Okay, so here’s Part 2 (again)

You may want to go back and read the last chat in part 1, there were a few changes, which hopefully foreshadow things to come. Here is part 2.


Dana (Danothy)


On Wednesday night Becky signed on as WG27 and checked to see if Werewolf was there. She was delighted to find him waiting with a picture of himself. It was a wedding photo, but he had marked up his ex-wife’s face with a pencil, giving her horns and a devil’s tail. He was cute,

But then, so’s Jerry. It doesn’t make him a nice guy. I need to learn more about this guy, make sure I’m not jumping from one bad relationship into another.

She took another selfie with Jerry’s camera and uploaded it. She wore the black nightie negligee he’d bought for her last October. Werewolf was intrigued.

[Werewolf] Looks like you made a few alterations to your nightgown.

[WG27] Do you like it?

[Werewolf] Well, not that I’m complaining, but I it screams ‘Look at me. I’m all but naked.’ I take it the strategic rips in the fabric were your own modifications.

[WG27] Yeah. Jerry bought it for me last October. He wanted to take some sexy pictures for Halloween. I carried a kitchen broom, not very authentic, but that’s all we could come up with. I wore this and a witch’s hat… for a little while, at least. (wink). He uploaded a whole series of those pix, but not on this board. Just as well. I’d be embarrassed to let you see them. They get pretty wild.

[Werewolf] Whoa! TMI. I don’t need to know the details, although it sounds like you had a fun time.

[WG27] Actually, I was embarrassed about the whole idea, but he loved it. Unfortunately, around Thanksgiving things started going downhill between us.

[Werewolf] Yeah, I’m guessing black eyes were not part of your original relationship dynamic. But, I don’t get it. Did he lose interest in you?

[WG27] No, but his interests have taken a turn for the worse. Why can’t things ever stay the same? I didn’t mind the bondage and discipline so much because I knew it really turned him on. That’s what brought us together in the first place. But then, it wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted to take it farther, more violent. He started hurting me, said it brought out the real man in him. Now, that’s all he wants.

[Werewolf] So tell him where you draw the line.

[WG27] I can’t do that! He’d kill me, literally. Between him and his two friends they’d beat me to death. Well, Jerry would beat me. The other two would just… Y’know what? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we change the subject, please?

[Werewolf] Okay, but first, let me just see if I got this straight. He doesn’t treat you the way you want anymore. He beats you. His friends rape you. And you’re afraid to do or say anything about it because it would only make things worse? Nikki, you need to get out of that house. Now.

[WG27] I can’t do that! I got no transportation, no money, and nowhere to go! What am I gonna do, call an Uber?

[Werewolf] I could call an Uber for you. Or, if you want, I could come and get you. Right now. Just tell me where you are. Your profile for Nikki says Bartlett, but it doesn’t say where.

Becky hesitated. The thought of running away suddenly made her nervous. Even if she did manage to get away from Jerry unscathed, she didn’t actually know this Werewolf guy. He might turn out to be just as bad. Heck, he could be worse. He was trying to find out where she lived, he’d even checked her profile. Was that stalking? Thank goodness Jerry had insisted they not complete their profiles on BAAL. ‘We don’t want the whole world to know where to find us, do we?’ he’d said. And he’d been right. She couldn’t just give her address to some stranger she met online.

[Werewolf] Nikki?

Panic flared in her breast. Werewolf was going to be angry with her now. If he were here, he’d probably yell at her, tell her how stupid she was for not trusting him, maybe even smack her around to make his point.

All men were like that down deep. They acted sweet in the beginning, but  once she disobeyed—like not telling him where to find her—out came the fists. He could even be a bigger monster than Jerry, but by the time she figured it out, it would be too late. Better the monster you know, right?

[Werewolf] You still there?

And there was no way she could leave Jerry, not because she wanted to stay, but because of what he’d do if he caught her. Making Jerry angry was never a good idea. Her black eye and the bruises on her arm were proof of that. It’d be easier if she just waited until he grew tired of her, threw her out of the house. That day was in the not-too-distant future. If she could just bide her time until then, she wouldn’t have to confront him. He’d end the relationship and then she could move on to something better.

 [Werewolf] Look, if you don’t feel comfortable with me, then at least go to the police. You’re being abused and raped. It’s gotta stop.

There were no police out here, only the county sheriff’s office, but she couldn’t go to them. One of Jerry’s friends was a deputy, and not the good kind. Ray was the type of deputy who pilfered drugs from the evidence locker. He used his authority to intimidate women into subservience. Werewolf didn’t understand that going to the authorities was not an option. And it might not be safe for her to explain that, even in a private chat room—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Becky’s heart leapt into her throat as she turned to see Jerry, Bobby, and Ray — still in uniform—standing in the doorway behind her.

“I didn’t—”

But those two words were all she got out before Jerry’s fist landed.  


            When she awoke in the dark, Becky felt around, trying to get her bearings. After a moment, she realized they’d put her in the closet. She tried to open the door and was not surprised to find it locked. The house was built in the early 1900s and several interior doors, including this one, had the old locks which took a skeleton key. Jerry had three or four keys in his junk drawer.

