Whips and chains

My name is Carol. I am 24. When I hear the words dating sites, I get nervous, goosebumps fill my body and my bladder starts to press me. Dating sites almost cost my life. This is what happened to me sometime ago.

I was lonely. I had just broken up with my ex boyfriend some few weeks ago. My best friend’s love life was so smooth that I needed something like that.

“Nowadays, everything is online, men too.” She said as we laughed at her joke. She always laughed at how she met her boyfriend. She had joined a dating group on Facebook and Frank’s picture had caught her eye. She loved reading his posts so she waved him for his attention. Frank waved back immediately and the chats started. Within a few months,both left the group after announcing to the group members that they had found each other.

When they finally met, Mary was not happy about his height(something we had a good laugh about) but he spoke fluently, with a sophisticated accent. He also treated her well, pulling her chair while she sat down and buying her treats. He dressed smartly , smelled well and was well behaved. He even ate an egg with a fork and knife. No need to tell you how Mary and I ate our eggs.

They went for several dates that would end with passionate clothe tearing, back scratching, lip biting and vigorous excited humping sessions. Mary had winked at me that despite his short height, his organs were fully packed and he used them like a pro.

I wanted an exciting relationship too, but I can be very fastidious, I wanted the kind of man who had my desired qualities. Dating sites gave me that option to choose. I made an attractive profile on the site.

When the suitors started to stream in my inbox, one caught my eye. His user name was “Mr Q”. His profile picture did not give much but his details were eye catching. He was single, graduated with a Masters, pursuing a PhD . He was working in the big offices of the president and lived in a posh estate. He wanted somebody serious for marriage. He added ‘no jokers please’ at the end of the profile.

I got intrigued. I wanted an educated man. I always dreamt of chasing a Masters and Phd too in future. This was the right man to guide me through. Then his job, a man working with the president! A rich man was good for a husband, I told myself. And for the no jokers part, I clearly was not one.

So I wrote back to him. He replied almost immediately. He asked me to call him Q. He would reveal his real name when he felt he would trust me. He did not want to be exposed badly because of his sensitive career. The mystery around him excited me. I could already see our future together. I wanted to give him the prophesy, that it would be me he would trust, it would be me he would love then marry. But I stopped, what if he thought I was a psycho? He would block me and I would lose a husband just like that!

We chatted often. He wanted to know about me first so I offered him every answer to his question. I did not want to be dishonest lest he found out and dumped me. Weeks later, he started to open up albeit very cautiously. His real name was Quincy. He was a first born of four. He came from a poor background but his hard work in school had pushed him to great heights. He was now building his parents a house and educating his siblings. I had that aaaawww feeling at his grass to grace story.

We continued to chat, we revealed our secrets to each other, our fears and our weaknesses. We even exchanged phone numbers. By four months, we knew so much about each other. I felt like he was now closer to me than Mary was . He had even advised me not to say much about him to Mary. We would tell her at the right time. Then he finally typed something I had typed so much but lacked the courage to send.

I want us to meet

I jumped up and down like a child in a bouncing castle. I could not let him know how excited I was at his proposal so that day, I did not reply. I woke up the next day to a myriad of texts. He was in panic. Had he said something wrong? Didn’t I want to meet him? Or was I hiding something from him? I was amused at his fears but happy he was eager to meet me, a mere third year student.

I want us to meet too dear.

I replied and immediately got his feedback which cracked a grin on me. He sent a text full of kissing emojis followed by a number of love hearts.

He wrote another text. He would send a cab to get me, he would be waiting for us and we would pick him and go somewhere and have dinner. That was a good plan for me. I dressed, not to kill, but to turn heads. I wore my make up , not too much but with sophistication. My thin braids were styled to a pony tail. As I left the hostel room, I bumped into Mary and her boyfriend. One look at me and they demanded answers.I gave.

“We are going with you. ” Mary said. I objected.

“Remember when I was going to meet Frank for the first time,you had to come with me and you stayed a few metres away to be sure he was not crooked. It’s my turn now,whether you like it or not. “

And the decision was made. Frank and Mary took a different cab that followed at a safe distance. Quincy was not prepared yet. Could I come and wait for him in the house? He asked. He also asked for my taxi driver’s number to pay him via mobile transfer. Quincy wanted to drive me himself for a dinner date as soon as he was prepared. I texted Mary to inform her why the change of plan.

