The brain fog was clearing; her consciousness returned like a slow moving pile of warm ice cream. Steph immediately sensed things weren't right. Her arms and her feet were restrained to some type of padded sofa or table. She felt this furnishing was taller than most; she felt as if she were posted up in the air, not near the floor. She felt she was still dressed except for her shoes. She tried pulling on the restraints but her hands would come up only a few inches. She couldn't judge how much she could move her feet.
She noted the furniture was comfortable, other than her being tied to it. The room lighting was subdued, coming from recessed panels above her head. She turned her head to look at the strap holding her left hand. It looked to be made of silk and the cuff or wrist part, whatever it as called, was lined and padded. She could just see what appeared to be a brass or gold buckle on the upper side away from where she could ever possibly reach it. Turning her right leg and then trying to lift it up, she was able to surmise that it was the same about the straps around her ankle. Soft and padded, but certainly holding her in place without hurting her skin.
Steph was not mad yet. She was just reaching the curious mental stage of why she was being immobilized. Mad would surely come later, then, she would get severely pissed enough to kick the ever-loving crap out of whomever tied her down. She recalled shopping at the small mall near her apartment. She recalled having lunch at the Chinese fast food place. She vaguely remembered walking back toward her car when someone in a group of people in the parking garage said something in her direction. When she turned toward them - she remembered a small flash, a sprayed mist, and nothing after that. She was sure the spray was a neuralizing drug of some form - the flash a distractor. THAT pissed her off enough to catalog it for future reference.
When she looked to her right, Steph saw a small container and a bendable straw sticking from the top. The printed label said "water" clear, readable letters. She realized she was thirsty so she ventured a drink. It was distilled water with no flavor, just room temp bottled water. One more drink and she decided to start memorizing everything around her for future reference. Hell, what future -she didn't even know where she was or why she was, or anything of that crap. All she knew was being tied to this couch, or sofa, or whatever it was.
Steph focused herself inwardly and began to calm her emotions; settled her breathing, and focused on controlling her thoughts and feelings, she began a self-inventory. Nothing hurt or seemed physically injured. She didn't feel that her undergarments or top clothing were out of place. Other than the fogginess in her head from the apparent drugging, everything else seemed to be as it would usually be. She didn't know whether to be happy or mad - she was obviously kidnapped, but she had not be molested or raped. At least - not yet, was her immediate next thought.
A small noise awakened Steph from her momentary napping. The lighting had changed to be more focused; it was direct, more brightly placed on her than the room. The light now made a halo effect where she couldn't see beyond it. She could hear someone moving near the place she was restrained.
"Who's there," Steph tried to ask in a calm, easy voice. "Could you please tell me who you are, and why I'm here?" Nothing - just a sound of someone walking around.
"Could you at least grunt," Steph said," I'd at least like to know you are from this planet, or maybe human."
Still nothing; and then Step heard the sound of a keyboard being used. It suddenly registered on her she was now wearing a small HUD device - head's up display - like military helo pilots wore just above her eyes. She watched a short phrase appear on the display. "do not intend to harm you."
Steph laughed a little, "sure, not harm me, she heard herself say out loud. "I'm staked out like a friggin' pig for slaughter and you aren't going to hurt me."
"NOT slaughter - pleasure treatment" showed on the HUD.
"What", said Steph slightly stunned, "a 'pleasure' treatment? What the hell are you talking about?"
"You have been selected for pleasure treatment," appeared on the HUD.
Steph was still trying to sort this out when she felt hands on both ankles. Instinctively, she kicked out against them but found they were incredibly strong. It was almost impossible to move at all. As she fought against the grip, she felt a thumb from one of the hands massaging the bottom of her left foot. Instead of being her usually incredibly ticklish self, the motion was soft, well centered, and felt, well, pretty damn great.
She hesitated to see what was going to happen. That caused her to pause struggling against the hands. Almost immediately, the other hand began to massage her other foot sole. This is certainly not what Steph had been picturing in her mind as her destiny. The foot massage was disturbing her chain of thought because it felt so good. Even with her nylons on, she could feel the fingers, especially the thumbs, finding every miniscule spot in the plexus of her arches, her toes, and her heels. That was an "Hmmmm" in the making for sure. At least - Steph thought, whoever her assailant was, they had great hands. Probably a male but she knew her regular masseuse at the gym was female and she had big, strong hands.
