It was so easy. She had no idea how much information she had let slip in their chats over the internet. A small village near New Forest, and she worked locally in a shop that sold her favorite things. He had seen her picture, but she had never seen his, and she thought he lived in France while all the time he was in London.

He had walked into the shop on his second week of looking, and there she was. He bought a small item and left, followed her back to her house when she left work. It was set back from the road; the nearest neighbor was at least a quarter of a mile away, perfect.

He drove back to London and logged on that evening and chatted to her as normal. He told her next week he would not be online as often as he had friends staying. She would have to come over sometime. Knowing she did not have a passport from an earlier conversation, he invited her to come on a day trip Wednesday, her day off.

Of course, she refused and said she would just potter in the garden on Wednesday. She was going nowhere.

This was perfect for him. He knew her thoughts and fantasies. Shame, rape was not one of them, but it was his, and this week his fantasy would come true.

He drove down on Tuesday morning. He looked like an affluent businessman, six feet tall, in his late 30s, fit as he worked out regularly. It was easy to get in her back door with the skeleton key. He checked over the house; yes, no sign of a male presence. One other thing to check: that his laptop worked out here. Yes, it did, so he was all set.

He enjoyed the thought of raping his victim, but it was the fear, humiliation, and odd bits of hope. That was going to make this an experience to savor. Briefly, as he was placing objects in her fridge, he wondered what would go through the bitch’s mind.

Hiding the laptop in the spare bedroom, he checked his tablets, uppers, and Viagra just in case. He intended she gets no rest. He laid out the heavy metal chain for her legs, the handcuffs, and tied ropes to the legs of the old-fashioned Chesterfield sofa and settled down to wait.

Susan pulled up in her drive. Her feet hurt. She was looking forward to a nice long soak. She didn’t have to rush to get online as it was doubtful Jacques would get on tonight. She opened the front door, and as she bent to pick up her mail, the door was slammed shut, and she was thrown to the floor. A hand locked itself in her heavy tresses, and a knife was held against her throat.

Before she could recover from the shock, she was being dragged across the wooden floor by her hair. Her feet scrabbled for purchase to ease the pain of her scalp. Pulling her over to the couch, he released her hair and reached for the cuffs, knowing this is when she would try to run. As she struggled to her feet, he hit her hard in the stomach. Winded, she sank to her knees. He kneed her in the back, forcing her face down in the cushions.

He snapped the handcuffs on her. It was easy. Using the ropes he had placed earlier, he looped them around her elbows and back to the legs of the sofa, pulling her arms further up her back. She was not going anywhere, but he wanted to pile on the humiliation of her predicament. Two more ropes with heavy-duty rubber bands attached were tied to her long hair, causing her face to lift off the sofa and giving a constant pull on her scalp. A ball gag was forced into her mouth.

Finally, the long, heavy-duty metal chain was attached to her ankles. Looping it around the heavy coffee table, it forced her legs wide apart. She was supported only by her chest and knees. Using his knife, he cut her top clothes off slowly. Beneath, she was wearing plain white underwear.