We will be waiting. If you take longer than an hour we call you. If you do not pick, we call police.

I laughed at Mary. Police really? Sometimes she could be so dramatic. I walked to the super gated house. The watchman opened. His boss was expecting me, he said. Quincy’s house spelled opulence. The fresh green grass looked so unreal that I picked a leaf to scrutinize its authenticity. The house was built in extravagance. I pressed the door bell near the glass door. A few seconds past and the door was opened. There was no one to receive me.

“Please come in!” That was a voice from far. “Quincy will be there in a few minutes!” I entered and the glass door automatically closed. I looked at what should have been the living room and frowned.

Sex whips and chains

Instead of affluent sofas and tables were two round beds on them placed whips, chains, leather belts and all kinds of sex toys. In place of images of birds or people or whatever normal people hang on the wall were images of naked girls hanging upside down blood oozing from their openings. I was cold with fear. I ran back to the door to try and unlock it but it was too tight. I took my phone out to call Mary but someone snatched my phone from behind.

“Hi Carol baby” . I looked back at the voice and saw an old white man smiling at me revealing a stack of brown teeth. He had an almost bald head but what made me grimace was his hairy chest. He was only dressed in a light short. It dawned on me that there never existed any Quincy. I was trapped.

As if I had not got the scare of my life, another older,skinnier white man appeared from the stairs. This one was stark naked. He ogled at me like a piece of meal. He held two pairs of chains and duck tape in his hands. My heart beat even faster as he approached me. The first man held me tighter as the second one tied the duck tape on my mouth, then chained my hands and my legs.

The first man went to pick my ringing phone. He hang up and it seemed he wrote a short message to the caller . I had a strong feeling it was Mary. My worst fear happened when the skinnier pervert tore my dress to his delight. When the first one saw my bare bosom, he threw my phone away and ran to me. They chuckled delightfully as they undressed me or rather tore up every cloth I had despite my forceful kicks.

I wanted to die. I had had enough or so I thought but enough was not in the villains’ mind.

“Bring the whip Rex,” said the first man.

Rex giggled at the order and ran to the bed. I tried to beg him, but my mouth was shut. Whaack! The whip landed on me. I screamt at the excruciating pain and the two burst out laughing. Rex whipped, and every scream I made behind my prisoned mouth made them laugh out louder. My body was bleeding , I was sore everywhere but the imps continued to thrush me. Then there was a phone call. Their home telephone. Rex was irritated but his partner urged him to go pick it.

I wished the phone call would last forever but something even better happened. Rex came in a panic mode. He spoke to his partner in a foreign language that made him rise in exasperation. The two ran upstairs and came back later fully clothed.

There was a knock on the door. Rex answered it. I heard the voice. It was familiar. It was the watchman. Fortunately, he spoke in a language I understood.

“Boss, there is a woman at the gate who is asking for her friend,Carol. She says she will call police if she does not see her friend. “

“Is she alone?” Rex asked

“No boss, there are two men waiting for her at the car. ” The watchman said and was quickly dismissed. Rex banged the door behind him. They had a number of frantic exchanges in their language but seemed to agree on something. They came to me and picked me up like a goat being carried to be slaughtered. I had too many afflictions to resist. At that time I felt death was inevitable.

I woke up to find a big crowd surrounding me. I was in a bush. The crowd stepped back when I moved my legs. They thought I was dead. A kind woman covered my naked body with a a leso. The police had come. They had come to collect a body that had been dumped in the bush.

I could barely speak and for days, my signals were crossed. A few weeks passed for me to heal and to be able to talk to the police. By the time they were interrogating me, the foreigner perverts had disappeared from the country, the house had been sold and refurnished and the watchman was nowhere to be seen. It was to be another cold case.

Mary says I sent her texts to go back home because everything was ok. That I further told her to stop ruining my date. She obliged. She regrets thinking it was I who sent those texts. I am grateful for such a friend. I would be dead now were it not for her efforts.

I still have nightmares of that day. I have never booted up my computer since then. It gives me palpitations whenever I touch it. Thank goodness Quincy is not a common name, otherwise I would catch my breath every time I heard it mentioned. The memories will forever etch in my head. I don’t think I will ever heal but I will try. The trauma is too much but time is a healer.

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