Chapter 4

Early morning hours, December 22 (continued)

When Jordy stirred in his office chair, the music was still playing. The swirl of colors was still rotating on his screen. And, looking at it momentarily, he thought, 'What's happening to me?'

sleep

And then his mind floated away again.

By the time Jordy woke up that day, his mother and father had already both left, his mother to work at the Italian restaurant down the block, his father to do whatever he did with himself to earn a little bit of money for them... mostly casual labor, paid in cash. When sober, his father could be quite responsible, and had in the past held regular jobs for up to six months. But he couldn't stand being completely sober for any length of time, and so he picked up what work he could, wherever and whenever he could, until the bottled called his name his name again, and he disappeared into other neighborhoods to wrestle with his demons. 'At least he doesn't embarrass us too often at home, ' Jordy thought, remembering again what his father had told him so many times in the past: "Don't shit in your own backyard."

Except... now Jordy had done exactly that, hadn't he? As much as he wanted to punish his sister for what she'd done, as angry as he'd been last night... in the bright sunshine of the morning after, what he had done nagged at his conscience, as he replayed the scene over and over in his mind. It didn't matter as much anymore that he had caught his sister in the act of stealing. He had, at the very least, assaulted her... and held her against her will for part of the day in a locked building. 'Assault and kidnapping, ' he thought to himself, 'and the day isn't half over. What next?'

Even as he pondered that question, he gathered a few things he knew he would need to bring with him when he visited the shed today. He took the water jug he carried with him when working during the day and filled it from the tap. To that he added some of his mother's homemade cornbread from the refrigerator, with a dab of butter; a washcloth from the sink; some rubbing alcohol from the medicine cabinet; and... a book... something to focus on while the rest of his brain contemplated what to do.

He left a note for his mother saying that he was going to work on what was left of his tomatoes, then go to the library for the rest of the day. A perfectly normal summer day for him, it would raise no alarms with either of his parents. He also wrote a note to post near the front door of the building, saying that the shed key had been misplaced, and that it would be locked until the super got back Wednesday, or until Jordy found the key. Given the heat of the day, and the age of most of the people who used the garden, he figured no one would even come outside once they read the note, giving him two things he needed... privacy, and just a little time.

And then he went to see his sister.

Big city afternoons in August seem to bring inanimate objects to life. The shimmer of heat from the pavement makes the street seems to move with its own rhythm; the air, thick and heavy, seemed to gain a substance that made movement difficult, leaden... slow. Only children, with the aid of a fire hydrant or water sprinkler, seemed to be able to cut through the air without feeling winded and weary. So Jordy had the side of the building to himself as he walked back to the shed, the rest of his small world searching for some cooler alternative, perhaps in front of a fan, or in a small bit of shade.

As he opened the door to the shed, a wave of damp, earthy air rolled out. To some, the scent would be unnatural, after being raised on the smell of car exhaust and rotting garbage and concrete. To Jordy, it smelled just right, clean and purposeful... it smelled like growth, or the potential for growth. He smiled to himself, thinking himself to be the oddest of ducks... the city boy with dirt under his nails, and a yen to make good things come from small packages. Until someone came along and tried to take away what he had achieved...

As he closed the door behind him, Jordy heard the tarp rustle, a slight movement that indicated that his sister was at least conscious. The shed itself did not seem too hot, but then, he was accustomed to working in the heat, and she spent most her time indoors, sleeping away the days, and doing whatever it was she did until daybreak, when she came home and dropped right to sleep again.

Putting his makeshift bundle on the worktable beside the door, he moved over to where his sister had lay during the night and removed the plastic sheet. That she had tried to break her bonds was obvious, as she lay awkwardly on her side instead of on her stomach; apparently she had tried to roll around for a time, then, becoming more and more exhausted from her efforts, she had simply found the position which hurt the least, and then stopped moving. Streaked with dirt and sweat and tears, she was a mess from head to toe, a thought that Jordy's desire for her punishment found vaguely comforting.

They regarded each other quietly; Jordy looked down on her with a slight frown, his brow wrinkling with the thought of what he should do next. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with anger, replaced a moment later with a wide-eyed look of pain. Jerking her legs frantically, she began to writhe on the big bags of dirt.

'Cramp, ' Jordy thought, grabbing his pocketknife and cutting the twine binding her wrists and ankles together. "Hold still," he said to Sarah, "and point your toes."

Not knowing if it was her calves or the back of her thigh, Jordy began kneading the knotted muscles in both her legs, pushing his thumbs deep into the tissue where the cramps might be. At first Sarah resisted, trying to pull away from his hands, twisting her lower body hard. But, as Jordy persisted in his massage, her resistance started to melt. For the first time in hours, a part of her body actually started to feel less pain; as Jordy's hands worked up and down the backs of her legs, she started flexing her feet, feeling the cramps loosen and the pain start to fade. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of relief wash over her... until Jordy removed his hands and once again stood over her, silently considering what to do.

