Chapter 3: Sandra’s first morning at The Retreat

Sandra woke up with a massive hangover. At least it felt like one. She had a lot of experience with the delayed consequences of consuming **** or other ****. This was different. She was not sick, just dizzy. The problem was more in her head than in her stomach. And, most importantly, usually, hangovers were the price for the fun one had the night before.

Nothing could be more different from “fun” than the last thing she remembered before losing consciousness. She still could feel the mixture of fear, desperation, and anger, when they injected something in her arm. She looked and saw a small band-aid still marking the location where the needle had broken her skin.

Then she saw the bruises, probably from the hands of the men who had gripped her and dragged her up the stairs. She was lying in a normal bed. The room had little furniture. A cupboard, a small table, a chair, and a sink with a mirror above it. She was naked.

She was looking for evidence of her captivity but there were none. She was not tied. There were not even bars in front of the window. She removed the heavy curtains and opened it. The warm air and a multitude of scents hit her. She always had been a nose person. Before she saw or heard she smelled her environment. A feeling she had not known recently flooded through her. She felt well. At least for the time being, she reveled in this atmosphere that had to be tropical or at least southern European.

Reality arrived suddenly and brutally when the door was pushed open.

“Sandra Hamer, I presume?”

The thus addressed turned around, away from the invigorating scents and the lush vegetation that produced most of them. Still naked, she tried to cover her breasts and nether regions with her hands and arms.

“Are you deaf, girl? Are you Sandra Hamer? How dare you show yourself naked at the window?”

“You damned well know who I am, you …”

The heavyset small woman standing in the doorway was not amused at all. She looked like a cross between a nun and a teacher. Not one of the pseudo-modern pedagogues who pathetically tried to adapt themselves to the fashion and language of their pupils. The lady opposite her was the real deal. She wore a heavy skirt of tweet and a strict white blouse. On the head, she had a kind of scarf that gave her a decidedly nunnish appearance. Her feet were firmly rooted in heavy boots.

Everything was green and grey. Only her face was shining in a blueish red.

“Another word and you will be punished you spoiled brat! I will not tolerate any ill behavior.”

Sandra couldn’t help herself. She simply had no concept of authority and reacted in her usual way.

“Are you serious? Is this Halloween? Carnival?”

She was barely able to speak between the laughing fits that shook her.

“Very well! If this is the way you want it.”

The woman stepped out of the room and two men entered. Without so much as looking at her, they took her arms and before she knew it, they threw the naked girl on the bed. She recognized that it was not a normal bed when she saw how the men took leather cuffs attached to chains fixed to each bedpost and quickly put her feet and arms through them. Everything happened so fast that she had no time to react in any way.

Finally, a ball gag was pressed into her mouth. She was helplessly fixed to the bed, not even able to shout or spit at them.

“So, that’s much better. You know, Sandra, I normally prefer the slow approach. Giving my clients time to adjust. In your case though …”

Sandra strained her muscles to no avail. The woman standing beside her bed was frighteningly calm.