As soon as the laundry van pulled out from the Bowland residence, the duo pulled off their latex gloves and began stripping off their black coveralls and changed into their normal clothes. The van drove cautiously out of the residential area and joined the evening rush of vehicular exodus through the city.

After the men made sure they had departed from the Bowland residence safely, Ajax unpacked Hallae from the laundry bag and laid her out on the floor of the back of the van. She lay slumped on her face, her eyes half-closed and her wrists and ankles bound. She had a lilac sleeveless blouse under her black cardigan, both of which had became brunched up on her stomach, revealing her well toned abs and smooth back. Her dark blue denim jeans had also been disturbed during the capture process and her black thong was clearly visible.

Buddy fondled the smooth back and pulled playfully at the thong. Although he had assisted Ajax on several ‘collection’ missions, unlike the older man, Buddy had found some of their targets too hot to resist.

“This one is pretty hot, eh?” he motioned to Ajax, who raised his eyebrow knowingly.

“Look, no touch,” Ajax said, “don’t spoil the fucking whore. Boss will have your dick if you did.”

“But…” Buddy protested, “It’s a freaking long way to the Ranch. We’ve got to find some way to pass the time!”

“Just watch the slut, and keep your pencil dick to yourself.” Ajax flipped him a look, and proceeded to join the driver, leaving Buddy alone in the back compartment.

Undaunted, Buddy flipped Hallae to her side and began reaching his hand up the front of her blouse. He almost drooled when his hand made contact with her 36D breasts. Eager to have a closer look, he pulled her cardigan back down her arms and lifted her blouse to her armpits, exposing her bra and the large mounds of pick meat confined within. He eagerly tugged the cups down, and her perfectly round tits popped into view.

Glancing guardedly at the passenger’s seat upfront, Buddy saw that Ajax was yawning sleepily, and was preparing to take a nap. The young driver grinned crookedly at Buddy through his rear-view mirror, and concentrated on his long driving ahead. Assured, he leaned down onto the unconscious figure and began sucking and licking the dark tits on the pink flesh. Soon, he was kneading the large mounds earnestly with one hand, while his other hand freed his sizeable tool from his pants and was wanking it vigorously.

Hallae moaned huskily and twitched her body sporadically, resisting the intrusion instinctively. Unconcerned, Buddy reached down the front of her jeans and started teasing her clit and was rewarded by a dripping cunt. This is one hot mama! He looked longingly at the petite yet curvaceous figure, while stroking fervently on his tool. He knew that he cannot fuck this slut yet, at least not in the cunt, until Boss had finished with her. Then again… A thought cross his mind. He looked cautiously at the front seat and was satisfied to see Ajax drooping over the passenger seat, deep in slumber.

Buddy moved steadily forward, carefully pried her lips apart and slid his hot, throbbing member into her mouth. He sighed audibly as her cool lips closed around his dick and began plunging it deep into her mouth. He was just beginning to throat fuck her when she started gagging and tightening her throat around the large organ, milking and massaging him for all he’s worth. He shuddered ecstatically, and pounded his dick deeper and harder into those beautiful lips.

He was nearly done and was starting to feel the familiar sensation of exploding balls when a stinging slap across his face threw him backwards. His dick slipped abruptly out of Hallae’s lips. Before he could stop himself, he climaxed, spraying the strings of cum all over her face and landing some on the floor of the van.

Still surrounded by the orgasmic buzz, he turned around dazedly, to come face to face with a fuming Ajax.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Ajax shouted, punching him in the face, “what did I tell you about keeping your fucking prick to yourself!”

“But…” Buddy burbled, “it’s only a little freaking head!”

But Ajax was getting none of that. He grabbed Buddy by his dick and yanked it furiously. Buddy bellowed with pain, and struggled feebly before wrenching his dick free and lay curled on the floor, clutching his balls. He stared apprehensively at Ajax.

“One more time, Bud,” Ajax warned, “It will be the last time you have a fucking dick to play with!” Buddy nodded meekly.

“Now,” Ajax continued, “Check and make sure the slut is still in fucking dreamland, then clean the place up, and don’t get anymore bright ideas!”

