Abducted - the Next Month

Author's note: Thank you to all the kind commentors on the previous chapter. It received a number of comments about how this isn't dark enough to truly be Stockholm syndrome. I don't disagree. To be truly dark enough I would have to write dozens of chapters where terrible awful things happen to the main character as she is broken down to nothing. That would depress me to no end. This might surprise some of my readers, but I actually have trouble writing the saddest parts of my stories. I find it physically affecting, so I could never write that much darkness, nor should I have to.

In the same way that Just One Drink is my worst nightmare (and all too real considering it was based on what could have happened when I was drugged my freshman year) Abducted is my biggest fantasy. To that end, there will be terrible things in it, but they are the terrible things I crave, not the terrible things that make me cry. Comment on the quality of the writing or the character development, by all means, but the subject matter? Please do us both a favor and read something else.

This is a story filled with Non-consent and dark themes, just like part 1 was and part 3 will be. I won't apologize for adding some light to something so dark.

Chapter 2 - Day 14 - Play Date

Sarah wasn't sure if her owner was simply toying with her, or if he'd had a bad day at work, but that night, according to him, nothing she did was right. She didn't greet him with enough enthusiasm. She didn't thank him for the meal he graciously provided for her, and worst of all, at no point in the two hours he'd been home did she beg him to fuck her.

She could see how the last one was at least a minor sin, but the rest, well, she had trouble taking them seriously, at least until that showed in her attitude. They were only part way through the pork loin they were having for dinner when suddenly he'd decided he'd had enough, and slammed down his silverware. His face wasn't angry exactly either. It was a very cold expression he gave her as he stood. That was the worst part.

"Alright," he said. "Get up. I've clearly been taking it too easy on you, and it's time for another lesson."

Sarah did as she was told, but was a couple seconds too late as she struggled to understand the changing dynamic. She was rewarded by her owner grabbing a handful of her shoulder-length blonde hair and twisting her neck painfully to pull her ear to his mouth. "You spend a few nights up here, and suddenly you think you're a person again?" he growled.

"No," she gasped, "It's not that. I--"

"Maybe it's time I remind you that you're nothing but my property," he interrupted, dragging her from the room. At first, she thought he was taking her to the bedroom, and her perky breasts tingled under the t-shirt he'd let her wear, becoming almost immediately visible. It was worse than that, though, when he dragged her past that door and towards the basement stairs.

Her breath caught in her throat as he opened that door. Literally anything could happen down there, and right now she found her owner impossible to read. She had literally no idea what he was in the mood for. Was he going to shame her? Fuck her? Beat her? All she really ached for was to not be put back in that tiny little punishment cell again. She never wanted that.

"Please - I'm sorry," she whimpered. It was impossible to stop whatever he'd planned next, but at least she could soften the blow. As he forced her passed the doorway, and she began to descend the dark stairs.

Once they were in the cold basement, he began to unlock the playroom, as he called it. It was an often threatened, but rarely visited place inside the cabin. "Maybe if you'd been sorry an hour ago, you would have gotten to finish dinner," he muttered as he undid the padlock.

While he opened the door, Sarah stood there with a feeling of overwhelming panic as her body took the measure of his tone. Part of her was begging for her to try to run away, even if she knew that was impossible. She couldn't run, it was much too late for that, but that didn't mean she had to look forward to what was going to happen next.

As the fluorescent lights blinked, as the playroom slowly appeared one flicker at a time, she saw the familiar site. The monitors. The cameras. The toys. Everything. She couldn't even look at the padded bench towards the center of the room without remembering what he'd done to her there a little over a week ago, and she turned away from it. Fortunately, this time he was more interested in the manacles that hung from the ceiling. Maybe that meant she was just due for a paddling, Sarah thought, hopefully. She could live with that, she thought as a shiver of relief ran through her, and when he called her and forced her to strip, she did so without hesitation.

She didn't struggle either when he attached the padded cuffs to her wrists and then took enough tension on the rope that she was forced to stand on the balls of her feet to keep the pressure off of her wrists.

She regretted the obedience as soon as she saw him reach for a remote control instead of a flog or a paddle, though. This wasn't going to be just physical pain, but he clearly wanted to hurt her mind too. At least this time though, when the first monitor clicked on it wasn't a video of her parents, she thought with relief. It was just a real time feed of her standing there.

"You seem to have forgotten your place, slut," her master said, as he pointed the remote to the second monitor and then flicked it on too. "You've come a long way in a short time. And you've been rewarded for it too, but you seem to think that when your ass heals you can go back to being the bitch I kidnapped from the parking lot."

