Alex woke up naked. It wasn't the first time—living in Florida tended to push you to sleep like that—but with the "cold front" that had pushed through the night before, the low sixties had forced him to at least keep his gym shorts on. He wasn't really in the habit of stripping in his sleep, though, didn't even
talk
in his sleep. Rubbing his eyes, Alex slowly sat up, letting the quilt and bed sheets fall down around him to let the cool air pleasantly caress him. He looked down, frowned, and then the other shoe dropped. He didn't own a quilt, didn't use bed sheets, and his mattress wasn't that soft. This wasn't his bed.
Darting his eyes around, he quickly confirmed two things: this definitely wasn't his room, and he was alone. He'd been expecting to see some kind of creepy figure watching him, waiting to kill and eat him or something. Instead, he found himself in a dimly lit, modestly decorated room, not much bigger than his bedroom at home. At the far end of the room was a door, shut for the moment. The floor was carpeted, and the walls were clean and painted beige. It could've been a hotel room, for all he knew. There were no clothes that he could see, but to his right was some kind of wooden cabinet or wardrobe. Carefully getting up, holding the quilt around him, he quietly walked to the wardrobe and reached out to open it.
He nearly jumped back into the bed when the wardrobe door opened automatically, a quiet whir of some unseen electric motor sounding off in the background. In the closet were some drawers on the left and a few sets of clothes hanging on the right. A quick look revealed that the hanging clothes were all the same: a black T-shirt and blue jeans. "It's like a cartoon character's closet," Alex muttered to himself, breaking into a reluctant smile, "should I go with
A
, or
B
? No no, I think
C
is the right choice." He checked for a label, but there was nothing. Shrugging, trying to play off the growing unease, he pulled out a shirt and tried it on. Worryingly, it fit perfectly. At six foot two inches and less than two hundred pounds, he usually found it hard to find T-shirts that weren't either too baggy or too short for him. It was pretty comfortable, too. After a second of processing this, he tried on the jeans. Same story. A perfect fit, as relaxed and soft as if he'd worn and washed them a hundred times. Realizing he'd skipped right past any underwear, Alex pulled open the top drawer. Socks. He tried the next drawer. Shorts, similar to the gym shorts he wore at home, with a liner inside. Grabbing a pair and setting them aside, he opened the bottom drawer. This time he did back away to the bed, his heart starting to race and the lump in his stomach beginning to churn.
The drawer was filled with sex toys. Vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, lube... a whole assortment of sexual paraphernalia filled the drawer nearly to the rim. There were handcuffs and blindfolds. There were male masturbators, in the shape of mouths and pussies and assholes. It was a damn adult superstore, all in one drawer. Alex was suddenly conscious of the sound of the ocean, roaring in his ears. With a start, he realized it was his own heartbeat as his fear and adrenaline went into overdrive. Questions were racing through his head. Was he in some kind of sex compound? Was he a prisoner, or a guest? How had he gotten here? The unease that had been roiling in his gut rose inside him and was quickly building into a full panic attack—.
There was a polite knock at the bedroom door. Snapping to face it, the fear was suppressed by a moment of confusion. Even in the middle of fearing for his life, the instinct of years of boring, everyday normality had conditioned him so much that he actually found himself calling out, "wh-who is it?"
"It's Emily," came the answer, in a soft, feminine voice.
Alex was even more confused. He'd known several girls named Emily in his life, but none that would explain the presence of sex toys in a strange room in which he had awoken naked with no memory of how he'd gotten there. For a moment Alex just stared at the door, unsure of what to do.
Another polite knock. "Um, are you okay, Alex?"
So this Emily at least knew who he was. "It sounds like you know me, but I don't think I know an "Emily" who would kidnap me and put me in some kind of hotel room or something against my will,
after
stripping me naked." There was a small giggle behind the door, and some distant memories started to shake the dust off in the back of his mind. "Gray?" he said.
"Let me in, Alex," she laughed, "I'll answer some questions for you."
He thought about it for a second, then asked "which unit are you in?"
"Delta company, in Jacksonville."