Ajax threw his young partner another angry glare before heading back to the passenger seat. In the front, the driver gave a sympathetic look through the mirror, while continuing towards the Ranch.

Sheepishly, Buddy tucked his sore dick back into his pants, and began fumbling around the van to look for something to clean Hallae with. He found a dirty rag and wiped his cum off Hallae’s lips and face and redressed her. Resolutely ignoring Ajax’s angry scowls, he busied himself with cleaning the floor of the van free of cum, and also making sure the ‘goods’ was none for the worse. He checked the inertia form and was relieved to see the slut still unconscious. He gave her a booster shot, just in case, and left her lying on her side, deeply drugged and completely unaware of the events transpiring.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, Buddy checking the unconscious woman occasionally and Ajax watching him with an eagle eye. The seemingly awkward trip finally came to an end when the van drove up to the gates of the Ranch.

The J Ranch stood at its private plot of land, a sizeable peninsular of land the size of a nature reserve, jutting from the coastline and steep, plunging cliffs on all sides. Further inland, patches of dense vegetation peppered the property, concealing the main estate from prying eyes. The transport van drove straight through the outer gates and into the inner sanctum of J Ranch, where the outwardly tranquil residence belied the strict security and surreptitious activities within. After passing the security checks at the inner gates, the van reached the nucleus of the J Ranch.

In the heart of the compound, an imposing four storey masonry building stood, surrounded by smaller auxiliary buildings. Large French windows lined the sides of the building. Some had curtains drawn across the windows, others had drawn curtains. By the time the vehicle reached the compound, the sun was already hidden from view and dim lights seeped from some of the windows.

Without hesitation, the van headed towards the entrance of the underground parking lot beneath the main building and disappeared into the darkness.

 “Bring the whore to Doc, then report to my office!” Ajax instructed, after the van was parked in the unloading bay. “Don’t fuck this up, or I will feed you your puny dick, then feed your ass to the dogs!”

Gesturing warningly to Bud, he stormed away, with the driver trailing in his wake.

Buddy watched the men depart, shrugged nonchalantly and proceeded to unload the latest stock. He pushed a gurney to the van, loaded and strapped Hallae securely onto it. He took the prisoner into a waiting lift, onto the upper floors and pushed the gurney into the ranch’s examination room.

There he untied her bindings, moved her onto an examination table and shackled her neck to velcros on the table. He then removed her cardigan, blouse and jean, lingering gloomily at her full breasts restrained behind those unostentatious cups. He tossed the pieces of clothing into a bin, and her bra and throng soon joined the pile. He fastened the naked woman’s wrists to the shackles at the side of the table and lifted her ankles onto stirrups, strapping them into the Velcro restraints.

After securing her onto the examination table and preparing her for the doc’s assessment, he proceeded to remove her earrings, necklace engagement and wedding bands and other accessories she had on her body. He completed his prep after wiping her face clean of makeup, and trimmed the nails on her fingers and toes close to the flesh.

The ranch’s resident doctor, Doc, arrived soon after, and began his assessment of Hallae.

He took the normal measurements of her temperature and blood pressure, checked her respiratory and lungs, and gave her a general clean bill of health. He then positioned himself at the foot of the table, separated her thighs and started the internal assessment. He checked for signs of prior sexual intercourse, sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancies, and confirmed that she did not have any implanted contraceptives in her. He also checked her rectum for prior intercourse and pronounced her ‘a cherry in the ass’.

Finishing off the examination, he drew blood from her arm and declared her healthy and disease-free, pending blood results. He motioned for Buddy to add her to the Boss’s inventory, then left the room. Since the whore is clear to join the Boss’s harem, Buddy now had to prep her for him.

He gave her the standard stuff: vagina and anus suppositories inserted into the respective orifices to clean the canals, microchip injected into the back of her neck as identification and an electronic collar fastened securely around her neck. He then redressed Hallae in a flimsy lilac bra, teeny G-string and finally, a see-through lavender teddy that left nothing to the imagination. Strapped of all personal accessories, tagged and collared, the identity of Hallae was fading and before long, she will become a part of Jace’s harem, identified only by the number in etched her neck. Buddy freed her from the table and re-secured her onto the gurney and wheeled her to the next available holding cell.

