Idnapped -

Sophia

Shadows shifted and Sophia paused to glance behind her as a cold breeze drifted off the canal. The distant sounds of nightlife echoed faintly around stone-capped buildings. She eyed the darkness, trying to detect movement. Her heartbeat thundering in her ears. A shiver ran up her spine. A crack, and Sophia whipped her head towards the sound; a bike was lying, still wobbling, on the ground clearly having tipped over in the breeze.

Paranoid, thought Sophia. She was being paranoid. The handsome stranger's face flashed through her mind and she took a stabilizing inhale. She lamented today's heightened anxiety, but also enjoyed the intoxicating adrenaline. Cool air brushed her skin as heat flooded Sophia's body. She pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it before continuing her walk. Smoke caressed her lips as she blew out and Sophia appreciated its sensuality. The second one tonight, naughty girl.

It had been a rough day. Sophia didn't exactly need her coworkers to like her- only to respect her, maybe envy her just a bit- but still, it would have been nice to be invited out with them. Sophia acknowledged she wasn't the life of the party but, she bitterly thought, diversity brought interest to the group. Sure, she was a bit stiff, and felt awkward and overly self-aware when she was with most people, and she knew it was her serious attitude that had gotten her into a management role at her accounting firm but... it would have been nice to be invited out. She focused back on the night around her.

Sophia had a creeping sensation the rest of her walk home and she was grateful to finally closed her front door behind her. She poured herself a glass of wine, sat heavily on her couch and considered the day. Work. Lunch alone. Class. Dinner alone. And outside the pub, that man. He had been her one highlight of the day.

She had been been standing outside the restaurant enjoying a post-dinner cigarette when a resonant male voice drawled from behind her,

"Can I bum a smoke?"

Sophia had spun to face the stranger and met his dark eyes. They pulled at her attention with a potency from which she couldn't turn away. Sophia tapped out a cigarette, paused, and held it out to him. The space between them was deep and quiet, but charged with a sense of magnetism. The man's fingers grazed her skin as he plucked the cigarette out of her care. Sophia imagined his fingers grazing intimate places: the ghost of a caress on the back of her arm, a trailing finger on the inside of her knee. A beat passed before Sophia tore her eyes from his and, blushing, rummaged around in her pocket to offer him a light. She held it out to the man only to discover he'd already produced a black zippo - with a skull on the side? Sophia scoffed internally. That was overkill on the bad-boy aesthetic in her opinion. Gorgeous eyes or not, she wasn't going to jump into bed with someone tacky. She felt her blush deepen and became shamefully aware of her body. Jump into bed?

"Thanks," said the man.

"You're welcome," replied Sophia. She put her cigarette out and into the disposal bin, turned on her heels, and fled into the night. All he'd asked for was a cigarette, not a shag. Not an awkward girl fantasizing about a shag. Despite her embarrassment, it occurred to Sophia that he had met her gaze for as long as she had met his.

Sophia thought about jumping into bed with him now, tacky lighter or not, unrequested or not. There had been something electric in the space between them. His attention had been unwavering on her. She imagined that gaze sinking between her legs. Imagined that sensuous mouth teasing her most sensitive area. His warm mouth on her delicate skin. Sophia took a sip of her wine and revelled in the taste.

She would text Arthur tomorrow. She wouldn't call tonight because it wasn't her style to booty call last-minute. The better approach, in her opinion, was to instead plan a late-night rendezvous with enough notice for all parties to plan and primp appropriately. She sighed. It would have been nice to have a warm body in her bed tonight but that wasn't what her arrangement with Arthur was like. Unless fate intervened by sending a hot man directly to her home tonight, now that was a delicious thought to enjoy, tomorrow would have to do.

Marco

Marco didn't like this part of an abduction. First, it was the most likely time for something to go wrong. You heard about even seasoned pros getting caught by a passer kk by with a sharp eye and strong intuition for bad business. You felt the most exposed when you were out on a job like this. Second, you saw the target's home. You saw their shoes piled in the entry, their rumpled sheets, their interests and hobbies. You saw the things that made them relatable. Marco figured he must secretly be a romantic to get soft at the first sign of a family picture. But it could make the job harder, later on, so he didn't like it.

