The Challenge

She shivered. She told herself that it was due to the cool night air in the warehouse but really, deep down she knew it wasn’t that cold. She was afraid.

She tried to rub the side of her head against her arms in an attempt to dislodge the blindfold. She felt certain that if she could just see where she was and what Guerrero was up to she would be able to endure whatever he planned to do and maybe even feel some measure of control over the situation. Unfortunately the blindfold wouldn’t budge. Guerrero had of course anticipated that she would try and dislodge it and had tied it too tightly for her to move it even a fraction of an inch.

Ilsa let out an involuntary cry of frustration and was shocked to hear how loud it sounded in the silence of the warehouse. She listened intently for a minute or two, hoping to hear some kind of response from Guerrero, but she heard nothing, not even a smug grunt of amusement at her predicament.

The panic was really starting to rise in her now and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out again. She tried to focus on something she could control, her breathing. For a minute or two it seemed to work as she tried to concentrate on some breathing exercises she dimly remembered from an old yoga class. It didn’t help her relax much but it did seem to keep the panic and despair at bay.

Her fragile inner calm was obliterated instantly when she heard something large and metallic fall to the concrete floor of the warehouse. Her body tensed as she held her breath, straining to hear some kind of clue as to what had caused the noise. There was nothing, not even the sound of her own breathing now.

She let out the breath that she’d been holding in a slow sigh and tried to resume her yoga breathing technique but found that the strain of holding her breath had made her breathing too irregular. Suddenly she found she had lost control of the one thing that had provided her with some measure of comfort. She couldn’t seem to find any natural rhythm with which to breathe. She tried to slow her breathing but found that made her feel suffocated. She sped it up and then found she was in danger of hyperventilating.

The panic rose on a tide of despair that threatened to drown her completely when suddenly her ears picked up the sound of slow deliberate footsteps approaching. She actually felt gratitude when Guerrero spoke.

“That was lesson one of the demonstration, Ilsa. Anticipation.” She thought she detected a note of amusement in his voice but decided she would not rise to the bait. “How long do you think I left you hanging there alone in the dark?”

Ilsa considered her answer carefully before she replied. She knew that her perception of the passage of time would be distorted by her emotions so although to her it felt like she had been hanging there alone for hours in reality it would be significantly less.

“Forty-five minutes. An hour maybe?” Ilsa hoped to impress him with the accuracy of her wild guess but her words were met with a chuckle.

“Not even close.” Guerrero said. “It was exactly seven minutes. Not a second more.”

“Well then congratulations are in order Mr Guerrero.” She tried to sound impressed but authoritative. “This has been a most effective display of your interrogation technique.”

“As I said, Ilsa, that was only lesson one. You still have a lot to learn.”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t really expected Guerrero to free her so quickly when she was still so defenceless but a small ray of hope had persisted until his words snuffed it out. She felt an anguished sob caught in her throat and was on the verge of letting it out and begging for Guerrero’s forgiveness when she heard the sound of a cell phone ringing.

She smiled with relief. Someone had noticed her disappearance and would surely be looking for her. The thought didn’t offer her comfort for long though. Guerrero clamped his hand over her still smiling mouth before answering the call.

“This is Guerrero.”

There was the muffled sound of someone speaking on the other end of the line but it wasn’t loud enough or clear enough for Ilsa to be able to make out what was being said and by whom.

“Yeah, that was me. I’ve got her safe and sound, don’t sweat it dude.”

She heard him end the call whilst the other person was till talking.

“Winston is such an old woman. He knows you’re safe now though.”

Guerrero removed his hand from her mouth.

“He will be looking for me! They all will!”

“Let’em look. Not even Chance knows about this place.”

Ilsa fought back tears of frustration, grateful that at least the blindfold concealed her eyes.

“I made you a promise Ilsa. I said I would hurt you but not damage you. Your next lesson will be to learn the difference between the two.”

Without even waiting for Ilsa to acknowledge what he had just said, Guerrero took one of Ilsa’s nipples between his finger and thumb and pinched it hard. She cried out in surprise and pain but he didn’t release it. Her nipple grew somewhat accustomed to the painful sensation and her other nipple hardened in sympathy and she was shocked to feel a tantalising flutter deep in her abdomen. Suddenly Guerrero increased the pressure and she cried out again but the strong, calloused fingers kept pinching harder and harder.

“Please stop!” Ilsa gasped. “It hurts! It’s too much! Guerrero, please stop!”

At the sound of his name he released her and laughed.

“I hope our lives never depend on you being able to keep your mouth shut whilst you’re being tortured Ilsa. But at least you’ve learned the first part of this lesson.”

She heard Guerrero walk away in the direction of the car and heard what she thought was the sound of him opening a toolbox. She began to sob quietly as every sordid little rumour she’d ever heard about Guerrero flashed through her mind. Mostly what she’d heard lacked in the specifics of how he’d injured or killed his victims but her suddenly vivid imagination easily filled in the details for her.

