Cheryl shifted her head to the left, her eyes blurred with tears. Pleading with her captor had been fruitless. He had regarded her with a blank expression as she cried silent tears, turning up the television to drown out the sniffles that followed. At first, she thought it was some kind of kinky game, and had been too spaced out to put up a fight. She even giggled as he pushed her onto her stomach before binding her knees and ankles behind her back. Was this what he had meant about having fun? There was nothing about masochism in his profile. She thought back. She had barely returned from the toilet before he gave her something sweet to drink. Just what was in that cocktail? And what else was in the rucksack that he pulled from the wardrobe that night? Once she was tied, Matthew had stepped back from the bed, wiped his hands on the back of his trousers and turned on the TV. In stunned amazement, Cheryl had lain there, wondering what on earth was taking place. All of a sudden, she didn’t like this game anymore. She half expected him to put on the porn channel to get them in the mood. But instead, some old Mel Gibson movie played out, while Cheryl lolled in and out of consciousness, waiting for the drug-induced fog to clear.

‘Let me go,’ she said, arching her back as the ropes cut into her wrists and ankles. Deftly he had tied his knots, and as fresh fear drove its way into her thoughts, she realised he had done this sort of thing before. ‘Do you hear me?’ she said, her voice splintering as it raised an octave. ‘The game’s over. Set me free.’

But Matthew just laughed at the television, a comedic moment in which the actor was dressing up as a woman to get a job. It was as if Cheryl was not there at all.

This morning she was awoken as he drew the blinds and light flooded the hotel room. Panic gripped her as she realised just how much time had passed. Calmly, her captor drank a bottle of water from the minibar, barely acknowledging her presence in the room. It wasn’t until she threatened to scream that he glanced in her direction. Tutting, he, reached for his rucksack on the floor. It clanked as he placed it on the table, and her stomach clenched in fear as she realised there were heavy tools inside.

‘In that case,’ Matthew said, reaching for a black ball-shaped object, ‘you’ll have to wear the gag.’

Cheryl knew that this was no game. This man was here to hurt her. A ransom demand, or something worse. But why keep her overnight? Surely if he were going to sexually assault her, he would have done it by now. If anything, he went to great care not to touch her intimately as he bound her arms and legs.

‘No,’ she spat, wrenching her head from left to right to avoid the hard rubber ball gag. But Matthew had immobilised her within seconds, tying the attached bindings to the back of her head.

‘Now for another photo,’ he said, pulling his iPhone from his back pocket. ‘But we just need to get the right look.’

What did he mean, another? Cheryl’s heart was hammering so hard she felt it was going to tear its way out of her chest. A vague recollection crept in of Matthew snapping their picture before. He had said it was an air con remote but she was too woozy to challenge him at the time. With fear-driven clarity, she realised the danger she had walked into. All for the sake of a bit of fun. What was her husband doing now she had not come home? Had he called the police? Had Hannah? Would they be too late?

Matthew scrunched up his face as he held the camera phone aloft. ‘No, you’re not quite there yet.’

The mattress bounced as he sat on the bed. She flinched as he touched her hair, but he continued as if he were petting his favourite dog.

‘Do you know what I’m going to do with you?’ His words crawled from his mouth like black legged beetles, a terrifying contrast to his actions. ‘I’m going to chop off your ring finger and send it to your husband, along with a photograph of you lying on this bed. There will be three pictures for him to pour over. This one’s photo number two. Tomorrow we’re going to take a very special one, but you won’t be alive for that.’ Thin laughter escaped his lips. ‘Shame; I’d love you to see it.’

Consumed with terror, Cheryl’s eyes bulged as she tried to scream. But her panicked expulsion came out as a garbled moan, blocked by the gag fastened over her mouth.

‘Shh shh,’ there’s no point in fighting it.’ Matthew rose from the bed. ‘You put this in motion when you became a whore. You broke one of God’s commandments. It’s all you deserve.’

He smiled, holding his camera phone aloft once more. ‘I’m going to wrap the rope around your throat and pull until you stop breathing.’ A chuckle laced his words. ‘Bet you wished you were faithful now.’

Cheryl’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, the whites flashing in the morning light. As she squirmed and fought against her bindings, they only served to numb her limbs even more. She was vaguely aware of the flash of a camera before Matthew returned to her side.

‘There. All done. Sorry to frighten you, but the photo would have been a bit dull otherwise.’ He leaned closer still, his breath hot on her ear as he whispered his final threat. ‘If I were you I’d start praying, because you’ve earned yourself a place in Hell.’

Cheryl felt as if she were about to implode. Tightly bound, she was unable to move, the scream building in her throat searching for release. Adrenalin pumped through her veins as she tried to work out how to escape. The look in Matthew’s eyes told her death was near. He leaned forward to stroke her hair one last time, the top button of his shirt undone. The small jingle of jewellery caught her attention and she focused to see a gold band dangling in front of her nose. It was a wedding ring, just like hers. As he tugged at her ring finger, cold fear sliced through to her bones. He palmed her wedding ring before stepping away and undoing the chain around his neck.

‘Another one for my collection,’ he murmured, threading Cheryl’s ring onto the chain.

Unable to stop trembling, Cheryl tried to comprehend his words. She needed to focus. Try to negotiate. Find a way out of here. But what did he mean, his collection? And who owned the ring before? She thought of the person who gave her the referral. Just what had she gotten herself caught up in? She was an ordinary housewife, nothing special. Her heart drumming in her ears, she tried to slow her breath. He would remove her gag. She would offer him money, agree to his demands. But as Matthew rooted in his rucksack, she caught sight of a glint of steel. And all at once she knew he was not going to let her go.