TIES.

“Help! Someone help!” Jerry called out.
Her hands were sore from the ropes cutting into the wrists. Her pale, creamy skin was blue and black where the masked man had hit her, first across her exposed back and down her legs.
“Be quiet! No one can hear you anyway,” he smirked as she tried to bite him but missed and barely grazed his arm as he readjusted the ropes from which she hung.
With the utmost care, he set his instruments out on the table in front of her. More rope, scissors, a gag, a whip, a small basin with water and a wash cloth and worryingly, a small stove like you take camping.
She watched, squirming and swinging, trying to get her bound feet to reach out and strike him. Calmly, he moved around the table, grabbed her feet and holding the rope in his mouth, proceeded to tie them behind her, so that her calves were now lying against her thighs.
She was alternatively screaming and swearing at him when he reached down and grabbed the gag. Squeezing her jaw open, he pushed the rubber bulb into her mouth and carefully, tenderly, adjusted the clasp behind her head.
He then lit the stove and run the length of the whip through the flame.
Jerry was now, hyperventilating, her chest heaving up and down in panicked gasps of air.
He stood a good distance away and struck her thighs. She shuddered. The whip left hot, stinging marks across her. He struck again, this time across her chest. Her torso turned on the hooks above, in an effort to shield herself. He ran his big hands, huge and yet strangely groomed and manicured through her hair and marvelled at the red glow of her hair in the room’s candle-lit light. He nibbled on her up-turned toes, savoring each one like bite-sized licorice.
At this point, she spat out the gag which had actually only been held in place by her biting into it and not by the fixture at the back. She sighed heavily and said “Babylon”.
He stopped, cut the ropes, removed his mask, laid her on the divan and bathed her wounds.