Mature themes. Mature audiences only. Non-consensual themes. Don't read if you can't handle it.
Currently studying how horror/atmospheric and psychological writing works. This is going to be dark. You have been warned.
1
She arched backwards, not knowing what else to do with her body and trying to ease the pressure of him so deep inside her. He caught her cheek and kissed her while the other hand continued to stimulate her, making him come for him over and over again. And while she was shuddering in the afterthroes of ecstacy, he moved and made her orgasm harder.
She knew it wasn't right and that something was wrong, but the intensity of it and how enjoyable it was made her keep losing her track of thought.
Every time she thought it was over, he'd do something to her and she would tremble and shake and cry out loud. She didn't even know his name. Didn't know what he looked like. Only knew his scent, his voice and the feel of him. Cinnamon and cloves. Sandalwood and pepper.
Her eyes rolled back, barely able to handle the strength of her ever heightening and growing orgasm. When he finally allowed her to come down from the highest high she had ever experienced with a relieved sigh, that was when he began to move faster. Harder. Wilder.
She couldn't keep up. The orgasm that she thought had settled down and the needy heat of desire she thought had died for the night was reignited in full force. His grunts, her mewling moans and gasps, the sound of slapping fleshed filled the air. Their combined musky scents, the smell of bodies and fluids leaking, joining, wreathed around them.
When he came, it was with a shout and a strength that made her body lurch, as if she was going to be blasted off his glorious rod with the blasting of his hose. A hot fountain that gushed continuously within her, hitting that sweet spot sending her screaming into the stratosphere and knocking her out.
When she woke up, he had started a new round, but this time it was gentler. Less needy. Less desperate. He ensured she felt every bit of pleasure and stimulation so that she clung to him and wanted to move with him, heightening both their pleasure.
It was a heady and hazy few days filled with lust, satisfaction and pleasure. When the man finally left and she woke up alone, she was relieved. Her body had been unable to take it and she was sure she had a temperature now.
She was glad, too, that he was at least kind enough to have cleaned her and her bedsheets up, so that she didn't have to feel even more uncomfortable than she already did.
2
Pulling the blindfold off, she winced at the light that seemed to blind her. It took a long while to get used to the light again. Slowly, very slowly, she got up on her unsteady legs to plug her mobile phone back in to charge. Then she checked the day and time and was amazed to discover a week had passed and nobody had called to look for her. Granted she was was meant to be on leave at the moment, but still...
Nobody had missed her. She couldn't help feeling a little sad and annoyed at that, but even if they called, she wouldn't have wanted to reply. How was she to tell anybody that a stranger had broken into her apartment, kept her trapped in his arms for a week and that she had enjoyed most of it? She was even wondering if he would come back. There was something seriously wrong with her head to think that way.
Shaken, she wondered if this was a case where she should contact the police and go to the hospital to get a rape kit done. Although she felt weak, sore and trembly all over, she had to keep a grip on herself. Think things through clearly. First, she had to secure her safety.
After contacting a locksmith to come and change the lock on her door so that the stranger wouldn't be able to come in again, she went down to the pharmacy to purchase a morning after pill, although it might not be very effective anymore. So much time had passed. As she exited the pharmacy, a group of people bowled her over as they rushed past. The last man righted her, muttered and apology and then when they were gone, she returned to her apartment to find that her morning after pills had been replaced by multivitamins for pregnant women. Did this mean that the mystery man was watching her?
Why did that send not just a shiver of fear down her spine but a shiver of anticipation as well?
Feeling too sore and tired to cook, she ordered food in but when she opened the door to retrieve the food that had been left there by the courier, she noticed that it wasn't what she had ordered at all. Instead, it was a nutritious soup made for helping people to recover. There was a note in elegant cursive.
Ordering out isn't healthy. If you don't want to cook, I will organise your meals for you.
3
There was no name or signature at the bottom of the note. Whoever the stranger was, he seemed to have decided that he owned her and could dictate what she should and shouldn't eat. She would show him.
When she had recovered.
She sniffed the nutritious soup and raised her eyebrows. Whoever had made this had been a top chef or something. This was the most fragrant of this soup she had ever smelled.
But because it was from a stranger, she didn't dare to eat it. Instead, she decided she would look up on her phone what she should do in a situation like this and buy something to eat on the way to the hospital. Her thumbs and hand holding her mobile phone shook so much that it took more than five minutes just to type her question into the forum she frequented.