"You can't," he whispered, leaning close.

While he talked, Sarah watched a supercut of the first two days of her captivity here playing out on screen with tears in her eyes. Every moment of weakness where she begged or cried was captured for posterity, and was being played back in the most humiliating way possible.

"The Sarah on that screen is gone, and she's not coming back," he said coldly as his hands began to wander her body. Sarah shivered, torn between the terrible things she was watching and the authoritative way he was treating her. He'd barely started touching her, and already the sadness that had gripped her throat was stolen away by whimpers of pleasure. "You might look like her. You might even moan like her, but that's all you're ever going to have in common with her, you got that cunt?"

"Of course master..." Sarah purred, swept away by the idea that she wasn't that person anymore. It was quixotic and paradoxical, but still true enough. The Sarah on that screen never would have meekly let a man bind her, and she certainly wouldn't have trembled under his touch while her pussy began to moisten at the idea of what was coming next.

Then, just as suddenly as his torments had started, her owner suddenly walked away from her, leaving her to gasp in frustration. She watched him on the monitor, looking over several implements of pain, before he finally selected a long flog and walked back over to her. He didn't say anything. He didn't chastise her or give her a chance to beg. He just suddenly swung it at practically full strength at her back. The strips of leather landed hard, and Sarah hissed in pain as the unexpected jolt passed through her.

He stood there in silence for a long moment before he picked up the remote and changed the camera view to the one behind her. Now not only could she not see when he was swinging, but she could see the red welts already rising on her pale skin.

"Well slut, are you ready to apologize," he asked, still sounding displeased.

"Of course. I'm so-- Aaaahhhhh!" caught off guard mid-sentence, she cried out as the flog landed a second time. Crisscrossing the first welts on her back and instantly turning those lines into X's.

"No you're not," he spat. "You can't possibly be sorry yet. Look at you. You barely have a mark on you."

"You're right!" she shouted, pleased to see it had stayed the lash, even for a few seconds. "Please. Please make me sorry, master. I deserve it and need to regret my dec-- Fhhhhhh" The flog landed again and this time she inhaled sharply instead of crying out, but almost before she'd recovered from it a second one landed, and then a third.

It was always hard to count with flogs and the way one strike against her flesh felt like two or three, but after another four more blows in quick succession, Sarah lost count as the leather kept falling like rain. Soon, the burning of her skin when she wasn't being struck hurt every bit as much as the sharp pain that momentarily erased the dull one. It was a complicated mix of sensations, and the only part of her back that was safe, according to the monitor, was the place where she'd been branded. Everywhere else was striped in reds and pinks, and her throat was starting to get raw from crying out almost constantly now.

She'd tried to apologize for everything she could think of. For being rude. For being arrogant. She apologized for not being grateful enough and for having an attitude. Nothing worked, though, and it was only when he'd had his fill of tormenting her that he set down the whip and walked around in front of her, grabbing her by the chin and tilting her face up to force her to look him in the eyes.

"And what will you do to make this up to me?" he asked, searching her eyes with his gaze. "You've already ruined dinner. The roast is completely cold. I'm going to need a hell of a desert to make this fiasco up to me."

"Anything," she breathed. "I just want to make you feel good, my master."

"Don't you want to feel good too?" He asked her.

The words were an obvious trap, but she knew there was nothing she could do to avoid it. "I don't deserve to," she whimpered. It was necessarily the safest or the best choice, but it was what felt right at the moment, and it pleased her when those words made her owner smile slightly before he walked away.

She heard him getting undressed, and rummaging through things for a bit, before he came back holding a cordless Hitachi in his left hand. "Are you sure?" he asked, "Not even a little pleasure?"

While he spoke, he brought it up to one of her nipples and turned it on, letting its lubed surface rub against her sensitive flesh at high speed before he slowly let it drift further down. "Nnnmmmm..." she whimpered tremulously, too afraid to say anything at all as the whirring head of the wand slid further down her body. She knew where it was heading, and she didn't want to give him any excuse to stop.

After a little more teasing and a little more whimpering, the toy eventually made its way down to her clit. The result was electric. Suddenly she was hanging limply as the strength was gone from her legs while she panted and moaned. "Nooooooo... I-I don't deserve it... please Master, please," she babbled, getting so loud that her moans finally managed to overcome the moans of the past version of herself on the TV screen.

The more she begged, the harder he pressed though, sending sparks shooting through her body over and over again. It was dangerously intense, and he didn't stop until her back began to tense and her jaw started to go slack as her orgasm finally started bearing down on her.

