Isabelle's Awaening

Authors note: This is a bit of a departure for Isabelle and Dillon. I hope you enjoy it.

Isabelle opened her eyes slowly, feeling sluggish and dazed. With some alarm she looked around at the completely unfamiliar surroundings she found herself in. Her arms were heavy and tingled at her fingertips amidst the tangled sheets. As she struggled to clear the sleep from her eyes, she took note of her location.

She was sprawled in a king-sized bed in a room she had never seen before. There was the usual bedroom furniture dotting the rest of the room, dark cherry nightstands, two matching mirrored dressers, a large comfortable sitting area, and a towering armoire that she guessed housed a TV and other entertainment devices. Artwork tastefully arranged on the cream-colored walls as well as heavy drapes that covered tall windows, and any glimpse she might have had of the outside world.

It took a moment for understanding to dawn on her and when it did; it came with a tingling sense of dread. She had just awakened in a room she didn't remember coming to of her own accord. She closed her eyes and opened them again hoping this was some weird dream she was having. When she opened them the room stayed the same forcing her to accept that this was no dream.

Something was terribly wrong; the knot forming in her stomach confirmed it. Using what little strength she could muster, she tried to pull herself up, realizing to her horror that it wasn't possible. The reason her arms felt so heavy was because they were tightly bound by rope. With her eyes, she traced the origin of the ropes only to see that they were tied to two very thick imposing posts situated at the head of the bed. Her horror increased when she realized she was completely naked except the flimsy excuse of a sheet that barely covered her breasts.

Fighting a growing sense of panic she tested the strength of the bonds. They were tied much too tightly for her to get out of. Desperately she tried to wiggle her hands out of the intricate knots around her wrists only to lose some of the valuable sheet that covered her body. It inched its way down to her ribs. Her plan of escape wasn't working and she struggled to breathe through the panic consuming her. Where in the hell was she? Why was she tied up?

The last memory she had was of Dillon. Guiltily, she remembered the daring plan she had executed without thought of the consequences. Well that's not entirely true, she had thought of the consequences, she had just chosen to ignore them. Breaking and entering into his mother's house to seek revenge probably hadn't been one of her smartest ideas.

Wild-eyed and cruising towards a massive panic attack as the bleakness of her situation hit her, she felt the warm salty wetness of tears falling on her cheeks. Surely someone had to know she was missing, at the very least, her husband Mark would be looking for her.

But if this was Dillon's doing, Mark wouldn't even have a clue where to look for her. It was her fault, she was beyond stupid. Putting aside the fact that the man had taken her against her will, he was a stranger, a total and complete stranger that she had no link to whatsoever. The queen of safety had just fallen off her throne.

She didn't even know if she was technically missing, she had no clue what day it was or what she had been doing last. Whatever she had consumed must have really knocked her for a loop if she couldn't remember what day it was.

Her nipples puckered as the cool air hit them; wiggling uselessly, she tried in vain to snuggle back under the sheet. It was no use. The sheet wouldn't budge without the use of her hands. She tried to ignore the goose bumps dotting her arms, but they traveled gleefully over her skin leaving behind an uncomfortable prickly sensation in their wake. Wishing she knew what the hell was going on, Isabelle concentrated on figuring a way out of this situation.

It was obvious she would not be able to get her hands free anytime soon. It seemed like the harder she pulled the tighter the ropes became, frustrating her to no end. She looked down to see that two more posts were at the foot of the bed, also with ropes attached to them. Thankfully those were not attached to her legs otherwise she would be totally freaking out. At least with part of her body free she stood a chance of escaping.

Her arms were starting to ache with her efforts. Giving up for the moment, she turned onto her side, using what little slack was available to change her position. Staring dejectedly at the prison which she now found herself, she pondered her options, slim as they were. She could continue to struggle with the ropes binding her, or wait out the person who held her.