With that Alex got up, slowly walked to the door, and reached out to what looked like the handle. Only to have the door, once again, open automatically. There in front of him was Emily Gray. She was about a foot shorter than him, and on the thinner side—he vaguely remembered that she was a fitness nut, big into yoga or CrossFit or something. She was a bright blonde and had a slightly darker complexion that implied hours of sun bathing. She was wearing gray yoga pants and a black top that left her flat mid-riff exposed. Alex found himself staring at her belly button, which was pierced with a stud with a sea-green stone. Memories of her past at his unit began to push to the forefront of his mind.
"Hey Alex, is that for me?" She looked down and laughed, and Alex was suddenly aware of the erection that was straining against his borrowed pair of jeans.
"Oh, Emily!" his face turned bright red. "N-no! I was just—."
"Well, you'll have to wait a minute, you wanted answers first." Emily pushed past Alex with a laugh and crossed over to his bed. She cast a knowing look at the partially open bottom drawer, turned to face him, and sat smiling on his bed. She pulled one of her bare feet up to nest on her lap, the sea-green toenails catching his eye. "Okay, go ahead."
"Where are we?" Alex was surprised how quickly the question came to him, with the shock of the last few minutes still lying like a fog on his mind.
"Oof. Started with a hard one." She giggled, "well, I guess the real hard one started when you first saw me." She stopped laughing and got a more serious look on her face, though a smile remained in her eyes. "May I see it?"
This was all just a bit much for Alex. While he was no virgin, sex wasn't something that came around very often for him. He knew his way around his own right hand way more than he did the curves and softness of a woman. Worse, that he was talking to Emily Gray of all people made things even harder for him. She'd been a soldier at his reserves unit, but got a bad reputation for sleeping around and causing trouble, especially with the married soldiers. Eventually she'd moved units to avoid any more drama. Alex had never contributed to the gossip and rumors, but he'd always listened intently, wishing that he'd been part of the stories, and enjoy the sexual prowess that she apparently had. And now she wanted him to pull out his penis.
"Uh, see what?" he asked lamely.
Emily rolled her eyes and got up, walking over to him. "Your dick." She gently grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bed with her. "Your cock. Your member." She turned him around and pushed him back onto the bed. "I want to see that famous big penis of yours."
Alex groaned. The "big penis" story had been an urban myth at the unit for years, started by some of the guys after a few too many beers. "Listen, Gray, it's just a unit joke, I'm not—."
Her hand was already stroking him through his pants. She hooked her cute fingers (had they always looked that dainty?) on his waistband, then seemed to finally notice his protests. "Do you want answers, or not?" she demanded, pushing a lock of hair out of her hazel eyes. "We're not in Kansas anymore, and there are certain ways of doing things here, okay?" Looking into her serious face, he suddenly realized she'd gotten a nose stud since he'd last seen her—sea-green, like her nails and other piercings.
He shook his head to focus. "Okay, but seriously, what are you going to do?"
"Well," she said triumphantly, "I think I'm going to give you a hand job while we talk. And—wow!" she pulled his jeans down around his ankles and laughed as his dick sprang towards her. "And maybe more later. Just a hand job for now, can't really tell you anything with your cock in my mouth, can I?" And with that she began to stroke his penis.
Her touch was electric, and he was putty in her hands. As she knelt at his feet, pulling and caressing his dick like a pro, it occurred to him that she probably
was
a pro at this, and he was finally getting his wish to get some action with her. Still, there were some questions he needed answered, so he tried valiantly to push through the pleasure. "Where are we?"
"So that's hard to explain." She locked eyes with him, working her small hands up and down his shaft, gently cupping his balls and massaging them. "We're in some kind of weird hotel. No windows, no exit doors. Well," she stopped for a second to think, laughing at Alex's reaction, "they've got those sci-fi kind of windows, that's basically a tv screen showing nature landscapes outside. But there's no way of knowing exactly where we are. And no leaving." And, as if that settled that question, she turned back to the wardrobe and craned from her kneeling position to grab something from the bottom drawer. She returned with what looked like a bottle of lube. "This will make things a little easier," she teased, applying some to her hands and beginning to pleasure him again. "Anything else?"
"You seem a little calm for someone who knows she's a prisoner." Alex barely got out, the waves of desire crashing through his body. Oh god, had she just kissed the tip of his dick? It took all the self-control he had to not pull her up and begin having his way with her.
"What can I say? Maybe this is my stress relief. Besides,
one
of us has to enjoy this hand job."
