He knew from the moment he laid eyes on her she was the one he had to have. He didn't care if she wanted him. She was his. His property, his to own, to use, to abuse, to fuck, and to control. Now, he needed to figure out the best way to get her. He knew he needed to get her when she was alone, on an empty stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. The question was how to orchestrate her disappearance. He was a master of disguises, so he knew he could fool her into pulling over to help an old man with his broken-down car. From watching her and stalking her for the last six months, he knew she would fall that rouse.
She was almost perfect. She was of average height, about five-five, with dark, almost black hair that fell in soft waves halfway down her waist. Her brown eyes and olive skin tone were intriguing. Her chest was magnificent, at least a D-cup, but she had a little too much weight around her middle. That she would lose quickly, with a strict diet of bread and water for a week or two. He knew his time was coming, so he prepared her cell ahead of her arrival. Once she conforms, she'll get better accommodations, but until then, she'll stay in the welcoming unit. It's a small ten X ten room with a shower head in the corner that only releases cold water with a toilet and sink.
A single mattress on the floor with nothing more than a sheet. No pillow, no mirror, no windows, no closet, no dressers. He purchased her collar, a platinum choker similar to what used to be used on dogs. After all, until she learns her role, she was nothing more than a bitch. After hacking into her online shopping accounts, he knew her clothing and shoe size. He'd buy her clothes a size smaller, especially on top. Those were assets that needed to be put on display. The size he purchased for her is her ideal size, in his opinion, and she would be given a minimal amount of food to sustain her until the clothes fit her, tight to her body but able to move.
Until she was the proper weight, she'd wear nothing. He also purchased her custom ankle and wrist bracelets, ones that could only be removed by him, with plenty of loops to offer an endless variety of configurations to contort her body into.
Being an expert in computers, he finally hacked into her GPS. He knew her schedule and determined the perfect time to send her on a detour to a little-traveled road late at night. She never veered from her GPS directions, even when they seemed ridiculous. He learned that by messing with her GPS a few times already. This would be child's play. When she sees him with his gray hair, hunched over with a cane next to a disabled car, she'll stop to make sure he's okay and will volunteer to call for help. Once she's close, he'll inject her with the sedative, place her in the crate in the trunk, and drive off to his estate. She'll wake up in her cell, with all of her possessions left in her abandoned car, with the GPS wiped. No one will ever find her. Soon, my bitch, then you'll be mine.
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Kiera hated going to these stupid corporate parties. Still, she knew if she wanted to be anything more than a lowly secretary in the pool and rise to an administrative assistant for one of the partners; she needed to attend. She'd wear a dress that would accentuate her enormous chest without being slutty, making sure the skirt was only an inch or two above her knee. Keeping it work-appropriate but sexy made her stand out. She'd drink only one alcoholic beverage, then stick to sparkling water for the rest of the night. She'd flirt and make small talk, only to escape once the men got handsy. By that point, they were intoxicated enough not to miss her and to not remember when she left. They'd think she stayed until the end, but in reality, she always left by ten, when the party never ended before midnight.
In her car, Kiera put in her house to the GPS. She didn't know why this party was so far from the offices, but she admitted that the food and service were far better than any other location. Her trip home started off typically, but then GPS told her to go down a smaller country lane. She didn't understand why, but then she remembered some roadwork signs she saw on her way to the party. That must be the reason. She drove along, listening to her music, not aware that there was danger ahead.
About ten minutes later, she saw a disabled vehicle at the side of the road. It looked like a larger car, like a Cadillac, not that she knows anything about cars. She wasn't going to stop until she saw it was an old man, one who was about the age of her grandfather, who was stuck. Kiera knew she didn't know anything about cars, but she knew how to use a cell phone. She pulled over in front of the car and got out, leaving her keys in the ignition and the phone in its holder. She shut off the car, not wanting to idle in this serene setting.
"Sir, are you okay? Do you need me to call for help?"