This particular job was already pulling on his heart strings more than usual. He wasn't sure why he'd stopped at the restaurant, asked her for a cigarette when he didn't smoke. She'd lingered after her meal and watched the pedestrians pass. Her expression had been distant and she looked lonely. How someone as busy as this lady could be lonely, Marco didn't know, but her lit figure had been a sirens call. He's imagined putting her in his mouth when he'd taken that cigarette and he was sure he hadn't imagined the responding heat in her gaze.

Marco watched her window now. Watched the glass pane slide open a few inches and the inside light blink out. He sat silent and invisible behind the tinted window of the car, and watched the house. His partner for this job, Roman, sat beside him, equally still, equally silent. An hour passed, then two, then three. The street outside grew quiet with the calm of the late night. It started to rain. At 2:30AM, Roman looked at him and Marco nodded. It was time.

Roman donned his rain hat and carefully eased into the night, closing the car door softly behind him without triggering the latch. He ambled up to the house and pulled his pants down to take a piss under the shelter of the building's overhang. Just any other guy. He pulled his pants up, cinched his belt, walked past the bedroom window, down the block, and disappeared into the gloom. Ten minutes later, Roman slid back into the front seat of the car and nodded at Marco.

This time, both the men got out of the car and made their way to the front door. Marco crouched down and picked the front lock while Roman kept look-out. The door swung open easily and they stepped indoors, shutting the door with a soft click behind them. Marco surveyed the room. It was a one-bedroom apartment with an open living and dining space. It was tidy and classically decorated except an elaborate mirror that looked like an art-deco sun over the couch. The small kitchen bar held a vase of flowers. The space smelled vaguely of mint.

Marco focused his attention on the door to the bedroom and approached it silently. Held his ear to listen for wakefulness on the other side. Silence. He opened it slowly and stood in the gap for a moment looking into the dark room. He could sense Roman standing near the front door. They had a well established rhythm to their job. Each had a role to play, a task to complete. At 6'2", Marco's task was to complete the majority of the physically demanding tasks. Specifically, transporting the target the short but risky distance from the house to the van.

Now that he was in here, Marco wasn't worried about waking her. Roman's walk-by 15 minutes earlier had allowed him to lob an open canister of gaseous anesthesia into the bedroom through her habitually open window. The dose was high enough to knock a large man out for a few hours - Marco knew this because they'd tested the drug on him first. No, the risk lay in someone else spotting them. The hour alone was enough to raise flags in most observers. To mitigate risk, he'd brought a large box to hide the girl inside. The cardboard exterior, fortified by a plywood frame inside, pictured a chest freezer. It would explain the size and apparent weight, if they happened to be seen or pulled over.

Marco set the box beside the girl's bed. Sophia, he thought as he looked down at her face. She was beautiful. The cold mannerisms he'd witnessed earlier in the restaurant were softened by sleep. Marco bent over, sweeping the duvet off her and laying it inside the cardboard box. She wore a long sleeping shirt and slept spread out like a starfish on her back. Marco had the sudden urge to make her his, not some other man's ransom. Marco shook his head, dispelling the vibrant desire. He squatted down and, one arm under her shoulders, the other arm under her knees, picked her up off the bed with an exaggerated exhale. She was surprisingly heavy. He carefully set her inside the box, being sure not to bump her lolling head. His hand lingered on her check and swept her hair off her face.

Ten minutes later, Marco and Roman were back in the vehicle. Sophia was secured in the back of the van, packed in with a variety of large kitchen appliances. Marco started the car, a silent hybrid vehicle and they slid softly into the night.

Sophia

Sophia nestled further into her duvet. Her head felt thick with fog, sleep difficult to shake off this morning. Why was she so tired? Consciousness lay at the top of a long climb out of heavy sleep. She should go for a run, the cold morning air would wake her up. Sophia took a deep, relaxed breath of warm, humid air. Why did it smell vaguely of paint, she wondered, before drifting back to sleep.

When she woke next, her head was less clouded but still strangely muffled. Her mouth tasted like cotton. Her bed felt off. Warm, metallic and chemical-scented air filled her nostrils. That wasn't right. Her house didn't smell like that and always cracked her window. The air should be fresh with the Autumnal scents of falling leaves and a crisp breeze bouncing off old stone. She blinked her eyes open, and stopped breathing.

