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Sindy foolishly accepts a challenge from her friends.

He whimpered through his gag as Beth's teeth approached his neck for the third and final time. The 'honor' of the idea of giving your life to an immortal was far more romantic than the act itself.

While Beth finished off her meal, Trevor hauled Cindy's limp body to the center of the room and wrapped her wrists in rope. He hung the rope on a hook attached to a chain that reached to a pulley. He cinched the rope up near the high ceiling, leaving the toes of Cindy's shoes dragging the floor. She woke in agony, her head throbbing in beat with her wrists and shoulders. When she started to moan, Trevor began stroking her hair.

Slowly, as she came to, Cindy realized she was unable to move. Her broken wrist screamed against the bindings. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg for mercy, for her life. But, she had decided in the alley, she would be different. She would show these monsters no fear, no pain, nothing. If it didn't save her life, at least she'd die knowing she hadn't given in.

Cindy's eyes had trouble focusing in the dark warehouse. Naturally, she jumped as Trevor ran his hand down her face and traced his fingers along her neck. His hand fell to her side, and he followed her natural curves back around to her ass. He grabbed her ass firmly before smacking it. Once. Twice. And again. Then he gently traced his fingers around her waist, up her side, and back to her throat.

"My God, you are gorgeous. I am going to take my time with you."

Summoning all her strength, she clenched her mouth shut and whispered, "It's your funeral, asshole."

Cindy tried to sound strong as she forced her face to conform; her brow furrowed and her lips firm as her nostrils flared.

"I already had one," he chuckled, "but thanks."

Cindy wanted to be different than the other women. Maybe if she was different, she reasoned, she wouldn't end up as the other woman on the news. Trevor ran his fingers through her chestnut hair, pulling a few strands forward so they fell upon her surging breasts. As he followed the strands down, his cool, dead fingers grazed her black tank top dangling on her shoulder.

"Why bother to wear this?" he asked, sliding his hand between her shirt and bra. He caressed the material, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers. Meanwhile, the back of his hand absentmindedly stroked her left nipple, forcing an involuntary solidifying effect. Cindy concentrated on keeping her face hard, determined, and fearless.

"It seems so pointless..." he sighed as he casually ripped the garment off of her.

Caught off-guard, Cindy inhaled sharply before resuming her 'go-to-hell' face. A glimpse of the tank top lying on the ground a few feet away caused a distinctive chill to creep swiftly up Cindy's spine. She remembered the party after her senior Homecoming dance. After a night of drinking and Special K, 'Captain America' -- the Homecoming King who'd led the 'Mustangs' team to a vigorous victory over their longtime 'Bulldog' rivals -- craved more physical intimacy than Cindy was prepared for that night. For a few moments, her high school sweetheart transformed into a groping asshole; and for those few moments, she'd actually been concerned about his aggressiveness.

Cindy had gone home alone though, and he'd screwed a cheerleader. It wasn't the first time 'Captain America' has slept with another girl. The girls didn't want to admit they'd been used for sex. Since her boyfriend was sweet and patient with her, Cindy was fine with that arrangement. -- As dysfunctional as it may have been, she had the title of the star football player's girlfriend. She received gifts, went to parties, and was never forced to be known as 'the virgin who was waiting for marriage,' which would have been social suicide. It was only during that couple of minutes of their 'relationship' that she'd felt pressure to 'put out.' At the time, the chill that ran up her spine, made the hair on her arms stand up, and left her speechless, had been fleeting.

After tossing Cindy's shirt aside, Trevor ran h

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