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What to do a Sunday in Barcelona

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dark, saw a dank cell with tile flooring and two steel beds
with thin mattresses.  The guards lay them each down on the bed and with a
cord tied their legs.  Stacy’s legs were drawn up to her hands and tightly
tied off.  The cord around her neck was then tied, leaving little slack to
the heavy iron railing of the bed she was hogtied onto.  Katrina received
much the same treatment, but Stacy noticed that the guard who tied her was
somewhat careless and did not tie her neck cord to the bed.
Stacy half-expected to be ungagged when the guard brushed away her
hair and looked for the buckle tightly fastened behind her neck, but when
he located it, he simply checked it to make sure that the strap was in its
keeper, and then replaced her hair.  Stacy groaned deeply in her throat.
The guards turned to go, What to do a Sunday in Barcelona and as the exited the door, they took one
last look at their prisoners.  They turned, slammed the heavy steel door
shut with a loud clang, and then slid a heavy metal bolt into place and
placed a padlock on it, locking it into place.  One rectangle of light
remained, the tray hole, and within twenty seconds this was also slammed
shut and locked.
The girls, stunned with the hopelessness if the situation, began to
weep. Less than an hour ago, they were enjoying dinner in the wilderness
with a friend of Fernando, and now they were captured by unknown parties
for unknown reasons and were extremely stringently bound and locked away.
Even Stacy, who had before enjoyed a temporary indentured status which
soon would return by contract, to freedom, was paralyzed with the
uncontrolled nature of her situation.  Her bondage now seemed far more
foreboding and permanent than the What to do a Sunday in Barcelona contractual bonds that she had assumed
for this voyage.
Her back was arched by her hogtie, and with her tears, her nose
became congested, making it necessary for her to breathe through the
corners of her mouth around her ball-gag.  Katrina wept quietly in the
other cot near Stacy.
They were left there for hours.  The tears no longer flowed after a
period of time, but the hopelessness remained.  Their hog-ties were
intractable.  Prying fingers could loose no knots, and cramps in the back
of the legs were the answer to struggle.  Knotted to the bed-frame by her
neck, Stacy did not dare move around too much, for she could see that
falling off the bed could mean death for her.
In the total darkness, What to do a Sunday in Barcelona sounds of weeping subsided, and sleep overtook
the pair in spurts, with occasional waking to the pain of the bonds and
the depression of this cruel imprisonment.
After many hours their prison door opened with a clang.  Stacy craned
her neck to see who entered.  It was Fernando, carrying a knife!  “Ten
prisa!”, he whispered sharply to Katrina.  He cut loose the rope from her
ankles, rubbed her legs to her hands, and then cut her wrist and neck
bonds.  She quickly rubbed tortured wrists, and, stumbling a little, went
to help him loose Stacy.  She did not bother to remove her own ball-gag.
They quickly knifed the thin cord around the legs of Stacy, and then
they cut the cord from Stacy’s neck to the bed frame very close to the
bed, leaving them a handle by which to lead her.  Her hands were not
loosed.  Stacy wondered about her disposition.  Was this an escape
attempt?  She supposed that it was. What to do a Sunday in Barcelona Maybe they were leaving her bound
because they did not want her to blow their escape, and maybe she was
bound because she was still contracted for it.  At any rate, she wished
that she had been freed as Katrina had.  She did not have a lot to say
about it right now.
As the two hustled her out of the dark cell, she saw a guard lying on
the floor with blood flowing from his head, and she surmised that Fernando
had prevailed over him.  After several turns, they ran into another guard,
and Fernando quickly dispatched him with his knife.  Stacy’s heart was
racing with the danger, but she was dragged and pushed through a door to
the outside. What to do a Sunday in Barcelona The jeep that they had arrived in was outside, and the key
was in it.  Fernando motioned that Katrina should put Stacy in the front
seat, and as he ran around to he driver’s seat, he threw her a length of
rope.  Fernando started the jeep as Katrina, still gagged herself,
forcefully tied off Stacy’s ankles, and moved into the backseat.
Stacy looked into the backseat as Fernando drove wildly off, with no
pursuit to see Katrina struggling with the strap on her ball gag, and
having very little success.  Fernando also looked back and asked, “Esta’
cerrado con llave?”
Katrina, What to do a Sunday in Barcelona bouncing back and forth in the backseat

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