Screams in the shadows can be heard surrounding him. He cannot see. He cannot speak. He cannot move. He recognizes nothing. All he hears is screams. Terrible screams. Some are shrieking. All are desperate. Fear is erupting though his entire body. The screams, combined with his lack of sight, lack of ability to move, and not knowing where he is, Mr. Smith enters full panic mode. He can't breathe. A massive, dark-filled presence seems to be moving in on him. He feels this presence rapidly approaching. It starts to envelope him. This ominous dark presence imposes an incredible terror he has not ever experienced. Oh my God! Help me!
Mr. Smith is suddenly awaken by some kind of undiscernible noise. His heart is beating out of his chest and his breathing rapid, nearly out of control. His head is pounding and his eyes burn at the light as he tries to open them, forcing him to keep them closed. As he tries to survey his surroundings, Mr. Smith begins to realize he cannot move just like in his dream. Not only can he not move, he has no feeling in his limbs. He is paralyzed. As Mr. Smith attempts to gather himself in the midst of this completely disorientating situation, he hears a female voice calling out to him over to his left.
"Mr. Smith? Mr. Smith, can you hear me?"
"Uhma, uhmamauh..." He tries to talk but all he can do is mumble.
"Good. Okay, Mr. Smith let me explain to you what is happening. You must still be in a hazy fog having just come out from your slumber," says the female voice.
Mr. Smith tries to nod his head in acknowledgement but cannot. All he can do is groan. There is something comforting about the female voice, something familiar about her presence. He cannot place it, but this familiarity helps him stay just this side of complete panic.
"So, you are in our playroom. You were given a slight paralytic to immobilize your body, but allowed your breathing and heart to continue." The female voice continues, "The effect should wear off in the next thirty minutes or so. Try to remember the conversation we all had when we planned this. You were there. We carried you and placed you on the bed while we continued the preparations. Don't worry. Your memory and movement will fully return."
As Mr. Smith continues to try to open his eyes, they are starting to adjust and the burning subsiding. His pupils bring him into focus and he can now see himself in the refection above him in a mirror on the ceiling. He can see his naked body lying in the center of a bed, his limp cock laying over to one side of his upper thigh.
"Good. Good, you're starting to recover," says a male voice from the shadows on the other side of the room. "Is your memory starting to come back? Can you move?"
"Uh," groans Mr. Smith. "What is going on?" he mumbles barely understandably.
"I'll take that as a no," says the male voice. Now directing his voice in another direction, Mr. Smith hears the male voice shout forcibly toward the female voice. "Your ass to the shackles! Now, little girl!"
"Yes, Daddy," she says sheepishly as she immediately scurries across the room. Daddy watches her tits and plump little ass wiggle and jiggle all the way there, as he gently strokes his semi hard cock.
The wheels in his brain start to turn. Daddy? Mr. Smith starts to get in touch with this familiarity. Daddy and little girl. Wait. He knows them. He recognizes those names. His familiarity matches with the voices, but he struggles to recall how he knows them. Then, it starts to come back and he recalls a conversation.
"So, this is what is going to happen," says Daddy. "When you least expect it, we are going to jump you. You will not know when or where. We are just going to grab you, put a hood over your head, and inject a needle into your neck. You will be injected with a slight paralytic that will immobilize you temporarily, but you will breathe just fine and your heart will continue to beat. You still with me?"
"Wow, okay. Then what?" says Mr. Smith.
"You will wake up, but it will take a little time before you get your movement and memory back. It will be disorientating at first. It'll freak you out pretty good, but try to remember this conversation. We will also be there and help you remember as well."
Clanking and clattering of chains and shackles echo in the room bringing his attention back to the present. The female voice, he now knows is little girl, is working the chains. Mr. Smith moves his eyes to his right, relieved he can move something. He can see her in the ceiling mirror over to his right and watches her secure herself to some contraption. Her beautiful dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she is facing toward him. He notices her luscious perky tits jiggling and swaying as she moves her arms and shifts her weight. As she works the chains, little girl appears to be well versed in what she is doing. Her ankles are already secure. Mr. Smith can see the shackles secured to a bar. She is standing barefoot on a two inch diameter steel bar, about four feet long, raised slightly off the floor. The contraption is anchored to the floor with large bolts driven into the concrete. That will soon be very painful, he imagines. Each leg is spread wide with each shackle secured to a vertical bar welded to each end of the horizontal bar she is standing on. At her waist, she is leaning slightly forward against another two inch horizontal bar. She is chained around the waist secured to the steel bar in front of her, and also with a chain that runs from behind her ass and between her legs, anchored to the steel bar on which she is standing. He can see redness at her waist begin to show on her milky white skin as her weight rubs against the bar as she moves. The contraption's shape reminds him of how he used to kneel in the Church Pugh as he prayed in church as a child. Only instead of kneeling, she is standing and it is made of steel bars. Hanging above her, and an additional few inches past the bar at her waist, are two chains hanging from the ceiling with iron shackles at the end.
"Hurry up!" yells Daddy. "You better hurry and finish or you will pay!"
"Yes, Daddy."