[What are you doing looking up what to do on the internet? Are you an idiot?]
[Go immediately to the hospital or call the police before the intruder comes back!]
[Get out of your apartment and go to somewhere safe with lots of people.]
Oh. So her first thoughts weren't wrong. But what should she do if she knew the guy was watching her?
After taking ten minutes to type this question into the forum, the forum server collapsed and the screen turned into a mess of unreadable symbols.
She hurriedly exited the forum and frowned. It seemed that she should indeed hurry to somewhere safer. Before the man watching her could react. He could be monitoring her phone. Better to leave her mobile phone behind.
Grabbing her bag, she rushed into the lift where a strange man was already waiting. She fidgeted uncomfortably but entered when the man stepped aside to make space for her. It looked like the man was going down from upstairs.
She stepped in, the lift door closed and then the world went dark.
When she woke back up in her bed, she rubbed the sore spot on the back of her head and stiff neck. She felt strangely confused.
Wasn't it still morning? Why was it dark outside now? Her stomach growled, amplifying a hollow feeling. Staggering upright, she went out the bathroom to use the toilet and splash water on her face.
Something felt wrong, but she wasn't sure what it was. What had she been doing again? What was she going to do?
She was about to order more takeaway, but her eyes fell on the cold soup on the table and recalled the irritating man who had swapped her delicious meal for something else. In that case, there was no point in ordering more food that would be swapped for something else.
There was a fancy looking new lock on the door. She didn't remember the locksmith coming, but he must have come before she had blacked out. She must have just been too tired or something if she couldn't remember the locksmith's visit. Who knew? Nobody else would have put her into her bed in her pyjamas. She must have done it herself and just couldn't remember because she must have been feeling unwell. She still didn't feel quite right.
Hungry, but can't eat takeaway. Hmm. What could she do to spite the stranger?
Collecting all the junk food in her house to sit in front of the TV to binge watch a television romance drama that she had been planning to catch up on, she munched away, deciding to call this junk food galore a meal. She fell asleep deep into the night to the sound of the television drama outro at the end of an episode and woke up to find herself intertwined with that stranger's scent and body.
She cried out wordlessly, while he bullied her. Vaguely, she felt his departure in the early hours of the morning after he had cleaned both her and the bedroom up. Once he was gone, she tore off the blindfold, huddled under her blanket and wept. She didn't dare make too much noise. She had a feeling that he was somehow still watching her. Those eyes were still on her, although where the gaze was coming from, she wasn't entirely sure.
When she finally got herself under control and managed to get out of bed on her wobbly legs, the mess she had made in the lounge had been cleaned up. Not knowing what else to eat, she opened her cupboards and was horrified to discover her junkfood was gone. All gone. All the reserves of her favourites. Swept clean and replaced with healthier alternatives.
Noooo.
Collapsing onto the couch where she had fallen asleep last night with a wince, she covered her face, wanting to cry. When she turned on her television, she found that all her internet program channels had been child locked and replaced with childrens' channels and documentaries.
She wasn't a child! She wasn't!
On the stove, keeping warm in a vacuum pot was more nutritious soup and some health tonics. In anger, after trying a bowl or two, because she was hungry and thirsty, she poured the rest down the sink in anger at the stranger she hadn't even met trying to control her life. Actually, the taste had been pretty good. After pouring it away, she stared at the drain with some regret.
Her phone should still allow her access to the things she wanted to watch, but when she found her phone, she discovered it wasn't her original phone at all. It was a replacement. It was a simplified and restricted, unintelligent 'smart' phone. A phony phone. It only contained one contact that was saved under the title, 'Husband'. When she tried to contact emergency services, the calls were automatically forwarded to her 'husband'. She immediately stopped trying to dial out.
What was this?
Throwing the phone across the room, she cleaned up and got dressed, packing a bag to escape with. But when she got to the front door, she realised that the fancy new lock was not the lock she brought it was. It was a lock preventing her from going out. What was this? He was imprisoning her here in her own apartment? How dare he?
4
At the balcony, where the air was filled with smoke from somewhere, she stared down from the dizzying heights at the tiny pavement below and realised that being on the seventh storey, there was no safe way for her to escape. Tying bedsheets into a rope would certainly not be long enough. Maybe only enough for her to escape to the apartment below, which, if she remembered correctly, was empty. The balcony door was likely locked. So if she somehow got down there, she would be stuck.
