Cheryl was wheeled up the path between the principal residence, the Stoner Mansion, and the outbuildings that lay to its south. Her destination was a single story, whitewashed concrete building that sat about fifty yards from the main building. The box containing the forlorn beauty was brought into the main room of the building, lifted from the floor and set upon a cushioned table in the center of the room.
Jeremiah quickly undid the clasps holding the box shut and its top and sides fell away. There was Cheryl in all of her agonized splendor. She was wide awake now, and trembling in anticipation of some new outrage. But that would come later. Now was to be a peaceful interlude at last.
Jeremiah carefully undid the strap securing Cheryl’s arms. He unleashed her ankles from the box’s padde