After catching her on the computer, Jerry had beaten her senseless, then locked her in here. Judging by the tenderness of her feminine parts and the dried blood on her thigh, he and his friends had also ‘done her’ while she was unconscious. At least she was familiar with the closet. This wasn’t the first time she’d been imprisoned here.

For several days she remained locked in her makeshift cell, only allowed out to use the toilet or provide carnal entertainment. Jerry let his buddies strip her of the negligee and then they burned all her clothes in the fireplace, even her shoes. He said she’d be less likely to try an escape attempt without anything to wear. Becky suspected the reason had more to do with their male libidos than her intimidation.  Now that she was constantly naked, Bobby and Ray began molesting her every time they let her out.

But Jerry was worse. No longer interested in ‘doing her’, he had Ray handcuff her the hands behind her and then pummeled her with his fists. Each beating was accompanied by a lecture.

“You belong to me. And I don’t give up what’s mine. Oh, I might pass you around to my friends for a quick game of ‘interrogate the prisoner’ because that’s about all you’re good for these days. But you’re mine and your gonna stay mine until I decide otherwise, which will be never!

Later that night they forced her to pose for another picture, flipping the bird at the camera, and sent that to Werewolf along with a note, telling him to go fuck himself. She had resisted savagely until Jerry beat her into submission. By the time she acquiesced, both eyes were swollen and blood trickled from her nose. Then they ‘did her’ again and she was dumped back into the closet. As she lay on the floor bruised and bleeding, Becky realized she was going to die if she didn’t get out of there soon.


Becky woke up and tried for the hundredth time to open the door. She had to use her left hand because her right wrist was swollen and painful. She knew it was hopeless. The door was always locked. But she had to keep trying.

Nikki, you need to get out of that house. Now.

Too late, she realized Werewolf’s advice had been spot on. If she had left then, when he told her to, she might not be in this predicament. But she had squandered her chance worrying about going from a bad situation to a worse one.

Well, at least that’s no longer a concern. It can’t get any worse than this.

Now she’d never get another opportunity. Jerry had caught her in the act of planning her escape—his words—and. She was now his prisoner, battered, bruised, and locked away where nobody would be able to help her.

The tumblers clicked and the door slid open quietly. The sound filled her with such panic that she pulled the door closed again. Was this a trap, another opportunity for Jerry to catch her trying to run away, so he could beat her again?

You’re being abused and raped. It’s gotta stop.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one being brutalized,” she muttered. But his words rang true. Nobody was going to stop Jerry. Nobody was going to come galloping to her rescue. If she was going to get out of this, she’d have to do it all by herself. She forced the terror back down into the pit of her stomach and opened the closed door.

Suspecting a trap, Becky peeked out. The hallway was clear. The sound of Jerry’s snoring came from the bedroom. Daylight barely illuminated the front door window, so it was early morning. Maybe she could escape out before he woke up. As a precaution, she took the key sticking out of the lock and hid it inside the closet, just behind the door frame.

First came the bathroom, to relieve her aching bladder. She tiptoed past the bedroom door, Jerry’s snores reassuring her that she was safe… for now. She was dismayed to find blood in her urine, but there was nothing she could do about it right now. First she had to escape with her life, but how? Where could she go and how could she get there?

She’d have to leave on foot. She could go through the wooded lot across the street, then follow Brush Creek out to the big gas station by the interstate. But she’d have to stay out of sight. If anyone saw her beaten this badly, they’d call the sheriff’s office. Then Ray would know, and he’d tell Jerry, and Jerry would kill her, literally.

Werewolf would come and get her, if she could only contact him. But how?

Only one thing came to mind. It was a long shot, but she didn’t see any other option. So she quietly tiptoed into the computer room. Listening to the sounds of Jerry’s snore through the wall, she turned the PC on, praying he hadn’t changed the password – he hadn’t. That was the only nice thing she could think about Jerry, he always thought he held all the cards.

She tried to log onto Baal as WG27, but the account had been deleted. She didn’t want to send a note as Nikki because Jerry would be able to see it, so she tried to create a new free account, using the username WonderWoman.

Nope, That was taken, as was Wonderwoman02.

It doesn’t matter. I’m only going to send one note and then I’ll never use it again, anyway.

She tried the username RLV22, her real initials and age, and found it available. A few moments later, she sent the note.

     Werewolf, I’m sorry about that last note. Of course you realizet I didn’t write it. That was Jerry. He swore he’d kill me before letting me go – nearly did, too.

     You offered to come get me. I’ll be at Zeke’s tonight after dark. That’s a truck stop on I-69 at Bartlett. Around back there’s a footpath going into the woods. About half a mile in there’s a campsite. I’ll wait for you there. If I don’t see you tonight, then I’ll come back again tomorrow night.

     I’m sorry to place this in your lap so abruptly, but I’m desperate. Please come.  Becky (WolfGirl.)

Tiptoeing into the bedroom, she opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, hoping he hadn’t actually destroyed her entire wardrobe. Jerry’s snore was obnoxious, but at least it meant he was sleeping soundly. The drawer was empty, so she quietly pushed it shut and tried the next one.

