Tricked

In between the seemingly endless poking and prodding, Greta and Wolf were able to join Callie in the small room. They came in armed with cans of soda, candy bars and bags of chips from the hospital’s vending machine. Though Callie had thought she was too on edge to eat, the junk food tasted wonderful, and she ate and drank it all, every last crumb and drop.

“You will come back to the hotel with us. We have plenty of room in our suite. You’ll need a proper meal in the morning,” Greta informed her. Grateful, Callie could only thank them again.

As they waited for Callie to be discharged, she told the couple how she had met Damon, and some of what she’d endured at his cruel hands.

“You do understand,” Wolf eventually said, “that what happened with Damon has nothing—zero—to do with BDSM. As you know, Greta and I are heavily into erotic pain, and we scene regularly with other hardcore players. So we are careful not to judge others who might have a more, uh, intense lifestyle than we do. I think that’s the main reason we didn’t react sooner. We just assumed you two were in a consensual relationship.” He reached for Greta’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “It was thanks to Greta that we returned.”

“Ja,” Greta agreed. “I told Wolfie something was not right. For us, D/s is our lifestyle and it makes us very happy. Consent is at the core of everything we do. I need intense erotic pain, and Wolfie understands this and gives me what I need. But, the true…”—she turned to Wolf—“How do you say, Grundlage?”

“Foundation,” Wolf supplied.

“Ja, foundation,” Greta repeated. “The foundation of our relationship is love. One day you, too, will find that love, Callie. Don’t let this horrible man take that from you. That would be the greatest crime of all.”When they finally returned to the hotel, it was nearly dawn. “You will sleep in the bed with me,” Greta informed Callie, to her surprise. “Wolfie is happy to sleep on the sofa bed in the other room.” Wolf nodded his agreement

“But,” Callie began, not wanting to put this wonderful couple out any more than she already had.

“No buts,” Greta interrupted. “We have already discussed this. You are clearly a very strong woman, and the nightmare may be over, but recovery will take time. You should not be alone for a while.”

When Callie slid between the soft sheets, she was grateful for Greta’s comforting presence beside her. Surely exhausted herself, Greta was soon snoring softly. Callie lay awake a long while, her mind whirling over the events of the long night.

Damon was in the hospital, and she had been assured there was a policeman stationed outside his door. She had thought she wanted him dead, but in retrospect, she was glad he was still alive.

Once he was handed over to the U.S. authorities, he would be tried for kidnapping and aggravated sexual assault. Callie would be right there to testify, no matter how difficult it might be to relive the harrowing events of the past month. She would make sure he was put away for a long, long time. In prison, he might come to learn firsthand what it felt like to be taken against his will. The thought almost made her smile. As her mom liked to say, “What goes around, comes around.”

Though she doubted she would be able to sleep a wink, Callie finally closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, bright sunshine filled the room.Though it was after three o’clock when she finally sat down to a meal with Greta and Wolf in the hotel’s restaurant, Callie ordered her favorite meal—blueberry pancakes, eggs over easy and bacon, along with a large mug of coffee with plenty of cream and sugar.

After a while, she realized Wolf and Greta were staring at her, both of them smiling as they watched her shovel the delicious food greedily into her mouth. With an embarrassed laugh, she put down her fork a moment and wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin in her lap. As she did so, she was struck by a fierce appreciation for the basic dignity afforded her by just the act of eating good food at a table with proper utensils, in the company of friends.

While she had been asleep, Greta had picked up a few items of clothing for her. She was now dressed in jeans and a knit top, along with a pair of comfortable sandals, everything exactly her size. Her hair was washed, her body clean, her spirit energized by the good night’s sleep and the knowledge her parents were on a plane, expected to arrive in a few hours.

She had always taken these things—to be clean, to have access to good food and to be treated with dignity and respect by others—completely for granted. But it had all been stolen from her while under Damon’s iron control. She silently promised herself she would never forget how easily these simple nods to humanity could be stripped away.