He knew that he needed to untie her, at least for a little while, to let some circulation come back into hands and feet. He also knew that he needed to find some way to restrain her afterward, before she could try to clout him and make her escape. He looked around the shed, trying to find something he could use to keep her from making a run for it until he was ready to let her go. Once again, his eyes fell upon something that suited his needs perfectly, and he smiled to himself, thinking how perfect it was.

Until about a year ago, the super of the building had owned a pet bulldog... Harold, a big brute of a canine that looked fierce and growled menacingly at all who dared visit his owner's apartment. Until, of course, you fed him a hot dog, as Jordy had done several times, and he became your best friend for life.

Harold had died late last year, basically from old age. The super had not been seen for a week afterward, refusing to come out of his apartment, even when the pipes burst in a fifth floor bathroom, flooding the apartment below it. Instead, he remained in his apartment until his grief had passed enough that he could walk though the halls of the building being cranky and intimidating, as opposed to cranky and liable to fall to pieces. Once, in a fit of drunken melancholy, he had thrown Harold's collar and leash at Jordy, telling him that he could no longer stand to look at either item, and to get rid of them permanently.

However, being perfectly useful items that someday might come in handy, Jordy had brought the leash and collar to the shed. Where the set had remained, untouched, hanging from a nail on the shed's sidewall. And now, Jordy knew that he had been right in not throwing the duo away.

Moving quickly while Sarah was still on her stomach, Jordy pulled the chain and leash from the wall, then went to where his sister lay and, straddling her, sat on her. He sat gently, not really wanting to risk twisting or tearing something in her arms, which he pinned between his legs; or, worse, having her choke or stop breathing as his weight pressed the air from her lungs. Sarah squirmed a little when he sat on her, but she could offer only token resistance after her night in bondage. When she stopped moving and laid her head on the sacks in silent defeat, Jordy felt something stir within himself... or, more specifically, his cock, which twitched at the feel of having his sister helpless and unresisting beneath him.

Reaching out a hand, he stroked her hair like the owner of a frightened pet, trying to calm her nerves. "I'm going to cut the twine here in just a bit, and let you get some feeling back in your legs and arms. But I can't take the chance you might try to do something to me once you're free, so I'm going to tie you differently. If you fight me, I'm just going to let you lie here, and the next time you cramp up, I'm not going to help you. Cooperate, and I'll let you have a nice long drink of water."

Sarah didn't move or make a sound, and Jordy wondered whether she was thinking about what he'd said, or planning some way to overcome him when he cut her loose. Either way, she was taking her time, and time was a resource of which Jordy was disquietingly unsure.

He stopped stroking her hair, and instead began gathering it his hand, until he held it all loosely in his closed fist. Then, without warning, he began to pull.

As her head started to come back toward him, he said quietly, "Don't think about running away. Don't think about anything except doing what I tell you. If you don't, you're going to very, very thirsty soon."

She didn't resist the pull on her hair, and let her head be pulled back as far Jordy wanted to take it, her only response being to close her eyes... and to very, very slightly undulate her hips. Sitting as he was, Jordy could not help but feel the motion between his legs, and that made his cock even more excited.

Continuing to pull her hair, he managed to get Sarah onto her knees; letting go of her hair for a moment, he grasped her around her waist and pulled her into a kneeling position, ass on legs, back to him. It took only a few seconds to lift up her hair, fasten the dog collar around her neck, and then resume his grasp on her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I'm going to lift you slightly; when I do, I want you to swing your legs forward so you can sit normally." And, when he did lift her, Sarah managed to get her legs unfolded and in front of her, though she cried in pain from not having the use of her muscles during the time she'd been in the shed.

Having gotten her legs facing the way he wanted, Jordy turned his sister so that her back was against the wall of the shed. Then, wrapping the chain leash around her neck twice, he slid the leather handle at the end of the leash through a hole in one of the support beams, pulling until there was no play in the chain. Sarah sat against the side of the shed, her head against the boards; the chain, wrapped tightly around the leather of the collar, kept her pinned against the wood. Jordy then tied the chain off by wrapping it around another beam and hooking the handle onto a nail in the sidewall. Until Jordy released her, the girl would sit pinned against the wall, knowing that if he pulled the chain a little tighter, she would begin to choke; as it was, the dog collar only protected her throat a little, and she felt restricted from taking really deep breaths by the pressure around her neck.

Jordy pulled his pocketknife out again, and Sarah watched it with wary eyes. Leaning over her, Jordy put the knife behind her back and slowly cut away the twine that was holding her wrists together. Then, gently sawing on the twine wrapped around her head, he parted those bonds and pulled them away from her face. Then, saying nothing, he stepped back and sat down on a short stool to watch her.