Besides, she didn't trust her own athleticism or lack thereof. Especially not after a week of passionate indulgence and overworking her body. She could barely stand straight and her back ached too much for her legs to retain any form of strength. Even her hands and arms hadn't been spared. When she looked at them, they had a fine tremor from the aching effort she had been forced to put in, in order to satisfy her impressive 'husband'.
Husband her foot. She stomped a foot and immediately regretted it, holding her sore parts while she fell and rolled on the floor. Tears sprang to her eyes at the smarting pain.
Damn man. Damn stranger. Just wait until she was able to break free and escape. Just wait until the police caught him.
But how was she meant to talk to him when he never talked to her? He didn't allow her to speak at all during their interactions. He had always silenced her with deep kisses. He didn't allow her to see him or hear his voice.
Damn sadist. She hoped he went to hell and was roasted to a black crisp within the lake of fire.
What else had he done and changed around her apartment while she had been unconscious? Carefully, she examined her apartment and found multiple little cameras, making her glare into those staring little lenses with fury. No wonder she had felt eyes staring at her wherever she went.
Finding her chopping butcher's knife, she bashed those little cameras into pieces. This is what he got for daring to spy on her. She would teach him a lesson for daring to mess with her. She'd go to bed with a sharp knife under her pillow tonight. She'd teach him a lesson if he dare came. Teach him a lesson for sneaking up on her.
With nothing else to do, and feeling too infuriated and apprehensive about having become a prisoner in her own home, she decided to perform a spring cleaning to see what else she might find. She hadn't gotten far when a wave of fatigue and body soreness washed over her.
Yawning, she ate a few snacks and then dropped onto the couch to have a nap, leaving the mess she had made to be cleaned up when she woke up again. Without the cameras around and feeling safe enough, she also allowed herself this moment to vent her emotions and let herself cry.
For the first and hopefully last time in her adult life, she threw a childish tantrum complete with flailing, throwing and kicking. Although she couldn't be too wild with her motions because it was too painful, it also felt like a prickling reminder. Sharp reminders of the situation she had found herself in and the enormity of how out of her comfort zone she was.
Terrifying. It was too terrifying. Her sobbing cries, mucous and panicked breathing threatened to suffocate her. Her tummy ached with a growing ball of leaden dread. Her entire body curled up and in so that she could imagine herself shrinking into a corner where she could hide until it was safe to come out again.
Tired. So tired.
And sore.
She didn't want to be here anymore.
She should have immediately run for the police or hospital the moment she had woken up the first time. Immediately made a call out for help.
Maybe then she wouldn't be so stuck now.
Sick. She felt so sick. Weak. Helpless.
She felt her neck and forehead, while she shivered with hot and cold chills. The thin blanket she kept on the couch wasn't enough to keep her warm and she didn't feel like she had the strength to move to the bed where it was probably warmer.
She didn't like this. Didn't like it at all.
5
When she woke up in her comfortable, warm and fluffy bed, it was to a new looking apartment. Old furniture and curtains had been replaced with cheerful new things. Wornout carpet had been replaced and even her bedsheets felt crisp and new.
The toilet had received an upgrade, now featuring automatic flushing and sensing technology, with a bidet that could wash, dry and powder the backside. The shower now had a thermometer where you could specify how warm you wanted it to be and change the shower jet spray. The little laundry had both a new washing machine and a tumble drier which she didn't have before. There was even a press closet where wrinkly clothes could be steam pressed.
The kitchen tools and gadgets had also received an upgrade with a newer and bigger fridge. The oven had been upsized. There was food staying warm on for her in vacuum sealed pots or under covered warmth retaining food cloches.
The smell was pretty good, but she wasn't sure she would be eating food provided by that stranger. Who knew what foreign substances or drugs he might have slipped into them.
Her little, ratty apartment had been turned into an upmarket hotel. Even her television had become bigger and wider screened. Her wall of DVDs had been updated with all sorts of movies and dramas that her 'husband' had likely approved to be acceptable for her to watch. There was now also a bookshelf containing all her old textbooks, references and now also several 'approved' works of classic literature. Mostly old classics and classic novels translated from other languages, but there were a few modern novels as well.
