Some minutes later, (Tyler didn’t know how many or really care) a young girl with dark brown hair and braided pigtails came into the room. She was alone. Tyler knew she wasn’t Mikayla or that leader, Sydney. He watched her slowly come up to him. She looked scared...no, frightened...no, petrified...of him? He wasn’t entirely sure.

This had to be the “Lillian”. She looked harmless and rather...adorable. He wondered how old she was. She seemed to be young...maybe 17 or 18 at most.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing her sundress out. “Oh, what have they done to you, Marchy?”

He leaned his head back into the pillow. She reached a hand out and brushed his cheek, gently. Her hands were soft to the touch, almost like being caressed by a cloud. She ran the tips of her fingers over the edges of the adhesive and then dragged them across his trapped lips beneath.

“I’ve never touched a man before,” she whispered.

Her voice soothed Tyler, as he watched her carefully and closely. After a few moments of her “checking his face out” with her fingers, she slowly peeled the tape strands away.

“I’m sorry about this. I really am. But you look so hot tied up like this…” she trailed off, speechless at his helpless appearance.

She put the tape on the table and gradually removed the towel gag from him, placing it with the tape. He was in shock that he just stared at her, not speaking. He flinched and tensed up as she set her hand on his cheek once more.

“Oh, oh, you’re so scared. Mickey and Syd didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Tyler shook his head, unable to speak still. He watched as she reached to the side of her and took something out from something beside her. She held her hand up with a syringe-looking object. He immediately panicked, his eyes going wide open. It was all a facade! She was diabolical! She was just like Bernadette from the Big Bang Theory, sweet and innocent but tough as hell.

“Don’t worry, Tyler.”

She cradled his head, holding it still in her hands.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone anything. I promise.”

Her hand slid up the side of his face and her index finger rested over his lips, silencing him. “Tyler, I don’t want to do this, but you do look so damn hot tied up like this. I’m just going to give you a little something to help with any pain that will ensue...okay?”

Tyler shook his head. “Please, please.” He begged her over and over, but she reached over, pinning him in a still pose and with a little muster of strength, jammed the needle of the syringe into his skin and pushed down on the tube. The liquid inside shot inside of him and he violently jerked against the tape, managing to rip the tape bonds.

He sat up, as she drew back. She jumped to her feet, as he sat up and went to release himself from the ropes holding his ankles. He didn’t get very far.

“MICKEY!!” Lillian screamed.

Not even more than a second later, the wicked middle girl bolted into the room and swung… his hockey stick over his head!? He fell back on the bed, blacking out at once. She pulled the knot of his left ankle tight once more. Then she stormed back out, as his eyes fluttered shut.  

Tyler finally blinked awake. He raised his head up and moaned, “What the hell?”

Lillian let one end of the silk (not “rope”) run through her hand. Her friends Mikayla and Sydney had locked her in the room with him, so that she could fulfill her desires. They said they would give her two hours, before they came back and carried out their plan for him. She knew what that was going to be. She was about to untie it so Tyler would never know, but suddenly he opened his eyes and blinked up at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. It’s fine, Tyler. Everything’s fine. I have someone coming this morning who’s interested in seeing you play. My hockey friend. You know, I said he could help you out.”

“I don’t want help. I don’t need help. I’m a professional athlete, who’s going to be in the NHL and I’m leaving.” He struggled, pulling at the bonds, which of course only tightened them. His wrists reddened in color. “Let me go. I want to go now.”

“Please don’t, Tyler. Don’t say you want to go. It upsets me.”

“But you’ve tied me up!”

“It was just a little game.” Lillian stood up.

“I just want you to let me go. This is madness. Madness!”

Lillian sat down on the bed, stroking the hair off his damp forehead, which was covered with sweat from his nerves.

He was quiet for a bit, as he searched her face. Then he said, “I think you’re going a bit too far.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tying me up! Locking me in! You could just tell me to stay here. I won’t tell anyone, not even Wilson, that I know about it. Honest.”