She was transported to an empty room bare of furniture except for the thick mattress wedged against the wall and bolted to the carpeted floor. The room was small, with little walking space around the mattress, and surrounded by thick carpeted walls. Directly opposite to the mattress, thick double glazed glass stood before velvety curtains, which covered the entire length of the wall. Beside this wall, another panel of double glazed glass in front of curtained French windows. The heavy velvety curtains were drawn aside, presenting a panoramic view of the coastline, and the dazzling night sky.

He laid Hallae onto the mattress, covered her with a blanket and left her to sleep off the drugs. A day’s job completed, he dimmed the concealed lights in the room and left.

Hallae woke up somewhere near midnight. She blinked and squinted near-sightedly around but there was nothing familiar in the shadows surrounding her. Dazedly, she tried to sit up, but was overcome with nausea. Her limbs felt that they were encased in lead, and a splitting headache seemed to pound her head, turning her brain into mush. There was a strange taste in her mouth and a dull pain at the base of her head. She dragged her arm over her eyes and tried to focus in the near darkness. The only source of light was the weak smear of moonlight streaming through the windows.

“Brent?” she croaked, her throat as dry as sandpaper, “Brent? Are you here?”

The only sound that answered her was the gentle whirring of the air-con fans working and the muted sound of crashing waves.

“Hello? Anyone here? Hello? I need some water here…” she wheezed, before hacking coughs overcome her.

She struggled to sit up and stumbled uncertainly out of the bed. She crawled feebly to the light source, the unfamiliar carpet irritating her limbs, and hit her head unexpectedly at the glass panel before her. She peered through the glass and could not make out any familiar landmarks outside the window. In fact, there was nothing but the Milky Way visible outside. Confused, she pushed and pounded the glass, scanned around the room, all the time calling for help, before succumbing to another bout of nausea.

Unnerved, she stumbled back onto the mattress and pulled the blanket around her. Laying her heavy head onto the cool pillows, she tried to figure out what was going on, but fell into another deep sleepless slumber.

In the Main Control room, the technician on duty watched with disinterest at the movements in Cell 205. His duty was to monitor the inmates and make sure they did not do anything they were not supposed to, like hurting themselves, or heaven forbid, die. The new cunt in cell 205 seemed to have come out from the sedative well enough. She will be under observation until the blood test results come back, and all Carlos had to do, was to ensure she remained alive until then.

When Hallae opened her eyes again, bright rays of sun were already streaming into the room. She tried once again to focus on her surroundings and was startled to find that she was not alone. A burly man in grey coveralls stood near the entrance of the room. His face was covered by a full face leather mask, and he held a plastic tray in laden with food. She quivered in fright when the man moved, but he only offered the tray in his hand and a plastic cup full of liquid.

“Who are you?” she tried to speak, but her throat crackled and she broke into barking coughs. The man put the tray down on the floor and offered the cup to her. Raging with thirst, she reluctantly accepted the cup and gulped the cool water greedily.

“Eat!” the man ordered, gesturing to the tray.

“Who are you?” she asked timidly, “Where am I? What do you want?”

“Eat!” the man repeated. He walked to the opposite corner of the room and lifted a hinged panel on the floor. Beneath the panel, a squatting toilet was built into the floor.

“Shit here and nowhere else!” the man barked, dropping the panel back into place. The muted sound of a flushing toilet followed.

“But, who are you?” Hallae tried again, but the man went on as if she never spoke.

He lifted the panel again and pointed to tiny depression beside the toilet hole, a small stream of running water drained into the tiny basin. “Water,” he indicated gruffly, “for drinking.”

She looked dumbfounded at the man’s casual introduction; the man had acted as though he was showing her the hotel facilities. Her mind, still confused by the sedatives, was unable to make head or tail of all that was happening.

What is going on? She thought, where am I? What do they want with me? Where is Brent? Is he okay? What do they want?

