Sarah awoke in a dark dimly lit room, the lone source of light was a dull and flickering bulb hanging from above. The small room could be no more than fifteen feet wide. The old wooden stairs set into the left wall, the cold stone all around. The room was bare except for the lumpy mattress she sat up on. Sarah began to rouse and as she did so, an old and tattered blanket fell from her body..
She inspected herself, examining for any bruises or damage, but found herself in perfectly fine condition. She was a slender woman of thirty. Her long brown hair she normally held in a ponytail lay loose just past her shoulders. Her skin was still soft, albeit covered in some dirt and she had chipped one of her crimson nails. She still wore her professional attire but her shoes, as she noticed now, were off to the side of the mattress.
She paused for a moment to listen, to take in the noises of her surroundings, but she heard nothing. Wherever she was, wherever this basement resided, there was no one around for her to hear. Sarah expected there to be chains, something to hold her in place, to keep her a prisoner to the mattress she lay on; yet all she saw now were the metal anchor points embedded deeply into the wall where one could be chained. Why wasn't she? Her mind raced trying to make sense of her situation and the more she thought of it, the more she realized she had been kidnapped and the more the panic and fear began to set in. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, beads of sweat forming along her hairline. Was this a panic attack? Her eyes widened as she looked around in a hurry; her mind processing the empty room until it settled on the old plain wooden door atop the wooden stairs.
Before she could think, she raced up the creaky stairs reaching desperately for the knob of the door. As she reached it, a realization came to her. It would be locked. Of course it would. Who would kidnap and trap someone in a basement and leave the door unlocked? As her reality began to set in, her hope began to fade and her mind continued to race; yet her hand still reached for the knob, obeying its original directive to twist in futility. The knob turned and the wooden door flung away from her.
As the door flew open at alarming speed, her eyes were met with a burning and blinding sensation. As they swiftly adjusted to the brighter lighting of this room, Sarah was met with the most peculiar of sights. This room was of similar size to the previous but the walls were draped in plastic tarp, as though out of a gory horror movie. Across from her she locked eyes with an older man who sat still on an old wooden chair. As she took in his visage her eyes darted to look behind him where only a foot behind was the frame and image of a door, obscured by the opaque nature of the tarp backdrop behind the man.
The man leaned slightly forward in the old wooden chair. He wasn't slim, but he wasn't heavy either; nor was he muscled as one might expect. His raven hair was combed to the side and the black beard on his face was trimmed and well kept. He wore a black shirt, black jeans, and a pair of dark heavy looking boots. On any other day she may have found him attractive and handsome, but tonight he stood between her and her survival and that made him a threat.
In the moment, Sarah's brain also took in her surroundings and what she saw caused her to pause. Any surprise she may have had over her captor, gone in her hesitation. On the left wall were all manner of toys and sexual instruments of varying sizes and colors that hung from different pegs that protruded from the wall. On the right wall hung a heavy set of steel chains that were bolted to the wall at varying distances, enough to entrap someone by their wrists and ankles. A few feet from the right wall, closer to the center, hung a steel ring from a hard point in the ceiling.
Her pause gave enough time for the eerie man to stand. He was at least a half a foot taller than her average height of five feet and four inches. Strangely, the man did not move. Sarah had waited long enough, and she felt her instincts to fight rising with her. Seizing the feeling of her beating heart and the adrenaline coursing through her, Sarah rushed the man with animalistic instinct and prowess; years of evolution honed into a moment as she darted towards him.
It happened quicker than she realized it would, yet in some strange way as if she was watching a movie in slow motion. As she reached the tall man, she went to hit him over the side of the head with her hands, instinct guiding her to his temple, but he caught her wrist. His strong grip held her wrist as she tried to pull away instinctively before he released her a moment later. Sarah stepped back, fear beginning to bubble inside her, the knowing feeling of being overpowered aching through her muscles. She ran for the wall to the left, picking up the biggest toy she could find in the second she had; life depending on it. She settled on a large and somewhat strange shaped dildo; two feet long with a cup at the base. The near solid silicone, phallus shaped toy meant for pleasure, was hefty and sturdy and Sarah grabbed it near the head like a weapon; feeling the molded veins pressed against her now shaking hands. She rushed at the man again.
She had a brilliant idea. She would swing for the man's head and as he went to dodge or grab the large dildo she would strike him at the weakest of places every man carries; his balls. Surely this would crumble any man and she could escape. As she planned, Sarah swung for his head and as if she had foreseen the encounter the man dodged. Perfect! She went for a kick right to the groin but she had failed to account for the man using her own swinging momentum to now get behind her. In a brief flash, the man was now behind her, pinning her arms at her side in a burly bear hug. Sarah flung her head back hoping to strike the man in the face with the base of her skull, but nothing connected. She stamped her feet against his, but he seemed to feel nothing of her strikes against his boots. She was losing, and she was in danger.
The fear began to surge in her more than before. This was it. She had missed her moment to escape and now was clutched in a tight squeeze. She could feel her heart racing, her lungs aching for more oxygen, and her brain racing quicker as more panic began to set in. Yet, for all her heightened state, a calm and grounding voice came from behind her. It was that of the man's and it was firm, unyielding. "Wait a second." "Calm down." "Breathe slower." He was trying to calm her. Of course he was. He meant to kill her. He meant her mortal danger and she would fight him. Surely that's what he meant, but what if it wasn't? She had attacked him without giving him a moment to explain. Why wouldn't she? Sarah had woken up in a creepy basement. Though, she hadn't been chained, she remembered. The door wasn't even locked. Maybe he really didn't mean her any harm she thought, momentarily weakening in his arms.
As the thoughts raced within her, Sarah calmed herself but did not yield entirely, keeping herself alert. A moment later the man's voice came again, just as strong and firm as before. "My name's Mark. I'm gonna let you go if you agree not to swing that thing at me." Sarah nodded and the man's frightfully tight arm lock slacked and she was able to pull herself forward and away from him; turning swiftly to face him but keeping the large phallic member firm in her hands between them both.