The room was not her bedroom. It wasn't even her house. The walls were grey concrete and light streamed through a tiny window set at least 8 feet up the wall. Her heart pounded in her ears and her vision blurred. Sophia closed her eyes, feeling treacherously nauseous. She tried to keep her breathing steady despite the constant reminder of her alien surroundings seeping in with every breath. Tried not to have a panic attack. Trying. Trying. Her brain felt stuffy. She couldn't think straight. She focused on her duvet. Her familiar, safe duvet. She kept her eyes closed until her breathing slowed and her head started to clear. Then she listened. She could hear faint muffles from the distance but nothing close by. No immediate danger. She released a breath out, and sat up.

The room was bare except for a chair and small table in one corner. There were two doors in the wall. One was wooden, and slightly ajar. The other was metal. Sophia's brain slowly tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The metal door had no handle. No. Handle. Buzzing filled her ears, then ringing.Heat trickled up her spine. She took deep breaths trying again to avoid the panic attack. Trying. Trying. And failing. Sophia's breath grew shallow and ragged as panic gripped her. Its spiny tendrils scratched across her consciousness, slowly ripping her apart. Her soul, her organs--she could feel them ripping and scattering into animalistic fear- that a creature trapped in a cage. Her awareness narrowed down to one word, repeated in anguished torment, drumming inside her skull: no. No, no, no, no, no.

Suddenly, she became aware of a hand gripping her arm and a voice beckoning her from the land of the living. A man's voice, deep and resonant. It echoed through the swirl of dark chaos in her mind and calmed the storm. Her awareness of space expanded out of her body and contracted to the familiar eyes of the man from the restaurant.

Marco

"Sophia? Yes. Look at me, Sophia. No one is going to hurt you. You're okay. No one is going to hurt you."

Marco sat on the bed beside a seated but curled in and shaking Sophia. Sweat soaked her skin and her open but unseeing eyes relayed deep panic. He looked into those eyes and gripped her arm firmly. He reached up and brushed one damp strand of hair from her face as her breath slowed and the shaking stopped. He noticed her focus shift to him. Marco picked up the cup of water beside the bed and gave it to Sophia. Her fingers trembled slightly but she took it and drank. Slowly at first, then deeply, and let the glass fall empty to the mattress. She looked around at the room, her arms limp at her side and still at the edge of panic judging by the gulping breaths she was taking. Marco watched her eyes closely. The anesthesia could take some time to wear off completely once the person woke and indeed, he could detect a hazy kind of dullness now that the sharp edge of panic had worn off.

Marco was aware of his hand on her arm. Her skin was soft but muscle made her narrow arm firm. No wonder she had been so heavy. He stroked her skin, soothing. Her eyes fluttered slightly as Sophia turned and stared at him. Her gaze was intoxicating. Meeting them felt like sinking into a pool of silver and moonlight. Marco's fingers slid down her arm to where they hugged her knee then followed the curve of bare leg, enchanted, then snatched his hand away. Seduction was not how to treat a panic attack and that wasn't his purpose here. But when he glanced back up to Sophia, Marco saw that her lips were parted slightly. A ragged breath shuddering out and she stretched out her hands.

Sophia

Sophia reached out to this familiar, strange man who traced fire into her skin. She didn't know where she was, or what had happened, and her brain was still slow to turn instinct into coherent thought, but Sophia was suddenly ravenous, and not for food. His eyes drew her into him, knitting the soul so recently shredded by panic back into something discernable. Whatever was happening, it had clearly happened beyond her consent. She needed a sense of control and she needed to have something she wanted. She was sure this man, startled by their magnetism, would bend himself to her.

Sophia felt vulnerable and scared in this strange place but knew his solid body would calm her anxiety. This man, her man for now, reacted in harmonious concert to her movement. The hand on her thigh scooped her up and she settled onto his lap. She felt his warmth on her bare legs as they draped on either side of him and she felt him pressing into her soft, hot center. She was a fire overflowing with need. She kissed him and the world narrowed into the sensation of his full lips on hers. His scent, clean and woody, filled her as she inhaled him. Their tongues came together, tasting each other, reluctantly coming apart. The kiss was deep and all-consuming; as though they had both been dehydrated and finally found a wellspring in each other.