Given that the ropes hadn't budged the entire time, the answer was clear. She had to wait and conserve her strength. Closing her eyes, she huddled under what was left of the sheet covering her and tried to stay warm. She attempted to take a fitful nap, having a hard time getting comfortable with her arms shackled above her.

An insistent voice that wasn't her own woke her from near sleep and immediately all thoughts of a nap disappeared.

Sweet dreams Isabelle.

Isabelle struggled to come to a semi-upright position, looking around the murky room for the source of the voice. She was positive she had heard something. Only it was so soft and far away she couldn't be sure. There was no one else in the room that she could see and the room had the stillness that could only come with vacancy. She held her breath and listened for the sound of another person breathing but there was only silence, heavy, thick silence that seemed to grow with the shadows.

"Hello?" she called out. Her voice was tinny against the absolute silence.

I'm here.

"Where?" she cried out in frustration.

Isabelle shook her head to clear it, sure that something was wrong. She could almost swear that she had heard the answer to her first question in her head because she couldn't be absolutely sure that the voice had spoken out loud. She cocked an ear to listen for an answer and gasped when it came.

Right here.

Isabelle felt a rush of heat so intense she had to close her eyes and bite her lip to stop from moaning. The warmth traveled from her head down to her toes, leaving every hair standing on end.

The searing heat didn't stop there. It continued to travel through her entire body until it reached her heart, where strangely enough, it felt as if it was being held by two strong arms, as if she had just been hugged on the inside. It was so strange, the loveliest feelings were coursing through her bloodstream but she still had no idea what was happening.

Feel what you do to me.

There it was again, that voice that only she could hear. Maybe she was losing her mind. She certainly felt like it. Hearing voices certainly qualified one as at least somewhat mentally ill. Right now she wouldn't be surprised if they showed up to cart her away in a straitjacket.

"What do I do to you?" She called out in response, reasoning that if she was losing her mind, she should at least try to find out why before it was too late.

You drive me crazy with desire and make me feel things I shouldn't feel. Like this, and this.

Isabelle felt every syllable with a longing so intense she almost cried out. Her nipples puckered and turned extremely sensitive. Her insides turned to mush and her body contracted involuntarily. This definitely wasn't happening. She was having a hallucination brought on by the drugs given to her, a very sexually charged hallucination.

"This isn't real. I'm going to sleep now and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop bothering me. NOW," she emphasized. Isabelle felt more than a little stupid talking to some phantom voice only she could hear in her head, but it was imperative that she put a stop to this nonsense. She was simply having a bad trip or whatever it is that happens when you consume too many drugs.

Closing her eyes she did her best to huddle under the sheet. After an eternity of trying to talk herself out of her delusions, she finally drifted off.

Sleep good Isabelle, you're going to need it,

the voice whispered deep in her mind.

*****

Isabelle opened her eyes several hours later to a completely darkened room. She shook her head in amusement at her one and only experience with hallucinogens. Hearing voices, really. She must have had a hefty dose of drugs if she was hearing voices. She almost laughed out loud until she felt the heavy weight of another presence in the room. Hearing voices in her head was the least of her problems. She had a real live problem waiting for her here.

Quickly she turned her head to locate the source. Scanning the room for another person proved fruitless for she could see no one. It had grown dark and there were no lights on in her dim prison but she didn't doubt for one second that someone was there. She knew that given time her eyes would adjust to the darkness, but the presence waiting for her didn't allow her the luxury of time.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice husky from lack of use and slightly shrill, belying her underlying panic.

The quiet in the room only increased and she held her breath trying to hear something, anything that would give her a clue as to who was in the room with her. A clock chimed somewhere in the house, signaling the time and breaking the yawning silence. It was ten o'clock in the evening, of what day she wasn't sure. She only knew that it was late and she had no idea where she was or who was keeping her here. Well, no, she had a pretty good idea but it wasn't like Dillon to keep her waiting for this long.

She called out again but received no answer. Feeling more than a little desperate she tried once more to loosen her bonds, but whoever had tied her up had obviously not studied knot tying on the internet like she had.

