You let him lead you into the alley.

It would just be so wrong to turn down the help that this man was asking for, so you let him lead you on. It is dark in this alley, as the liquor store and surrounding buildings block any sunlight. You slowly walk deeper into the dark quiet alley and scan the dirty grounds for this man's ring.

"What kind of ring is it?" You ask, hoping that any details would help in your search (though knowing that this isn't entirely true).

"It's a gold diamond ring, quite charming for a young lady indeed."

"Wait," you stop dead in your tracks, "I thought this was your ring."

"Well, it is my ring; I bought it! It's just made for a lady--my wife!" You feel his hand again, pressing at your back, urging you on. "It is a little more this way, girl, should be close..."

Now, warning bells are ringing. You want to turn back. Something just doesn't seem right at all.

And just when you start to think that this man is a liar, and only likes to get girls into dark corners, you suddenly see it-- The ring! Shining all alone on the dark gravel. He wasn't lying afterall!

"The ring!" You shout joyfully, as you take a few quick steps toward it and bend down to pick it up. But, just as you get a hold of it, you feel the man's hands grasping at your thighs forcing you forward. Imbalanced, you fall forward and land hard on your knees and elbows; your ass sticks up as your in an awkward and scrunched position. The ring flies forward in front of you. You feel weight against your rump as you moan in pain.

"Owww, mister, what happened? Why'd you do that? What's going on?" You cry in nieve confusion.

He places a hand at your waist, and you feel his other hand stroking gently across your back. Nothing registers to you, however, but your concern for the ring.

"I'm sorry I dropped the ring," You declare.

"It's okay," he says, "pick it up."

You pick up the ring and then turn your head to see what's going on behind you. You suddenly realize how close this man is to you! You yelp in panic and start to raise yourself up; but, the hand at your back adds pressure.

"Shhhh...it's okay, darling" he says. "Freddy is gonna treat you right."

"Please, you won't hurt me?" You whimper, mistakenly turning what was meant to be a statement into a question.

He answers only by sliding the hand at your waist to beneath your skirt and along the bare skin of your thigh.

"Please..."

"Freddy's gonna treat little lovely right, okay?"

"No..."

"Slip that ring on for Freddie, darling," he tells you, "I bought it for you, to make you happy. Then, you will make me happy."

"Freddie, I--"

"Just put the ring on."