Going Bush

A sudden loud crack echoed through the room, making Taylor almost jump out of his skin.
“Very skittish,” Carlie chuckled, continuing on with her earlier statement, “I say we tie this rabbit down.”
“Wait!” Taylor insisted, backing up even further before hitting the headrest and hearing the chains rattle behind him.
“I agree,” the blonde nodded, “if he’s on death row we don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“So I don’t get any say in this whatsoever?” Taylor had to make sure.
“Let’s see…” the blonde tapped her chin patiently, “…no.”
Taylor had already sighted the whip in Carlie’s hand, so he knew her direction was out of the question. If he could just get the keys to the door…
“Why?” he attempted to keep conversation going so he had more time to think.
“Because you know exactly what we want, and we know you’re not willing to give it,” the blonde raised an eyebrow, before reaching over to take hold of a chained cuff.
While she was momentarily distracted, Taylor darted out from under her heading for the other side of the room. A sickening crack was heard before he felt a stabbing pain in his right arm and yelled out, soon registering the thick leather wrapped around it as Carlie spun the whip to tighten it.
“And where did you think you were going?” the blonde scowled, making her way over as Taylor fell down onto one knee and then sat back against the wall.
“The door’s locked anyway,” Carlie shrugged.
“Anywhere but there,” he replied sullenly, annoyed to find himself starting to shake.
The blonde knelt down and carefully uncoiled the whip from his arm, being careful around where it had been cut from the strike.
“I really wouldn’t think you’d have such a problem with this,” she sighed, “it might be your last chance to have some fun after all.”
“This isn’t fun,” Taylor scorned, refusing to look at her.
“Because you’re not letting it. Now come on,” she insisted, pulling him up from the ground.
She took him back over to the bed, and this time Carlie helped her by taking hold of him as she readied the chains.
In looking Carlie over, Taylor was sure he easily could have overpowered her at any other time. Unfortunately he was lacking in the energy department due to not sleeping or eating since the whole ordeal started, and it was out of the question.
He dare not close his eyes as his wrists were secured above his head, the chains only loose enough to create the illusion that he could get out of them, before Carlie moved around to secure his feet and the blonde climbed onto the bed with him.
“You’re actually quite attractive when you’re not covered in dirt and blood,” she almost giggled, lowering herself down to his chest.
He just gulped and said nothing, wanting badly to close his eyes but not trusting her enough to.
“There’s not an unusual scar on you. I guess your wife isn’t into blood play, huh?”
“What?!” he couldn’t help but exclaim, looking up now even with the effort it took to.
“Settle,” she patted him on the cheek, before pulling out what looked like a decorative pocketknife.
And then finally, Taylor did close his eyes. Determinedly.