Steph came out of her reverie that the calming effect of the foot massage was giving her when she felt the hands move atop her feet and begin working on her ankles. No other motion - just that; but now the massage included all of her feet and ankles. Both feet, both ankles at the same time. She thought that was odd. Most professionals have a favored side to work from. So this wasn't a professional - or not what?? Both feet were getting identical treatment and the motions were exactly the same. Damn, they were good at it. She held her breath as the hands moved away from her feet. The lack of touch was immediately obvious. It was a no-win scenario for Steph. She knew she was a prisoner of some sort - so she should not like the calming feeling the massage gave her. But, at the same time, she could sense no meanness, no violence in the touching. And the massage effort was excellent by any standards.
She felt her legs relax as the hands came back to her ankles, only this time one leg was lifted and the touching was now going up her right shin area. Her leg wasn't very high up, but she knew whoever was doing this to her could probably see right up her skirt. The thought of rape popped right into her mind and she flinched away from the touching. Immediately the HUD lit up again with the phrase "Pain?" in front of her eyes.
"No pain," said Steph, "but I'm sure you're going to attack me because you moved my leg to see up my skirt. That bothers me because ..."
Before Steph could finish her sentence the HUD popped back on with "NO RAPE. Sex maybe later, when you are prepped. BUT NO RAPE" showed in computer green screen letters.
"Wait a minute, "said Steph, "WHAT do you mean NO rape, but maybe sex later? What the hell does that mean" What the hell is the difference - you are controlling every damn thing so why ISN'T it rape?" Steph was trying to not getting pissed and hurt herself, or let this "thing" get the best of her self-control.
The HUD display blinked for a few seconds, and then a slow answer appeared over the eye screen:" RAPE IS NO CONTROL VIOLENCE. Sex is done with person who wishes to enjoy life. When done, you will love life more and you will want more ...." The display blinked at the end
Steph was stunned. No one, not even her mother knew she was still a physically intact virgin at the ripe old age of 22. Well, her vagina was, anyway. She had learned how to give hand jobs when she was 13 from the 17 yr old guy who lived next door in the apartment complex one summer. Amazing what a game of truth or dare could get you into. One misadventure with oral sex her senior year of high school put her off on trying to give any more blow jobs. He should have never forced her head down on his pecker - she would have never bit his dick like she did.
So - okay, she thought out loud, "You -whoever AND whatever the fuck you are - is going to convince me that sex is great by kidnapping me. That's really a crock of shit."
The HUD blinked for a moment, and then words appeared: "1- not kidnap, no ransom request; 2) Human; and then after a moment #3) appeared." NOT crock, statement of fact." And then the HUD blinked off. Steph wasn't sure what was going to happen after that wonderful exchange, but then she felt the hands on her ankles again, but working on the left leg this time.
She thought about it for a while as the hands went up and down the front of her left leg, back to the right, and then back to the left again. She had not been hurt - so far. The hands were very obviously powerful in the way they could hold her and keep her in place. She let herself relax some more and enjoy the massage motions even though the rest of her mind said "NO!"
The HUD blinked on "Calves?" and blinked off
Okay, thought Steph, if you are going to tell me where you are going, then ....and the thought just floated away as the most fantastic touch - no, that was a caress - went up the back of her left leg calf and back to her ankle area. It was so smooth, so tender, it just blew her mind. No pain, no roughness - it lifted, held, and caressed her calf muscles carefully, warmly, and ever so goodly if that was even a word.
Up and back, around, and out, back in, around, to the knee and back to the ankle tendons, again and again. Steph was finding it hard to NOT like this attention. No one had ever been able to rub her leg muscles without hitting a sore spot - her "holder" as she was mentally naming him or her - had zeroed in on her body like a shot of pain killer and there were no hurts, stiffness, etc. As Steph was thinking this revelation through, the HUD clicked on, showed, "Nylons off?" and clicked off.