Author's note: I read about the Patty Hearst case of the 1970s in which a young heiress was kidnapped, raped, brainwashed, and eventually fell in love with her captors. This phenomenon, which is often referred to as the Stockholm Syndrome, has intrigued me ever since. This is the first chapter of a young Korean woman who suffers the same fate as Patty Hearst but with a twist. I struggled with the story's category but finally classified as "Nonconsent/Reluctant" due to its unusual beginning, forced sex and damn kinkiness. However, to me, it is actually a Romance at heart (or at the very least, Erotic Couplings).
Readers are warned that potions of this story are downright perverse if not plain weird, involving abduction, captivity, rape, and, pornographic fantasy. If these things upset you, please do not read this story -- no harm, no foul. However, if you decide to hang in there, you will find that what happens between Dana and Jim to have been well-researched and is entirely plausible.
As always, all characters are over eighteen-years-old and purely fictional. Enjoy the telling.
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The concrete floor was cold, dank, and rough to the touch as soon as I lifted my head from my forearm that I had used as a pillow. Feeling disoriented, I brushed my thick dark brown hair from my face before opening my eyes and disappointingly found that I was still surrounded in inky blackness. As I uncurled and stretched my five-feet-ten form, I was instantly reminded of my nakedness as parts of me slid off my rough cardboard pad to brush against the chilly concrete floor beneath.
"Damn it! Still stuck in this damn wire cage! Collared and leashed like some dog...a bitch would be a better word," I yelled to myself as I struggled not to cry. My fingertips brushed the now familiar four chain-linked panels that formed my cage and I couldn't help but whispered to myself, "Just enough room for me to stretch my arms and stand...but no more. This cage is still covered with a wire top so that I can't climb out and too damn heavy to lift or tip over. Shit, shit, shit! Why me?"
Wiping away my tears, I forced myself to take several deep breaths to calm myself and immediately became aware of that nagging bladder pressure. "Oh, damn it! I've really got to take a piss...and probably crap too. Where is the cage's entrance... and that damn slot?"
Orienting myself in the darkness of my cage, I followed that damn leather leash that was linked to my equally-damned collar. I knew my restraint was locked to just above the cage's wire door and that below it, was a slot. Lifting the slot's door, I reached through it and found two objects on the other side.
"Ah, here it is," I mumbled. "My large coffee can...well, it used to smell like coffee when I found it the first time...with a plastic sealing lid. Now it smells like Clorox -- but at least it's clean and dry, and with a roll of toilet paper inside." I then had to sigh to myself, "I can remember how embarrassed I was at first. No way was I going to relieve myself in a damn can! God, how stupid I was to think I could use a regular toilet by calling out and demanding to be released for a potty-break -- and then foolishly trying to hold it in."
Removing the toilet paper, I straddled and squatted over the metal can. Reaching between my legs, my fingers spread my hair-lined pussy lips and I quickly released a stream of urine into the can. With a deft tissue wipe when finished, I then repositioned the can underneath my butt hole and then uttering a soft grunt, bore down and defecated.
"Boy, have I gotten good at this," I mused as I made sure to wipe myself clean in the darkness. "I quickly learned that first time that you either piss or shit...but, you can't do both squatting over a coffee can. Was he mad when he discovered my 'mistake' -- hosed me and my cage down with cold water, then threw me an old towel to dry myself...and then another one on which to lay? After shivering from the coldness of the damp concrete floor that night, I learned quickly."
The second object was a tinfoil-covered paper tray that held the expected ham-and-cheese sandwich, half of an apple, a bottle of water, and a foiled packet of sanitary hand wipes. "Thank god, the bastard has some sense of cleanliness -- but too bad he doesn't have much decency!" I complained aloud as I tore open the packet and wiped my face and then my hands. Finally, I carefully wiped my sore and raw genitals to rid myself of the musky smell and stickiness of his semen that caked my pubic hairs.
I thought my food or drink might be drugged to keep me docile and incoherent. I knew I shouldn't eat it but I'm starving. It doesn't matter to him. He just wanted me weak from either drugs or hunger. Although I try to resist him, I was powerless to stop him from being pulled by this damn leash through the cage door and hauled out for another "session."
How long has it been? I've lost track of time. It seems like an eternity -- since I was kidnapped. God, what a nightmare! I still can't believe that this is happening to me. This can't be real. But I'm so confused that I can't be sure of anything anymore. How the hell did this come about? Then sitting down to eat my lousy sandwich, I tried to recall the events that led me to this predicament.
"Well, Dana Kim, what a damn mess you're in!" tumbled from my lips as I muttered to myself. Somehow, it seems just like yesterday I started college. It was my first time away from home, living in a dorm, and on my own. At eighteen, I loved breaking free of the smothering protectiveness of my restrictive Korean upbringing and controlling parents. As the only daughter, I was expected to toe the line and to be prim and proper while living at home. At college, I was able to enjoy life for the first time, and how I looked forward to experiencing what life had to offer.
Unfortunately, it wasn't much. I knew I was totally inept when it came to the opposite sex, but I didn't know just how much. I mean a lot of people said that I was 'nice looking'... ha...what a joke given my nondescript body with its taller-than-normal Asian height, full thighs, flat butt, and small boobs. Simply put, I don't think that I was the type of girl who attracted guys. Maybe that's why I never had a boyfriend -- and only a few casual dates. How many nights did I pine for a boyfriend with whom I could hang out with and have fun?
That's why I was stunned and extremely pleased when Jim seemed attracted to me. Although he wasn't an Adonis, Jim was pleasant, tall, and "nice looking." As an older teaching assistant of the biology lab, Jim could have his pick of the freshman co-eds; yet, he picked me. At first, I didn't know why he kept checking on me, making light of my mistakes and guiding me through the dissections throughout the entire semester. Of all my teaching assistants and classmates, Jim was the only one who was interested in me, and the only one whom I looked forward to being with.
I should have known better when he flattered and joked with me. Jim easily wormed his way into my affection and had me clumsily flirting with him. I didn't think twice about telling him how lonely and alone I was because my roommate had dropped out of school right after the semester started. I remember telling him that on weekends the dorm was practically empty except for me. Did I complain about how I was one of the few girls who couldn't go home for the month-long Winter Break since my parents were strapped for cash and couldn't fly me back? I now know that Jim carefully figured out that over the long Winter Break that I could go missing and people wouldn't even know.