In a corner, new musical instruments she used to play but had dropped due to lack of time or money to learn or buy gleamed at her. Someone had either been stalking or investigating her. The thought made her shiver and stomach clench with dread.
Looking around her apartment and luxuriating in the feel of the soft new carpet between her toes, she blinked and blinked again. Dreaming. She was dreaming.
There was the sound of a air conditioner unit turning on and she lifted her head to see a state of the art device installed high up on the wall, maintaining a comfortably warm temperature for her.
Immediately, she began searching for the remote control, only to discover it was missing. The thought of the high bills this quarter made her feel unable to breathe for a moment. Her pay wasn't exorbitant enough to allow her to be so free with her electricity. And if she couldn't even leave her apartment, how was she going to go back to work when her leave was up?
Resting her head against a wall, she took a few long moments to get her breathing back under control and force back any tears. The tightness in her chest was threatening her again.
Drifting over to her study desk, she opened her laptop only to discover that it and her external harddrive had also been combed through by this intrusive stranger that had invaded her bed and life without want or warning. Were she not so angry, she would be feeling much more panicked right now. It seemed that he was planning to keep her like a secret pet or mistress. Dashing tears from her eyes and face, she sniffed as she continued looking.
She could feel his eyes on her again. Watching. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down again. That meant there were new cameras. She would have to find them.
That's right. She was meant to call the police. Go to the hospital. She needed to somehow get word out. Search for a way to get help. Before that, she couldn't give any hint of her plans in front of the hidden watching cameras. She needed to continue what she was doing and make a plan.
When she accessed the internet and her emails to try and get help, she discovered her internet access was restricted too. There were few internet sites she could open and very little she could do.
Damn bully! Damn controlling man.
Although she had been delighted by so many of the new gadgets and things in the house, some of which she had always dreamed of having, she was furious at having her privacy invaded. Freaked out by being trapped by a man who had her in the pal m of his hand. The tight ball in her chest and throat was burning and choking her. No matter how she swallowed, it wouldn't go away.
She didn't know who this man was, what his intentions were or why he had chosen her out of nowhere. She was innocent. A victim. A girl who knew how to keep to herself. Why would he choose her out of all the people in this city?
She combed the house, but could no longer find the little spying security cameras that she knew must be hidden around the place. She dug through her purse and belongings to find that many of her old belongings now had shiny new replacements sitting next to them. Like shoes and dresses. Coats and accessories. But her ID cards and bank cards, all her important documents were gone. Her emergency go bag with passport, birth certificate and citizenship certificates was also gone. Her university and highschool certificates and folder of awards, honours and letters of reference or commendation hadn't been touched though, although it did look like someone had looked through them.
As she looked at the places where she had been sure her identity documents had been, she realised something was wrong. Her memory felt wrong.
Name? Date of birth? Address?
What were they?
She spent a long moment searching and tossing things aside, searching for the missing documents and information to fill in the holes in her memory.
No.
No.
What was wrong with her?
What had happened to her?
What had they done to her?
The entire bedroom and study was tossed upside down before she stopped, sitting on the floor gasping while feeling sweat dripping and soaking her clothes. She shivered from the cold.
On the flip side, her hidden stashes of cash now contained more than twice the amount that had been there before. What was this? Compensation? Did he think this would make her happy?
All these discoveries made her head hurt. She sat back on the floor, leaning against her new electric adjustable bed and rubbed her temples.
How had the man done all of this - the renovations and everything while she had been asleep? How long had she been asleep for? What date or day of the week was it again?
After searching for and finding the mobile phone she had thrown away earlier, she looked at the cracked screen and the date. She double and triple checked it with the date on her laptop. It wasn't wrong. She couldn't help rubbing her temples and forehead again.
Somehow, somewhere, in between falling asleep on the couch for a nap, she had gone and lost another few days. No. Not just a few days. A few weeks. This couldn't be right. Surely she would have woken up from all the noise? Surely she would have known if something had been done to her?
The rubbish bin. Maybe there would be clues in the rubbish bin? Perhaps the man would have slipped up, despite seeming so meticulous in his arrangements and how thoroughly he had searched her apartment.
Wrong. The bin was empty.
As expected.
Clutching her chest, she had to close her eyes to prevent herself from hyperventilating herself into dizzy unconsciousness. She had to stay calm. Stay alert. Plan.