Cowering on the mattress, she stared past the masked man and at the curtained wall opposite to the bed, where a doorway stood. Turning back toward the man, she looked vacantly at the leather mask. Without warning, she sprung up from the mattress and sprinted towards freedom. And slammed full-faced into air. She had not noticed the double glazed glass between her and the curtained wall and doorway. She sat stunned on the floor.

The man sniggered and dragged her by her hair to the tray on the floor. He thrust her head towards the tray, pushing her face close to the food.

“Eat your food, cunt, and don’t try to be so smart next time. Enjoy the good time while they last! Eat!”

Meekly, she picked up the morsels of cooked meat and put them into her mouth. She chewed slowly at first; mindful of the man’s watchful eyes on her every move. But she soon realised she was ravenous; her last meal a lifetime ago, and quickly finished what was put before her. The man motioned for her to back off, and return to the bed, before he retrieved the tray. As if by some unseen signal, a section of the glass panel slid aside silently, allowing him to stroll right through the door before sliding back into place again.

In the terrifyingly quiet room, Hallae sat rigidly on the mattress, leaning against the far corner and the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Confused and frightened, she hugged her knees close to her chest. But now fed and re-hydrated, her mind slowly cleared and she recovered enough to start surveying her surrounding. She was just starting to explore around the room, when the blanket slipped from her shoulders. With a start, she realised she was not wearing her usual wardrobe.

Shocked, she stared mutely down at the thin material she was wearing, her body clearly visible through the flimsy fabric. Fear gripped her with the realisation that she had been stripped naked by those unknown men. She drew back into the corner and pulled the blanket even more tightly around herself. Tears threatened to overflow as awful thoughts ran through her mind. Her hand rose instinctively to touch her necklace, as she usually did when she was nervous. The sapphire pendant and necklace was a family heirloom, and had brought her through many difficult times.

But it was not there. Instead her fingers touched the cool, clammy collar around her neck. Unable to see what it was, she clawed frantically at the collar, but it was wound securely on her neck, and she nearly strangled herself trying to break the choker. Her finger touched the sore spot on the back of her neck, and with some prodding; she could make out the site where a lump was lodged in her neck. It reminded her of the microchip the vet had implanted in her dog. Almost unwillingly, she checked her ring finger, but they had not spared her engagement and wedding bands.

Alone, stripped of her personal possessions and her own clothes and trapped in a cell resembling a fish tank, she no longer could hold the tears and fears erupting within her.

“Return my stuff to me!” she cried, pounding the glass panel to the door hysterically, “Assholes! Cowards! Give me back my stuff and let me go at once!”

Incoherent and agitated, she raved and attacked the glass panel, kicking and punching the panel. Until finally, exhausted, she slumped into a heap at the panel, her ravings reduced to sobbing whimpers.

“Please… let me go…” she sobbed, “let me go…please…”

She dragged her body back onto the mattress bed, drew the blanket around herself and curled herself into a tight ball, wedged close against her corner.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” she whimpered to the desolate cell air, “Why? Why me? Let me go, please!”

But there was no answer to her pleads, except for the whirring of the air-con fans. She lay on the bed, sobbing and whimpering, until exhaustion finally overtook her and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

She woke up the next morning to see (another?) masked handler arriving with the day’s meal. When she begged the man to let her go, the man pointedly ignored her and gestured at the food on the tray. She retreated fearfully into her corner, refusing to touch the food. The man offered the tray towards her, but she screamed and slapped the tray away.

Shrugging indifferently, the man cleared the mess as best as he could and left the room with the food uneaten. Hallae lay curled on the bed, tensed and terrified of what may come. Horrifying thoughts ran amok in her mind, flooding her with fear and adrenaline. She spooked at the tiniest of sound, imagining the worst every time. Wound as tight as a spring, the mental tension rapidly drained her of energy.

But as the shadows lengthened and the light faded away, nothing appeared to be happening. As night approached, she dozed in short fits, jolting awake every few minutes. Despite the thick blanket, the room’s temperature dipped and she felt the chilly air penetrate the flimsy gown and stabbed right through her body. When the dawn finally broke, she was physically exhausted and drained mentally.

