She wondered if the placement had been deliberate. Probably. Steve was an expert with the strap, his favorite. Never over the kidneys, never any place that would show, always a fixed number of blows, and usually repeated in the same spot enough times to cause a bruise if the first blow wasn’t hard enough already. He was careful, too, about always allowing a few weeks’ time for her body to heal entirely before starting the show all over. Having secured the camera in its mount, Steve shifted the tripod around, peering at the viewer until he had the exact frame he wanted. A moment and a push of a few buttons, and the camera began taking shots automatically, every fifteen seconds. Sending directly to his laptop through a cable, the camera had almost limitless memory. Hours and hours of entertainment for her sociopath husband. She sometimes wondered why he never converted to video, but photographs seemed to be his fetish. Steve moved to a secured cabinet and removed handcuffs. Christie. She slammed the door behind her and turned the key. She sat on the floor, her back against the door breathing heavily.In the meantime the large man couldn't change his direction and slammed into a display. The display couldn't support a man charging into it and collapsed. The large man, still dragging the second woman, collapsed as well in a confusion of legs, arms, panties, bras and stockings. A few onlookers gathered in the general proximity of the disaster area.The man managed to get up helping the girl whose short dress was gathered at her waist uncovering her pink panties and gartered stockings. It took both a moment to recover their dignity. The girl smoothed her dress down and the man took from the inside of his jacket a couple of hangers with a dozen panties, throwing them on a counter. A garter belt that was hanging from his head fell on the floor. He looked down and picked up his belt.He looked around and spotted the door through which Susan had disappeared before he.
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