Day 12 snow snow snow and a disappearance

We got some heavy snows today! Flurries my ass. It was suppose to be an exhausting day with errands, but everything was cancelled because of the crap road conditions. Fine by me. I got enough of that walking to the gym today. Yes I fell off something. Leg press this time. I fell between the crack of the seat and the foot-board. I'm so good at this guys.

Day 12: The missing software engineer

This has got to be a set-up. Can't be real. It's a fucking movie scene here. 

The man's dark hair was damp and matted, his skin sweaty and, in several places, marked by long red whip marks. He licked his dry lips uselessly and sagged against the bindings holding him up against a post. He felt drained, exhausted after what he had just been through. Unbidden, his gaze flickered to the guilty-looking laptop bag in the corner of the darkened room. His work was in there, countless encoded and secretive documents for the military contractor company he worked at. As per terms of the work agreement, he kept quiet about what he did. It wasn't like he had that much to give away to the lay person anyway, as software designs were only part of a very large plan that went into designing any weaponry. 

Standing in a sunny, well-furbished office, director John Caines worried. His head software engineer, Blake Michaels, had gone missing. No sick call, no car-broke-down excuse. A normal director might think a family emergency, or perhaps the man's phone had died. Caines worried that this was an attack. They didn't program the newest shooter game or antivirus software here, after all. And they were just on the verge of pushing out a new, very secretive and very very effective weapon design. 

Perhaps it was the Russians. They seemed to be making a bid for a superpower again. Perhaps China, though they had their own elite programming teams. North Korea? Caines doubted they'd be able to kidnap a turnip from his garden. Then who?

 The heavy door opened, letting in a flood of light. Blake raised his head heavily to hear heels click-clacking towards him. It was her, back again. He felt his body reacting to the memory of her tantalizing him with her whip. 

"Back already?" he croaked, then sighed in reprieve as she offered a glass of water to him. When he finished, she splashed the rest on him.

"That should keep you going for a while longer." 

Blake shivered at her well-manicured finger nails. They traced a pattern down his bare back, then circled around his waist to grab his crotch. He let a moan of desire escape him. This was his favourite game.

"Now then, I'm going to let you down, and you're going to come to the bed. Then you're going to make me come. Over and over again." 

Blake could go with those instructions. When his hands were at last released, he hurriedly went to the bed where his wife Ashley stretched out, still dressed in the black leather dominatrix costume he bought her. While busily undoing her corset, he gazed at his briefcase again. Work could wait.