When the glass panel did open, it was only the mask handler and his tray of food. He gestured to the food and waited. The sweet aroma of the bread roll and meat gravy wafted to her nose and set her stomach growling. But determined to hold out, Hallae remained curled and refused to touch the food. After what seemed like ages, the man casually took the tray and left.

And she was alone again. Surrounded by the stifling silence, she waited for the inevitable that never came. She found herself sporadically drooping into slumber and then jarring to consciousness. Hunger pangs gripped her stomach and rest constantly mocked her. the room’s temperature dipped as the central air-conditioning system worked tirelessly. Her teeth chattered so violently, she thought they are going to break.

Finally, the next time the handler arrived with the food, she reluctantly submitted and reached for the food when he ordered her to. She bit gratefully into the meat and greens and sighed with satisfaction as the warm food went down her stomach, warming her from inside out.

The handler grinned to himself as he watched the slut succumbed to her basic needs. Miracle what a few days of missed meals, isolation and reduced heating can do. Soon, he will have the slut eating out of his fingers, like so many others before her.

The days darkened into nights, which in turn brightened into days. She waited each day for something to happen, but the waiting yielded nothing but hours of fearful apprehension. She had no contact with no one other than the handler, who refused to respond to her questions, pleads and requests. Nevertheless, it was the only form of human contact available to her

How long had she been here? She wondered. Days? Weeks? Months?  She was beginning to find it difficult to keep track of time, of the days and nights.

Why hasn’t anyone found her yet? Were they looking for her? What was Brent doing? Is he looking for her?

She wandered aimlessly around her prison, prancing restlessly around like a caged animal in her flimsy teddy, which was starting to show signs of wear. Her inhibitions started to erode, she no longer felt uncomfortable in the translucent lingerie. She tried to remember the last thing she was doing before she was taken prisoner, but it was getting hazier with each moment that passed. Hallae Bowland, the person, was fading away.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally lost it. When the handler came with the morning meal, she immediately confronted him.

“Why are you keeping me here?” she shrieked, pouncing on the figure as soon as he appeared.

“Who are you? What exactly do you want? Why are you keeping me here? Either you kill me, or you let me go! I’m not an animal, you can’t keep me here like this! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Help! Help! Somebody, help me!”

The handler merely shook the petite body off him, fended off her pummelling and entertained her ravings in calm, if not bored manner. After her screeching diminished, he gestured at the food as always. It was as if nothing had happened at all. She wailed and kicked the food tray aside. The handler just shrugged unflappably, cleaned up and left.

In the Main Control room, Carlo grinned to himself. These purebreds are just so predictable, a few days of solitary confinement and they all start cracking like nuts. It’s not even a week, and the slut is already losing it. Just in time for the main course. The blood tests results had arrived and she had passed all the checks. Boss had just given instructions to proceed.

She watched the handler strolled out of her prison, her mind confused and agitated. She was started pacing around, dreading another day of isolation when she noticed changes in the routine. The curtains over the French windows started gliding silently across, throwing her prison into darkness.

“Stop! What are you doing? What do you want?” she screamed apprehensively, throwing herself onto the glass panel and tried in vainly to claw the curtains back from the other side of the glass.

Petrified, she cowered back into her corner on the mattress.

“What do you want?” she whispered hoarsely.

A warm glow of light from concealed sources flooded the room. Then, after all the days of complete silence, a loud voice boomed from unseen speakers.

“Good afternoon, Bowland,” a detached voice spoke, “I trust you are enjoying your stay with us?”

“Who are you? What do you want?” she whimpered.

“Who we are is not important. More importantly, who are you?”

“I…”

“Hallae Gina Bowland, wife of Brent Bowland, respectable businessman.”

“What do you want? Where’s Brent?” Horrible images of Brent’s dead body flooded her mind.

“Do you love your husband?” the voice suddenly asked.

“What?”

“Do you love your husband?” it repeated.

“Of course! I love Brent and he loves me!” reflexively, Hallae responded to the air.

“Really? Bowland really, truly loves you?”

“Of course! I’m his wife!”

“Then, shouldn’t he be out looking for you?”

“He will find me!”

“I doubt it, Bowland, I really doubt it.”