For a long moment, she stared up at a childhood photo of her with her then best friends without taking any of the information in. She, the only girl amidst a bunch of boys. They had all split up not long after the photo was tsken, their parents all taking their families to different places for different reasons. Now, more than ever, she missed them. They had always been full of ideas. Since they had left, she had never been able to make such good or close friends again. She had even retreated into herself. There had been no way for them to contact each other then either. At that time, not all houses had a landline phone and mobile phones were too new and invention for normal families like theirs to have one.
With a trembling sigh, she checked her arms and hands for evidence of what had happened to her the past few weeks or so. The pain from the first week of activity (so preposterous) had mostly settled. Her body mostly felt fine but she still went to the bathroom where she examined herself all over.
On the inside of an elbow, she found the sign of an injection over a vein. Still a relatively new scab. The area was a little bruised and tender to touch. The rest of her seemed largely unaffected, although there was a faint antiseptic smell that suddenly made her feel like taking a shower.
Goosebumps arose all over her body and she shivered with a new chilling sensation as she wondered anew had been done to her while she had been completely unconscious. She had to keep her mind from running down the halls of unlikely catastrophic events of aliens, crazy unethical scientists and dark fiction.
She tried to remember. Scrambled through her memories but kept drawing blanks.
No.
No.
No.
Her breath came in shallow, shuddery gasps and her chest had gone tight again. The leaden ball of dread in her stomach seemed to expanded, weighing her down.
A notification chime came from her unintelligent and restricted new smart phone.
Don't be scared.
"Don't be scared. Don't be scared?" she looked up and ranted angrily at the ceiling. "You invade my home, take advantage of me, renovate my home after knocking me unconscious, imprisoning me and restricting my contact with the outside world and you tell me not to be scared? I'm not just scared, damn you, I'm furious. If I ever meet you, I'm going to beat you into beachball head that I can kick around. How would you like to be trapped in your own house, restricted, bullied and trapped?"
Another message notification chime.
This is for your own good. For your safety.
"My own good? Safety? What kind of good or safety is this?" she spat. "What kind of man are you, staying so hidden and mysterious?"
Look outside. Calm down.
Her breath caught in her throat, making her cough and choke on her own saliva.
"What?"
She rubbed her throbbing head and looked out the window. Everything looked normal. What was there to see? Just the usual city skyscrapers, apartments and parks. Cars and people. She looked out the other windows with a frown. Everything looked perfectly normal. Imperfections in the glass made the images seem a bit blurred and distorted in places though. Why look outside? What was she meant to see?
At the balcony, before even opening the big glass sliding door, she smelled the smoke. Just like the other day when she had been contemplating escape. It had been a smoky, smoggy day then too, but she hadn't looked out at the city scale then as she did now.
Standing on the balcony, looking out into the hazy smoke, she saw the swirling gusts of wind picking up thicker plumes of smoke from here and there below, bringing it to swirl up into the sky and join the blanketing smog. She coughed. Her vision flickered and the images of expected normality shattered. In front of her, was a broken, war-torn landscape. Something big had obviously happened.
Something she had missed.
How was it possible that she had missed it?
When had it happened?
The day she had first woken up after the man's week long intrusion, hadn't she come out and walked around on the street? She had visited the pharmacy. Everything had been fine during that time.
How had this destruction happened so quickly? Did this all happen while she had been unconscious?
No. She was just imagining things. Her windows had shown nothing wrong. Everything was still the normal, modern society that she was used to. Everything inside the apartment and all the new appliances were the evidence of that.
She went back inside, looked out the glass at a normal modern world, and then stepped out onto the balcony again to look down on the broken world below. It looked like there were cleanup crews already working to clear the wreckage. Soldiers were searching for survivors. There were bloody, dirty, dead bodies laid out in rows to be carried away by vehicles on cleared roads.
There were crater bowls and holes in skyscrapers. Toppled buildings and collapsed towers. The distant war memorial monument was missing the tip of the monolisk.
What had happened to the world while she slept? Or had it all been imagined? Was this all just a dream? A weird, convoluted nightmare?
Entering the apartment, she locked the balcony door behind her and took herself back to bed.
"This is a dream. Just a dream," she muttered to herself. "I must still have a fever or something. Maybe it's a feverish dream. I'll go back to sleep. Everything will be fine when I wake up again."