The man's hands had slipped under her clothes and roamed her skin. The one cupping her ass gripped and pressed her tightly against his groin. His hands were large and rough. They did not have the same gentleness now as she'd sensed when first coming out of her panic attack. It was good; the reassurance of strength was what she needed. Whatever was happening in this foreign room could be ignored so long as the pleasure of this man filled her.

Sophia's own hands scrambled at the man's waist, trying to pull his shirt off. He didn't let her, and it occurred to Sophia that he didn't want to break the kiss. He drew her closer, his hands digging into the round of her ass. She felt desperate for them to be closer still- wanted to sink into him completely and out of this prison. She moaned into his mouth and she felt him breathing in her desire, reflecting it, compounding it. His hand was suddenly at the base of her neck, pulling her hair so her head went back, exposing the sensitive skin of her neck and decolletage. He devoured her baked skin, kissing and sucking and biting. She felt vulnerable to his every whim and her body hummed in response to the sensation. She walked a tightrope line of intimate exposure akin to the adrenaline rush of voyeurism and precise command as she clutched at distraction. She ground her hips against the hardness she could feel through their pants, eliciting a hard bite from him. She moaned.

The hand that had been pulling her to him began to move. He didn't release the pressure but slid his hand up her hip and ribs to cup her breast. His calloused fingertips brushed along her peaked nipple and she shuddered. The hand in her hair pulled her farther back, arching her back. He used the other hand to push her breast past the large scooped neckline of her loose sleeping shirt and his mouth was abruptly on her nipple. He teased and flicked and bit as Sophia's chest rose and fell with the sharp inhales of her arousal.

Pleasure swamped her mind and spread like an ocean of bliss through her body and to her toes. Sophia could stay here forever, spread out on top of this man to be exalted and provoked. She could feel wetness flowing out and soaking her panties. Her toes curled.

The man released her hair, released her other breast which he had considerately matched his teasing of her first breast, and their mouths came together once more. This time, Sophia wiggled back on his lap and reached down to attempt a removal of his pants.

"Such a thirsty little slut" He growled and grabbed her roaming hands to hold behind her back. He reached his free hand to touch the hot point between her legs and groaned at what he found.

"Such a wet and ready slut" He pressed, and she groaned in response shifting forward again to press against his hard chest. He was right. She didn't know if it was the drugs or the abduction but she wanted her cock more than she'd ever wanted anything.

Mouth still greedily on hers, he stood up and Sophia's legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. He reached under her and Sophia heard the clink of a loosening belt. Felt the fabric texture of his clothing disappear to be replaced by smooth, hot flesh. Felt the length of him press against her. Except that her panties were in the way of what she wanted. He ripped them away from her body and she nearly shuddered at the determination of his desire.

Sophia pulled back and looked this man in the eyes. The handsome stranger who'd bummed a cigarette off her and whom she now wanted etching his shape deep inside her body. His returning gaze was intent and he paused in a moment of anticipation as she pulled away. His broad chest heaved and she could feel his cock throbbing against her cool skin. He paused, and looked back at her unwaveringly.

"Please. Please fuck me". She tilted her hips back as he kissed her, inviting him with her body language. He hoisted her higher and sat down on the bed before Sophia lowered onto his erection. The moment of penetration was volcanic and all-encompassing. Sophia's mind swirled with a mixture of his scent, his skin, his need, her need, her pleasure, her sensations, her pleasure building as she rode him. She felt it mounting, ready to crest over her,but she squeezed around the length of him and slowed to thrust his cock deep inside of her. Their bodies ground achingly close. He groaned at the change in pace but only shifted slightly to give her better leverage. Slowly still but picking up speed, she began to ride him. Sophia felt obsessed with having the sex go on for as long as she could manage, and they danced the same dance again, a third time, entwining deeper each rendition. As the pleasure was mounting for the fourth time Sophia gripped the back of his neck and kept thrusting until the orgasm crested with abundance and she was shaking and nearly numb with pleasure. Her body not quite back in her control.