“No! He loves me and he will find me…. Unless….. unless you killed him!” Tears of fear welled up.

“No, Bowland, we didn’t kill your husband. But right now, I’m afraid he’s got more important things on his mind.”

“No! What else can be more important than looking for his missing wife? What?”

“Another woman, or should I say, girl?”

“What…”

The curtained wall suddenly slid aside to reveal the large projection screen hidden behind the curtain. The screen exploded into pictures and the room was suddenly filled with loud TV static. On the screen, the evening 8 o’clock news was on, with the local newscaster reporting the current headlines: ‘Daughter of prominent businessman missing'. The date on the side of the screen was 7 Feb.

<Voice of news reader>

The only daughter of Eric Saggio, 14 year-old Jacquetta Saggio, was reported missing today.

She was last seen having her lunch in the school cafeteria, and witnesses had seen her helped out, apparently sick, by an unidentified man.

After the lunch hour ended, she was reported missing from her classes, and she had not been seen since.

Anyone who has news of her whereabouts is encouraged to come forward…..

Hallae stared uncomprehendingly at the picture of Jacquetta Saggio in the clip. Missing girl, Saggio, 7 Feb…

The scene abruptly changed to another news clip with the headline:

‘Local businessman arrested on suspected kidnapping and assault charge’ – 9 Feb

<Voice of news reader>

A local businessman, Brent Bowland, was arrested yesterday afternoon for the kidnapping of Jacquetta Saggio.

Saggio had been reported missing and presumably kidnapped from her school the day before.

Following a informer tip, the police closed in on the Bowland residence late yesterday afternoon, and managed to rescue Saggio from the premise. She is reported to be severely injured and traumatised by her ordeal and currently in the hospital in critical condition.

The suspect, believed to be up-and-coming local businessman Brent Bowland, had reportedly engaged the police in combat during the rescue attempt and sustained injuries. He was arrested and admitted into the hospital for treatment. The police are now seeking Hallae Bowland, wife of the accused, to come forwards and assist with the case investigation…

She gaped open-mouthed at the screen, in an apparent state of shock.

Brent kidnapped the missing girl? He injured the girl? It can’t be… he is not that kind of person… Jumble thoughts raced through her head as the news jumped into the next headline.

'Local businessman to be charged with kidnapping and assault' – 11 Feb

The prime suspect in the kidnapping of Jacquetta Saggio will be formally charged in court today.

Jacquetta Saggio was kidnapped from her school on Monday afternoon and imprisoned by the accused until the police rescued her from the Bowland residence. She remained in critical condition in the hospital, although there is no information on the injuries she sustained.

Brent Bowland, the suspect arrested during the rescue had proclaimed his innocence. Due to the age of the victim, the prosecutor will be requesting for a gag order on all media reports with regards to this case.

The new clips kept coming, showing the different newscasters from various other news channels reporting on the same crime. The news clips followed from reports of the girl’s disappearance to the upcoming trial of the arrested suspect. Apparently, Brent had kidnapped a 14-year-old schoolgirl, from her school, and had brutally raped her.

Hallae cowered in her corner, overwhelmed by the barrage of news. Her thoughts were in total disarray, trains of thoughts broken by other trains of thoughts.

Brent? Kidnap? Rape? Brent? My Brent? Rape? Who? What? Why?

Then she noticed the news paper clipping captured onscreen. It was a clipping from the local tabloid papers, a paper known for outrageous accusation and bizarre reporting. Random lines jumped into her brain

'Local businessman's sex party'

The prime suspect in the kidnapping of Jacquetta Saggio had appeared to be a legitimate businessman, who had recently rumoured to be closing a multi-million deal with the government.

According to reliable sources, Bowland is not all he appeared to be. Sources revealed that he had often engaged in deviant sexual parties, with multiple partners and engaging in SM activities. Bowland had reportedly participated in these sexual orgies and had even helped to organise some of these 'parties'.

Coincidentally, his wife and able assistant, Bowland, has disappeared following the arrest of Bowland. It is believed that Bowland has 'assisted' her husband in the Saggio kidnapping, and had fled the scene prior to Bowland's arrest. She had not been seen at the Bowland residence since, and sources believed that she has fled the country and her current whereabouts is unknown.