She stilled on the bed deciding to change her strategy. She would not give in to the fear that was clawing up her throat. She would think logically and rationally.

Obviously this was no random kidnapping. Given the dangerous game she had been playing with Dillon it seemed only logical that he had the best motive to want to get back at her. It was just like him to do something so completely outrageous; something that he must have known instinctively would cause her fear.

But why wouldn't he answer her? Surely by now he must have sensed his victory and was just waiting for the right moment to lord it over her. A tingle of apprehension slithered down her spine at the distant notion that it could be someone else. No, he was just making her sweat it out. Please let that be it, she prayed. She decided to test out her theory by calling out his name.

"Dillon? Is that you? Please answer me." Her voice came out sounding way more desperate than she would have liked.

She heard what sounded like a sharp intake of breath coming from the sitting area to her left. She turned her head towards the sound, hoping that she could catch a glimpse of who was there. The thick curtains ensured that no outside light would get in to help her. It was still too dark to see the figure situated in the shadows, but she knew someone was there.

"Please, whoever you are, I have to use the bathroom. Please." Isabelle had said it as a ruse but she really did need to use the facilities. She had no idea how long she had been kept here, but her bladder was telling her it had been an eternity.

"Close your eyes." A robot-like voice erupted from the corner she had been watching. It was obviously not a human voice. Whoever was holding her was intent on not letting his identity be known even to the point of disguising his voice. The knowledge sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

She closed her eyes most of the way, hoping he, she was pretty sure it was a male, wouldn't notice the slight opening in the darkness. She heard him come towards the bed and tilted her head upwards slightly to try and see him.

What she saw gave her more reasons to be afraid, not less. His face was covered in a mask, his eyes barely visible and only because they glinted dangerously in the dark. Everything else was a blur of black. When his hands reached for her bonds, she saw that they were covered in black gloves as well. She swallowed convulsively to keep the bile from coming up her throat and tried not to think about what those gloves meant.

Before she could catch her breath, a rough cloth came over her eyes and was tied tightly behind her head. He wasn't gentle as he lifted her head to accomplish his task. Because she could no longer try and glean clues about her attacker through sight, her other senses soon took over.

A faint whiff of cologne assailed her nostrils along with the remnants of a familiar soap. At least he was clean; the inane thought came and went. She could feel the roped muscles of his arms brush her chest as they worked the knots around her wrist. But the rest of him was a mystery as he held himself stiffly over her.

A clinking noise snapped her out of her silent reverie. Cold steel clamped over her wrist along with a long chain that clanked against the bedpost. What the hell was going on?

Weakly, she flexed her hand, wincing as the feeling came back in a rush. He moved to her other wrist and quickly undid the knot. He didn't lock a cuff over that wrist, leaving her to wonder what he had planned.

"You can use the bathroom now. It's through the door on the left." The distinctly non-human voice grated out. Before she could get out a reply, she heard the door open, a light switch flick on and the soft snick of the door closing as her kidnapper slipped out.

Isabelle's legs shook as she moved to get off of the bed. She gripped the edges of the bed before attempting to walk, trying to gauge her strength. Using her free hand-the chain around her wrist felt too heavy to lift-she pushed the blindfold up, blinking in the now blinding light. She felt so weak it made her wonder how long she had been tied up in bed. Finally, she felt strong enough to try to stand, keeping her free hand on the bed in case she wasn't.

Thankfully her legs held and she made her way to the door on the left. She was in too much of a hurry to make use of the facilities that she didn't pay attention to the chain on her wrist; she was too grateful at this point to care.

In the bathroom, toilet paper and a measly bar of soap, along with a sadly worn hand towel were the only meager contents available. After making use of the facilities and washing her face and hands, she studied her haggard reflection in the mirror, wincing at the tangled mess of honey brown hair that barely graced her shoulders. She dragged her fingers through it in an attempt to tame it but the only thing that was going to help was a shower and a blow dryer.