“No!”

Lillian remembered the picture and videos she’d seen and she wanted to savor every second she had with the future Blackhawk. She wasn’t sure when they were going to let him go, either. It was all spur of the moment. She wanted him to be relaxed and happy, not anxious like this.

“Come on, talk to me Tyler.”

After a pause, he let his head fall back against the pillows. “Can you bring me my hockey stick?”

“I’ll bring it!”

“But I need my hands free. What if I need to – you know ----“

She looked at him, spread-eagled on the iron bed. He couldn’t go anywhere with his ankle wrapped like that.

“I’ll take these silly scarves off then, if you promise not to try anything daft, like you did yesterday.”

“No. No. I promise.” He said it as if he was weary with playing the game, but knew it was in his best interests to continue.

They smiled at each other and she untied the knots slowly, watching the male athlete all the time. She ran her thumb over the red welts the scarves had left on his wrists. “I haven’t hurt you, have I? I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tyler.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, as she pulled the silk away. “No, it’s okay. That’s better. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Tyler.”

“My hockey stick?”

“Oh yes, right?”

As she moved to get up and go grab it, he lunged forward and embraced her in a bear-hug. She angrily elbowed him in the side, making him fall backward onto the bed. Suddenly a foreign feeling entered her body, as she spun around.

“Nice try Marchand!” she spat.

She shoved him back on the bed and punished him with a long, sloppy kiss, before she drew back and wrenched his arms behind his back and bound them together. He struggled, grunting with helplessness as half his body dangled over the edge of the bed.

She brought her hand back and spanked him a few times. Each time a little harder. When she was done, she furiously flipped him over and let him lay on the bed on top of his hands. He stared wide-eyed at her, with those blue, blue eyes of his. He wouldn’t speak.

“Is this the only way you can think of, to show me, you’re upset that I’ve put you in here?” she asked. He still wouldn’t reply.

“I didn’t want to do it, believe me. But I’ve got people in the house who won’t be happy you’re staying. I had to hide you for your own good.”

She had lit a candle and was looking at him by its wavering light. She was dismayed. Something had changed. Tyler Marchand’ face was white and pasty looking, as it was in her dream. His skin was faintly moist. She felt a rush of anger and she was not even sure who it was for. Tyler for losing his vitality? Sydney and Mikayla for forcing her to do this to him? Or for someone – something – else?

Lillian sat on the bed and poured Tyler some water and offered it to him. But he turned his head aside and refused to drink it. It was the first time, since Sunday, that he’d been so uncooperative.

“Tyler, we both dislike this situation, but we have to make do. It won’t be for long. I promise.”

He took a deep breath and spat at her, not once, but again and again. It was so unexpected and so violent she had no time to duck. Saliva ran down her cheek and she wiped it off with the sleeve of her jersey.

“That wasn’t necessary,” she said. “I’ve come out here in the middle of the night to make sure that you are okay, not cold or frightened. That’s the reason, the only reason, I’m here, Tyler, to look after you. Don’t bite the hand that feed you.”

He didn’t reply.

Lillian sat down on the bed next to him, stroking his damp hair away from his forehead to show that there were no ill feelings, after his outburst, even though it was hurtful.

He flinched from her touch.

“If you’re not going to talk to me, if you won’t even tell me what’s wrong, I don’t see how you can expect me to help you,” she said.

She felt gripped, not by the fury this time, but by hopelessness, frustration, at the thought that she must keep Tyler like this. It was not how she wanted it to be. She never wanted to make this into something unpleasant. Neither did she want him to think bad things about her. But she had been talked into it and it was going to happen whether she was apart of it or not. All she could do was play along and hope Tyler was strong enough to survive this. And to think that she should wish him any harm. That wasn’t how it was. It wasn’t how Lillian Johnson was.