"You're right," he said, setting the toy down on a nearby table. "The pleasure really should be all mine. Remind me. What did that look like again?" Even coming down from the disappointment of her near orgasm, she felt a sinking feeling as he heard him click another button on his remote. This time she didn't have to open her eyes to know what he'd put on the TV or what it meant about what was about to happen next.

"Love? I love my family, you prick. But you... Uhhhh... You - I hate. I hate you. I hate your dick... mmmm... I hate your fucking dungeon... I hate your... oh god... I hate fucking everything." she heard her past self yell, and they felt like a punch in the gut to her. She remembered very clearly what was happening to her when she was yelling those words out so loudly. Her kidnapper was raping her ass.

For the first time, she corrected herself mentally as she swallowed hard, because she was sure it was about to happen again, and it wasn't long before she felt him pressing the cold lube against her tightly puckered ass.

Sarah swallowed hard, and bit her lip. She knew it was going to hurt, but she knew that begging him not to would just make sure she hurt her more. Instead, she stood there, trying not to pull away too much as she felt the unwelcome pressure of his dick against her ass.

"Don't try to lie to me," he said, cupping her left breast with his left hand while he slowly forced his cock past her slick anus with his right. "You can pretend you don't enjoy this, but we both know the truth. It's right on-screen."

She looked at the monitor, showing the past on the right, but only because it was better than looking at the one that showed her pained expression as he slowly slid his cock inside her on the left.

"No..." past, Sarah sobbed, "Please don't do this to me..." as she started to shake and tremble. Tied down, she couldn't move much to show how hard she was cumming. She didn't have to, because Sarah would never forget that moment. It wasn't just incredibly hot. It was also incredibly humiliating. Only a couple nights ago, when she'd played with her pussy, that was the moment she'd masturbated to. She'd been ashamed of it afterwards, but she couldn't help it. Something about cumming while her rapist's dick was in her ass was just so depraved.

Just thinking about it made what was happening to her right now feel that much hotter. Even as she watched the last version of herself getting fucked, her owner was sliding ever deeper into her tight little ass. Sarah was honestly surprised at how little it hurt this time. By the time he bottomed out inside her, she felt full, but hardly on fire like before. It was a welcome change.

At least until he started fucking her.

"God, you've got such a tight little ass," he groaned in her ear, making the pleasure he was feeling at her expense. "If this is how you're going to apologize to me from now on, then you need to act out more often, Sarah."

A wave of goosebumps washed across her as he finally said her name. "No," she whispered. "I promise to be better. I promise to be the toy that you deserve, master."

"What I deserve is as tight a hole as possible," he growled, releasing her breast to pick up the wand he'd had earlier. This time there was no teasing. Even as he kept fucking her in slow, steady strokes, he moved it back to her clit and turned it straight to medium. That much stimulation instantly caused her body to stiffen, which made all of her muscles clamp down, including the ones in her sensitive ass, as they warred with the invader inside her.

That sudden tightness in turn made those same stroke hurt much more than they had, as Sarah cried out. "Aahhh - it's... i-it's too-o much master... please!" the pain that was created by the consequences of the pleasure he was forcing her to experience quickly became a positive feedback loop, though. When she felt like this, every sensation became a good sensation in her broken mind. The throbbing welts on her back, her owner's right hand wrapped around her throat, and even her stretched and aching anus all became a perverse form of pleasure that quickly became impossible to endure.

Torments were coming at her from every direction now. Below her, her clit was being attacked in a way that lit her on fire. To her right was a looped clip showing the last time she'd cum with a dick in her ass, and to her right was a monitor showing the lewd face she was making as she panted and moaned on the dick inside her right now. None of that compared to the dick that was pistoning in and out of her ass, though. It overrode everything else.

Sarah was moaning now, or maybe screaming. She wasn't sure which. All she could hear were the sounds of her pleasure echoing off the walls from both the past and the future. She didn't cum, though. Not until she felt the fucking stop as her owner began to fill her ass with jet after jet of hot, thick cum. He was whispering something in her ear as he did it, but she wasn't sure what. She was too far gone for that now.

She was past mind games. All that concerned her was the whirlpool of pleasure and pain that was pulling her ever deeper while she bucked and writhed on the manacles she hung from. She only knew that that terrible moment was finally over when she finally noticed how sore her wrists were getting.

Sarah was about to ask her owner to free her, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, he was already starting to lower her. She considered asking him what he'd said, but decided not to. It would be much more fun to find out in the replay when they inevitably played this terrible game again.

No matter how hard she tried, she was certain that she was going to slip up at some point and misbehave again. Maybe sooner rather than later.