26
I awoke with a start, my mouth stuffed with something soft, chalky. Cotton, a wad of stiff fabric. I reared up, screaming behind the gag, but I could rise only a few inches at the pelvis. My wrists and ankles were bound to the bed with thick strips of something rough and taut. Not a perverse s*x game this time – a nightmare. My instinct was to thrash wildly. I couldn’t even do that; the restraints were too tight.
Through the clamor of my fear I became faintly aware of two things: I was in my bedroom, and I was bound. Whatever they had me in – a short-sleeved nightgown, it seemed, that stopped at my knees and left me shivering – was half drenched in sweat. The way my legs were spread to accommodate the restraints made me feel more vulnerable and exposed than I could remember feeling, e
