailing within the straps that held her fast.
“Shut up, fer Chrissakes,” grit