Following the scandal, the government is now denying all association with the Bowland Shipping Co.

Brent? Sex party? Me participated? Me? Organised? Me on the run? What?

“What the hell is going on?” she screamed, clutching her head in anguish, “These are lies! Lies! I never did anything! I never organised any…”

“And, that Bowland, is why Bowland is not out looking for you. He’s too busy defending his own ass!” The dispassionate voice spoke up one more time, before switching off again.

“No… no… no…” Hallae wailed, clamping her hands on her ears, as the barrage of news reports continued to pour from the screen. She lost track of what each report tried to say, as the reports began fused into one chaotic mess.

“No… it can’t be! Brent would never do that!” Hallae repeated to herself, resolutely refusing to believe in the news reports and clippings.

After what seemed like hours, the news clip videos finally ran itself out, and the screen wound into the familiar static screen. Hallae cringed in the corner, mumbling and muttering determinedly to herself. The impassive voice rang out once more.

“Still not convinced? Still sure your husband loves only you? How about a Valentines’ Day movie to prove his love? This is your husband’s gift to you, Bowland. Happy Valentines’ Day!”

The screen sprung to life again, with the movie title ‘The Bowland Love Story’.

Hallae’s breath caught in her throat as she saw a very familiar scene on the screen. It was an overview shot of the master bedroom in her house, the matrimonial bed that she had shared with Brent. It was the room that she and Brent had lovingly put together, where they both spent many wonderful days together. Hallae blushed at the thought of their lovemaking being caught on tape, distressed by the outrage of their privacy.

But the setting was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Brent was on their bed, but it wasn’t the same. There on the bed, was a petite girl, still dressed in her school uniform, strapped spread-eagle on their bed. Brent was bending over her, his actions unmistakeable. She could see the look of utter horror in the eyes of the girl. Even with the ball gag strapped over the mouth and chin, Hallae recognised the girl as the missing school girl. The girl that Brent had ‘allegedly’ kidnapped.

Not alleged. He did it.

Hallae watched in horror as she was given a ‘movie preview’ of Brent’s assault on the girl. Unable to wrench her eyes away, she took in all the sight and sounds presented before her as Brent sadistically raped the young girl again and again. The cameras moved in for a closer look at Brent’s victim.

The girl’s tear-stained face was a twisted picture of fear and pain, her eyes clenched and even the veins on her neck were clearly visible. Her muffled screams of terror and whimpers of pain filtered clearly through the speakers, along with Brent’s huffs and pants.

Confusion, disbelief, anger, fear and many other emotions overwhelmed Hallae. She no longer trusted herself even to think.

“Stop it!” Hallae wailed, shrinking fretfully away from the screen, “Stop it, please….please… make it stop… make Brent stop…. How could he do this? Please… make him stop!”

As soon as it started, the video projection was cut off, and the room was thrown back into complete silence and the only sounds hanging in the air were the sound of Hallae’s blood pounding in her ears and her heavy wheezing.

“Having fun yet?” a male voice cut through the silence. Hallae looked up to see a tall, broad shouldered man standing before him. Clad in a white bathrobe, the man’s almond-shaped green eyes stared fixedly at her, his thin lips drawn in a straight tight smile. His grey hair slightly ruffled, he looked like he had just gotten out of bed. He casually leaned against the glass panel and tapped his finger towards the screen.

“Enjoying your man’s performance?” the man’s face broke into a sneer, “Bet he never fucked you that eagerly before, huh?”

With a start, Hallae recognised the malevolent face with the distinctive eyes.

Jace Brown! One of the city’s most whispered name and most feared personality. His company, J Inc, was rumoured to have involvement in all levels of the city’s economy, legitimate and otherwise.

Cowering in terror, she stared warily at the man, all the time trying to draw the blanket closer around her, and twisted her body into a tight ball. When the infamous businessman made his move towards her, a horrified wail escaped her lips.

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Hope you have enjoyed the story so far. Stick around for Part III of The Bowland Agenda to find out, who is the real target in this twisted plan and what will happen to the Bowlands...