Free Survivor: 1 by J. F. Gonzalez

the
room, testing the new contraption that would keep her
prisoner in this room. The shackles around her ankles
were barely a foot apart and forced her to shamble along
like a prison inmate. She stumbled as she tested the limits
of it. Mr. Smith reached out to help her up. "Whoa, watch
out there! I can't lengthen the chain on the cuffs down
there. Wouldn't want you trying to kick me or Animal."
"
    Lisa glared at Mr. Smith but said nothing. "How far can
I move in this thing?"
    *Let's head to the bathroom and find out" He held his
arm out, as if escorting her like a gentleman. He led her
to a door she had barely noticed before that was set
against the wall. He opened the door, and she saw that it
was a small bathroom, complete with a tub and a sink.
Lisa walked into the bathroom. "Can you sit down at the
john? Let's try it"
    Lisa turned around and sat her naked buttocks on the
lid of the toilet. The payout of the line attached to the pulley grew taut. Mr. Smith smiled. "Wonderful! Just like I
thought. You have enough line to reach the toilet, which means you probably have four feet beyond the bedroom
door and that's it. I'll board up the window to keep you
from smashing it and trying to escape, but then I've got
you pretty well trussed up"

    Lisa looked at Mr. Smith, feeling defeated and beaten.
She had been doing some thinking last night and resolved herself to not even try to plead with him. He had
told her last night that it wasn't personal, he was only doing this for the money. He had picked her up because
she was what his unknown clients were looking for to be
the star of a snuff film. She had been thinking about that
last night, and while the implications of what was going
to happen to her were petrifying, she had a thousand
questions to ask him. She had been debating on whether
to try to draw him into some sort of conversation. Part of
her felt that she needed the human contact of conversation to keep from going crazy, while another part of her
held the dim hope that perhaps if she evoked enough
compassion in him, Mr, Smith would let her go. She seriously doubted that, but it was worth a try.
    "How did you get into what you're doing?" She asked
him, her voice submissive but not pleading. "You
know ... the whole snuff film thing."
"-
    Mr. Smith shrugged as he worked at the window. He
had gone into the living room and come back with several five-by-twelve pieces of wood, which he proceeded
to erect across the window and nail to the wall, boarding
it up. "I never really got into it. It's just something I do for
money."
    *But you had to fall into it somehow."
    Mr. Smith turned to her. "Why do you want to know?"
    Lisa shrugged. "I figure as long as I'm going to ... you
know.-.. I might as well know more about it!
    Mr. Smith turned back to the window and continued boarding it up. "I admire that. You'd rather face up to
things than run away from them. I like that."
"

    Except for the pounding of nails as Mr. Smith boarded
up the window, there was silence for a moment.
    *1 was a producer for a while," he said, finishing up the
window. "I produced a lot of hardcore porn back in the
seventies. That's how I met Al, one of the guys you'll meet
later. He's a director. He shot a bunch of films for me. I
specialized in a lot of extreme hardcore S&M and bizarre
shit-golden showers, fisting, bestiality, blood sports,
scat films, rape films, a lot of kiddie porn-you name it. I
had an audience that ate that shit up"
    Lisa listened, feeling disgusted with Mr. Smith. He
looked, acted, and sounded like the stereotypical pervert. Middle-aged, balding, overweight, glasses, small
beady eyes. It was easy to picture him sitting his girth on
a director's chair, pulling his pants down, and telling the
naive teenage giggleboxes who came to Hollywood with
dreams in their eyes that, sure they could have a part in
his film, but first they had to get down on their knees and
show him how much they