She didn’t hear him approach this time. She was made aware of his proximity by his subtle scent, a mixture of guns, cars and just a hint of cologne mixed in with the feint lingering smell on his breath of whatever meat had been in his sandwich.

She gasped as she felt the chill of something metallic gently pinch the nipple that was still hard and sore from Guerrero’s fingers.

“These are an old favourite Ilsa.” He explained calmly. “Needle-nose pliers. You said I hurt you when I when I pinched you with my fingers. What do you suppose would happen if I applied the same amount of pressure to these pliers?”

“Please Guerrero no! Let me go!”

“I made a promise Ilsa and I’ll stand by it but you need to answer the question.”

“It would.. It would..” Ilsa couldn’t seem to finish the sentence. Guerrero sighed and took pity on the nearly hysterical woman.

“It would damage you.”

Ilsa cried with relief as the pliers released her aching nipple and she heard Guerrero drop them back in to his toolbox. Then he was back and she flinched as he gently removed the blindfold. Even the dim light of the warehouse seemed painfully bright to her as she blinked, trying to get regain normal vision. The first thing she saw was Guerrero himself, standing only a foot away, watching her intently.

Ilsa regained some of her composure now that she could see Guerrero, as she knew she would, although that composure was somewhat damaged by the fact she was still chained to the warehouse wall almost completely naked.

“I… I understand the difference now Mr Guerrero, I really do.”

Guerrero smirked as his boss. The return to her usual form of address for him as “Mr Guerrero” amused him.

“Well then, lesson two is complete. Although your obvious lack of trust in me is a bit disappointing.”

“Mr Guerrero! You kidnapped me from my bed in the middle of the night and chained me naked to a wall in some god-forsaken warehouse! How on earth do you expect me to trust you?”

Guerrero sighed. “Yeah, you’re still not quite getting it are you?”

Ilsa mouth gaped for a moment, speechless at the man’s sheer audacity.

“You either trust me or you don’t.” He said. “I told you your security system wouldn’t keep you safe and you laughed in my face. So I proved it to you. Do I get a word of thanks? No. I told you I wouldn’t damage you in any way and yet you still stood there snivelling and begging for mercy. My word seems to mean nothing to you Ilsa.”

“I’m sorry Mr Guerrero, but I don’t know what to say.”

“Well I’d better move on to the next lesson then.”

Ilsa let out a disappointed groan She’d hoped the removal of the blindfold had marked the end of Guerrero’s demonstration but there was clearly more he intended to teach her.

“The next lesson is context.” He said as he dragged a small table towards her. His body blocked her view of what was on the table but she found his next words disturbing. “Although there are elements of your first two lessons here too.”

Guerrero turned and stepped to the side giving Ilsa an unobstructed view of the table. She felt the colour drain from her face as she saw the car battery connected to some kind of dial and a tangle of wires.

“Take this battery for instance. In the context of a car or even a garage it’s no real cause for concern. But from the look on your face right now I can see that in the context of you and me, here, now, it scares you.”

“Of course it scares me, Mr Guerrero. I’ve heard talk about the sorts of things you have done to people with one of those!”

“Which provides a neat little recap of lesson one: anticipation.”

“Yes, and lesson two which involved you hurting me, Mr Guerrero! I haven’t forgotten that either!”

“But what was the point of lesson two Ilsa?” He smiled, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

“To learn the difference between ‘hurt’ and ‘damage’.” She hissed at him, angry at herself for being dragged into his sick little teacher-student role-play.

“Correct. See? When you apply yourself you can learn.” He said with a smug little smile.

“Okay, I understand.” Ilsa said impatiently. “Even harmless objects can inspire fear in the right context.”

“That’s true.” Guerrero conceded. “But unfortunately not the point of this particular lesson.”

Ilsa tried to remain calm as he picked up one of the wires and adjusted the attached dial. She knew that although Guerrero was intent on scaring her, and hurting her too, he had given her his word that she would not come to any serious and lasting harm. It finally dawned on her that what Guerrero was trying to teach her wasn’t really about the disturbing methods he employed to coerce people into talking, it was about trust and respect. She’d shown him precious little of either.

“I think I understand you now Mr Guerrero. I haven’t exactly been very fair in my dealings with you.”

Guerrero paused for a moment.

“That’s true.” He said eventually. “And although it’s very gracious of you to say so, it’s a bit late.”

“I trust you Mr Guerrero!” She blurted out and was surprised when she realised she meant it. She couldn’t trust him not to hurt or torment her, not when he already had, but she trusted him with her safety and even her life.

Guerrero smiled.

“Well, we got there in the end.” He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment making Ilsa blush as his gaze took in every detail of her naked body. “I think we’ll make this the final lesson now.”

“I think I’ve learned enough for one night.” She said, trying not to let it sound like she was pleading with him.

“But Ilsa, this is the fun part. This is when I show you what pain in different contexts can do!”

“Please Mr Guerrero, I really don’t want to know!”

He ignored her pleas and advanced towards her with the wire.