“Everything’s going to be okay, you know,” she said. “Everything’s going to be lovely. We just need to get through this bit.”

“You are taking my home?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was. But you know that isn’t possible, the way things are. You said yourself it would be difficult to explain things to everyone. I thought about what you said, and you were right. It would have been impossible.”

“Wilson and the others have no idea where I am, do they? You lied to them.”

“I never told a lie, Tyler. If you remember, it was your idea!”

He started to writhe, tugging at the duct-tape bonds. “Why am I tied up? And locked in? Where am I?”

“Sshh. It will be okay.” She paused, waiting for him to calm down. “I’m forced to keep you in undesirable conditions. But it’s not for long.” She looked to see if her words were reaching him at all.

He stopped struggling and stared at her with a doubtful expression, wanting to believe, but not quite allowing himself to.

“I promise, Tyler.”

The cold in the garage made your bones ache. It was worse than Lillian had anticipated. Even under his duvet, with the blankets and his long sleeved hockey jersey, Tyler was shivering. Though she was wearing her own Boston Blackhawks jersey and boots over her jeans, she too was unable to keep her teeth from chattering together. Her lips were so numb that it was hard to get words out. She had to do something. She wasn’t going to let Tyler Marchand fall ill or freeze to death.

“Think of this as a little adventure, like camping in the woods. I’ll bring you anything, you know that. You only have to ask. Look, I’ve put the stick – your hockey stick – there for you. And there’s a torch if you need light to see by.”

“How am I supposed to play, when you keep my wrists strapped up with this…what is it? Vinyl tape?”

“I didn’t want to restrain you, believe me. I was worried if you woke up and panicked, you might hurt yourself trying to do something silly. I’ll cut the bonds off soon if you’re good. I’d like to keep them off, so you can play around with the hockey stick and keep your skills sharp, Tyler.” 

She told him that she would unleash one of his hands now, so that he could take a drink. She snipped the tape with the kitchen scissors, she had brought in her pocket. She put the glass of water to his lips. That’s when he started to be difficult again.

He swiped the glass from her and it smashed against the bedpost. She could see by the state he had gotten himself into that he was going for her, even from his sitting position. He had managed to keep a shard of glass in his fist somehow, and as she backed away, he lurched off the bed toward her. She swiveled away from his hand, but he caught her on the wrist with the glass shard and dragged it, producing a long line of pinpricks in her skin. 

Lucky for her, he was still weak from the drugs, and with his feet and one hand still strapped to the bedposts, he couldn’t move far. She took advantage of this to push him back down. She kneeled on him, pinning him down. He cried and tried to lash out again, with his one free hand, but she guessed it had lost feeling in the cold and he hadn’t much strength. She grasped his hand and twisted it. He yelped as she ripped strips of the duct-tape from the roll in her bag and fastened his wrist tightly to the bed frame again. 

Lillian stood and looked down at him. Sydney and Mikayla often frightened her; they often threatened to abandon her. And they could be rough. But they would never have gone for her the way Tyler just did. She swallowed. 

“Tyler, believe me, I don’t want to have you tied up like this. I’d much rather watch you move, fool around, playing with your hockey stick and batting a puck back and forth in the blade. But what you did just then was hurtful. Bad Marchy!”

She waited a bit and when she saw he wasn’t going to reply, she spoke to the silence.   

“Everything I do is for your own good,” she said. The young woman took the scarf from the crack under the window and reluctantly she tied it tightly around his mouth. “For your own good.”

She left him, helpless, as her friends entered holding various objects in their hands. They shoved her out of the room and locked the door behind them. Lillian leaned against the door, listening to the terrified shrieks of the man she loved. She would never wish this on him, but it made her feel weird inside. It was strangely satisfying and…..sexy.

Oh how she was torn up about what and how she felt inside. Part of her wanted to run to the rescue and let him go, but the other half, which was winning, wanted him to remain tied up and vulnerable to their desires.