Jack Taggart Mysteries 8-Book Bundle. Don Easton

      She could hear him muttering. A few minutes later she heard the bedroom door open and close, then he walked in and turned on a lamp. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she gawked up at him.

      He was wearing only socks, shoes, and his plastic mask. He was a thin man with wavy black hair. There was no hair on his chest and his skin was creamy white. When she saw what he was carrying in his other hand, she bit her lip and began to tremble.

      It was a leather leash attached to a choke-chain collar — the kind used to control large dogs.

      “Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch you,” he said in a quiet, soothing voice. “Let me move the hair back from your pretty face a bit.” He gently stroked her hair with his fingers.

      Marcie quivered and drew her knees tighter to her chest.

      “There, that’s a good little bitch. Sit still … that’s a girl.”

      Without warning, he slipped the chain over her head.

      “Mister? What —”

      Her words were choked off as he savagely jerked the end of the leash and wrapped a loop of it around his fist. The chain bit deep into her neck as he dragged her onto the floor.

      “Bad bitch! I told you to keep quiet!”

      He squeezed the collar tight while whipping the end of the leather leash across her body with his other hand. She twisted and turned, her legs writhing as she clawed at the chain. Her fingernails broke and the jagged remains gouged her throat as she frantically fought for air.

      The pain started to go away. She realized she was still lying on the floor and the collar had loosened. Her lungs sucked in air and she gulped it down like water. She began to sob, but the air exploded from her lungs as the toe of his shoe struck deep into her stomach.

      “You’re not at all trained, are you? You need lessons!”

      He jerked on the leash and began to walk and drag her behind him. She started to get to her feet but he yanked down on the leash, bringing her to her hands and knees.

      Her scream was cut short by a kick to the side of her rib cage. The pain tore through her chest. Each breath she took caused more pain. She stayed on her hands and knees, looking down at the floor. She opened and closed her eyes, trying to see through her tears.

       This isn’t happening! It’s my body, but it isn’t me! It’s only a dream! It has to be! He’s moving again … I have to keep up. It hurts so much to breathe … this isn’t a dream!

      “That’s right, bitch! Walk on all fours!”

      He started walking her back and forth and around the coffee table, then stopped.

      “Heel!” he said, barking out the command.

      Marcie stayed quivering on her hands and knees. He slapped her thighs with the leash and said, “On the floor!”

      Marcie sat back on her heels.

      “Keep your hands on the floor,” he snarled.

      Seconds later, he started walking again, leading her on her hands and knees.

      Marcie was breathing deeply. She could taste the dust rising from the carpet as it found its way into her eyes and down her nose and throat. Her arms and knees burned from being dragged across the rug. Then he patted the floor beside the sofa and said, “Lie down!”

      He sat on the sofa for a few minutes, only to get up and jerk her around the room on the leash again and again.

      Eventually he seemed to tire of the ritual and turned on the television. He sat on the sofa to watch. Marcie stared blankly out into the room. Her brain seemed to be turning off and on. This is all a nightmare. Wake up!

      She watched him open the paper packet on the coffee table and tap out two lines of sparkling white powder. He got down on his knees beside her and turned his back to her and slid his mask up on his head. She could hear the sound, like a pig, as he placed a finger alongside his nose and snorted the cocaine. She turned her head as his bare ass touched her face. He then pulled the mask down and turned and patted her on the head before settling back on the sofa. She sensed that he was smiling at her from behind the mask.

      She could feel the swelling in her throat and the burning sensation where the sweat running down from her head found its way into the open wounds around her neck.

      He stood up and lightly tugged on the leash. Without thinking, she got up on her hands and knees.

      “That’s a good bitch! You’re young enough to teach!”

      He walked around the room once more, then led her into the washroom. He stopped in front of the sink and poured himself a glass of water. She stared down at the tiled floor. It felt cool and soothed her bloody fingertips and the burning sensation on her knees. She could hear him swallow slowly and smack his lips.

      “You’ve been a good bitch,” he said quietly.

      His voice sounded gentle. Her mind started to come back to reality as she grasped at the hope it would soon be over. At least he hasn’t touched me…

      “Do you want a drink of water? Well, do you?”

      She sensed that to say no would make him angry. She looked up and nodded her head.

      “Okay, drink then!” He flung open the toilet lid and pointed inside.

      “No!” she replied, shaking her head.

      “You don’t tell me no! You stupid bitch!”

      The chain tightened around her neck; her fingers instinctively clawed at her throat. She kicked out with her feet as he dragged her across the floor. He didn’t loosen his grip on the collar while grabbing her hair with his other hand and shoving her head inside the toilet bowl. Down into the water … out … down again.

      Briefly, she thought the water was full of small black bugs, but realized it was only her vision clouding over. Seconds later, darkness engulfed her.

      He loosened his grip and she became conscious and blinked her eyes as water dripped from her face into the toilet bowl.

      “Drink, you bitch! I said drink!”

      She felt him grab her hair as he dunked her head into the toilet again, before letting go. She lowered her face and touched the water with her lips.

      “Lap! I want to hear you lap!” he shouted.

      She made a lapping noise with her tongue. She felt his legs on each side of her rib cage as he stood straddling her. Pain shot through her side where he had kicked her. Automatically she squeezed closer to his opposite leg.

      “Lap, you bitch!”

      A condom wrapper fell in the toilet beside her face. “No DNA for you, bitch,” he muttered. She glanced back and saw him masturbating.

      “Lap, I said!”

      She turned her head back into the bowl and felt his legs grip her body while his hand twisted and pulled on her hair. Moments later he relaxed. She could hear the sound of her own breathing in the bowl.

      Without warning he yanked on the leash, pulling her backward onto the floor.

      She scrambled on her hands and knees to keep from being choked as he half-dragged her across the hall and opened the bedroom door, hauling her inside. Then she heard him say, “Okay, Cutesy! Come here, boy, it’s your turn. Now … be a good little bitch and lick him off. Go on! Blow him!”

      For a second Marcie didn’t understand. Then she felt something cold and wet touch the back of her leg. She turned around and looked directly into the eyes of a German shepherd.

      “No! Oh, God…”

      The collar tightened, choking off her screams. She fell on her back and started kicking. The dog lunged at her, biting her fingers and then knocking her skinny arms aside