So, here I am in Boston for a Post-Production Trends and Breakthroughs conference, sponsored by two of the advertising firms I contract out to. A freebie, sort of. It is sort of a way for them to thank me for the last few years of successful ads that I have produced and directed. If I learn something at the conference that leads to better ads, it is a win-win, I suppose.But as I arrive at the Boston Harbour Hotel, where my conference is to be held, and the site of my paid lodgings for the next three days, I am admittedly not thinking much about what media tricks I will be learning. Kate has agreed to meet me here for dinner tonight. I have not even seen a full photo of her yet, as neither of us feels comfortable putting ourselves out into cyberspace. I had sent her a body shot, at one point, with no face showing, but my cock fully erect, after one of our chat sessions. As I watch the floors light up in the elevator, I ponder how the reality of our full physical selves will interplay. .. or so I thought...I walk through the industrial area which is full of abandoned buildings, garbage dumpsters, graffiti and other unmentionable things, but I'm usually out of there in no time anyway. About halfway through the district, rain starts coming down hard and of course, since I had been rushing, I forgot my umbrella and decided to take shelter under one of the covered doorways. As I started ringing out my hair from the rain, I felt a large hand clamp over my mouth and I was dragged backwards through the door...My head hit the floor when I was dropped; black. I don't know how long I was out or where I'm waking up, all I know is my head hurts and I want to get up ... I can't ... Panic hits me as I notice I am tied up in a basement with no windows and only one really large door. The door opens and you walk in. You are wearing all black; your face is covered by a ski mask and a bandana so I can't see it. You stand behind me as I lay on the cold stone table and you wrap a.
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