Everything was gone.

Shit! The one task Jerry actually completes and it has to be destroying all my stuff.

She froze as Jerry snorted and rolled over in bed. She held her breath, praying that he’d start snoring again. Several seconds passed in total silence. He farted loudly, but didn’t resume snoring.

If he caught her trying to grab clothes and run, he’d kill her. Was he awake? Or was he still sleeping? Fear got the better of her. She couldn’t take the chance of getting caught. And she had a key to the closet now, she could escape at the next opportunity. Quickly, she snuck back out of the room.

Jerry shifted his weight on the bed. He was getting up!  Becky scurried down the hallway as fast and quietly as she could, re-entered the closet and pulled the door to, keeping the knob turned so that the latch wouldn’t make a sound. As she slowly released the latch, she heard Jerry close the door to the bathroom.  she inserted the key and locked herself in, then listened as Jerry did his business, flushed the toilet and returned to bed.

Her lungs burned, she’d been holding her breath ever since leaving Jerry’s bedroom, terrified of making any sound. Now, finally safe again, she let out the stale air with a whoosh and gasped for more. The movement sent a flare of pain up her left side where she’d received a roundhouse kick the night before and she quickly slowed her breathing. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe more slowly, willing her terror to diminish as well. But the terror wouldn’t go completely away.

That had been too close.


Now that it was daylight, she couldn’t rely on Jerry going back to sleep. She’d have to wait until this evening, when he went out drinking with his buddies. Then she’d find something to wear, sneak out of the house and never look back. With a little luck, she’d leave this house forever.

She was too worked up to sleep, even when she heard the bed’s squeaky protest as Jerry plopped back down on it, but she was going to need all her strength. So she curled up on the floor and closed her eyes.

She was a prisoner, locked up like an animal, completely at the mercy of her keeper. Her mind drifted back to the bunny they’d kept in a cage at the back of their classroom in 5th grade. He’d always seemed content, but Becky wondered if he’d felt trapped and helpless, just as she was now.

The bunny’s name was Mr. Wiggles. She and Betty Jo Hampton were best friends back then and Betty Jo’s daddy had donated the cage. Even though all the children took turns refilling Mr. Wiggles’ food and water, it was Betty Jo who was unofficially ‘in charge’ of his care. Becky helped clean the shelf beneath the cage at the end of each day, dumping out the old paper with the little poops on it. Mr. Hibbert, the custodian, kept a pile of newspapers in the utility room and allowed them to take fresh pages each day to replace under the cage.

Becky remembered confiding to Betty Jo that the little poops looked suspiciously like candy crunches. They giggled furiously at the idea of offering some to the boys in class. In the tiny broom closet of Jerry Felder’s house, she grinned at the memory.

One afternoon the whole school was called to assembly. A police detective lectured them all about Stranger Danger:  Don’t talk to strangers. Never walk anywhere alone. Always play in groups with your friends.

Betty Jo said it was because of Freddy Shankwell, who’d been murdered by a pervert. Of course, nobody actually told them that, but rumors spread around school. During recess Jeff Gromer argued that Freddy had been attacked by monsters, but three days later, while getting clean newspaper for Mr. Wiggles’ cage, Betty Jo found the story. According to the paper, Freddy’s body was discovered out by the train trestle at Billings Creek, naked and bound with baling twine. Sexual abuse was evident, but the police didn’t have any suspects.

 Betty Jo said, “He was killed by a pervert, that’s all. He was stupid enough to take candy from a stranger or something and that’s what you get when you’re stupid.”

But Becky argued, “It could have been a monster, Betty Jo. Even if Jeff is a loud mouth, I think he’s right about the monsters.”

“Oh, come on, Becky!  You don’t believe in monsters, do you?”

“They’re real. Maybe the pervert that got Freddy looked like a human, but he was a monster. He had to be!”

 “Monsters are not real, Becky!”

This was the first time she and Betty Jo had really argued about anything. Becky would normally have just agreed with her to avoid the confrontation, but this was really important. She needed to convince Betty Jo for her own safety.

“Yeah, they are, Betty Jo. Even though it’s scary to think about, they do exist. Monsters are really real.”

“Oh, for Cripe’s sake, if you’re gonna be such a baby, then I don’t want to talk to you.”

Becky flinched, as if Betty Jo had hit her. Tears welled in her eyes. She turned her face away, not wanting the other girl to see. They’d remained cordial after that argument. They even continued caring for Mr. Wiggles together, but Becky no longer thought of Betty Jo as her best friend, and certainly not her confidant.

All through her life that same terrible truth kept reconfirming itself. Every time Jerry hit her, he confirmed what she had always known. 

Monsters are really real.

And who would know better than her? After all, she was living with one – a monster who pretended to be a man. And, for reasons she never fully understood, she pretended, too.


(End of part 2)

I’ll post the conclusion in a few days. Meanwhile, if you’re interested in more of my stories, you can find a collection of them on Amazon Kindle. Talk with you again, soon.

Dana (Danothy)

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