Her eyes were still one of her best features but they bore the faint imprint of sleep and vague shadows underneath that only served to highlight the lines forming at the corners. She studiously ignored looking at her naked figure, even though she knew it was still okay by most men's standards. She snorted. Standards, right. Give a man a few beers and suddenly even the ugliest woman could get lucky.

Her breasts, while large and full, sagged where they should have stood proudly at attention and her stomach would always have that little pooch that said she'd had a kid or two. She refused to address her hips and ass and managed to leave the room before she had a nervous breakdown.

Back in the bedroom, she took note of the chain and what it was attached to. Her kidnapper had kindly left her enough room to move to the bathroom but not enough to make it to the windows or the bedroom door. Like the ropes, the chain was attached to the heavy bedpost.

The bed had to weigh at least five hundred pounds, at the minimum. She knew that in her sorry state, she wouldn't have been able to get the chain loose even if the bed had only weighed twenty pounds. Shit, just lifting the chain around her wrist seemed like too much in her deteriorated condition. He must have drugged her. That had to be why she was so tired and sluggish.

Still, she looked around to see if anything could be used as a weapon against him. She paid no attention to her nakedness, there was nothing she could do about it now and worrying about it would only slow her escape.

The dresser tops were devoid of any personal items just as the bathroom had been. Quickly, she opened the dresser drawers hoping to find something to aid in her escape, but she was disappointed at the selection. Besides a few socks and t-shirts, there was nothing.

She grabbed a t-shirt and was about to put it on when she realized the chain was going to be a hindrance. She tested the strength of the fabric and was pleased when it ripped down the side seam. She finished ripping it up to the arm using her teeth to tear the arm portion off then slipped her other arm into the other hole. As far as coverings went, it was pretty lame as it left her whole right side exposed, but it was better than nothing at this point.

She moved to the armoire and opened the cupboard. The TV that normally sat there had been moved, the dust outlining its usual position hadn't even been cleaned up. The rest of the electronics that she assumed had occupied the lower shelves were also missing.

Frantically she opened the bottom drawers, but they too had been cleaned out. She was running out of time and had found nothing for her efforts.

The sitting area proved to be a fruitless waste of time as well, the chairs were too big and sturdy for her to lift and there was nothing that she could use to throw at the windows.

Turning she caught sight of another door next to the bathroom. Breathing hard and moving even faster now she ran towards it. She cried in disappointment when it opened up into a walk-in closet that had been stripped of everything except a box in the corner. Without thinking she headed towards the box, only to realize that her chain allowed her to enter only halfway. She let out a short grunt as the chain stopped her progress.

Frustrated, pissed as hell and more scared than she wanted to admit, she left the closet, slamming the door on her way out, no longer caring if he heard. It was apparent that Dillon had planned this well in advance. He was taking no chances that she could escape.

Her hands on her hips, Isabelle surveyed the room one more time. If she could regain some of her strength it might be possible for her to drag the bed towards the window, but until that happened she would have to rely on her wits, such as they were, at this point.

Without warning the light flicked off, leaving her standing in the dark again. Disoriented and fearful, she groped her way towards the bed. She clambered back onto it and pulled the sheet over her, hoping for even its slim protection.

"Put the blindfold back on." The disembodied voice echoed in the room.

Isabelle didn't waste any time obeying the order. Waiting to find out what was going to happen was sometimes worse than the actual event and she was tired of waiting to find out her fate. After fumbling in the dark for the blindfold, she slipped it back over her eyes leaving a small portion uncovered.

The light clicked back on as he entered the room. The silence in the house allowed her to hear his soft footsteps as he grew near. She held her breath and was certain that he was standing no less than three feet from her, even though in the dark it was hard to gauge the distance. She could hear him breathing and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in instant attention.

She tried to angle her head to the side to catch a peek of him but his hand shot out and gripped her chin, holding her in place and stopping her in her tracks. The leather bound grip was cruel, punishing almost, and she cried out in shock. He immediately loosened his hold but did not release her.