“If I wanted to, Walt, I could throw you out this window. Or if I didn’t want to get caught, I could take the carving knife from the drawer over t...ere and poke you a little.” Walt’s voice squeaked a little bit. “I know, sir.” The man started chuckling to himself. “I’m kidding, Mr. Stevens.” Walt shifted the front of his jeans uncomfortably. “You need to loosen up a bit.” “Okay, sir.” “I hired you for a reason. If I just killed you now, all I’d do is lose myself money.” He looked down at Walt’s. The writer, whoever he (or she?) was, told me about a torture club in my citywhere victims could discuss their fantasies and then take part in sessionsheld in the club's dungeon. I replied by email that I was interested, and gota reply the next day. I was told to come to an address about half a mile frommy apartment, at 8 pm the next day. That day I was in a feverish excitement. I showered and put on a pair ofjeans and a T-shirt that showed off my figure. I kept looking at my watch,but time. More

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