For Spell Siren

[Cedar]

PART ONE

Erin gradually woke up, feeling oddly weak and disoriented. She hazily remembered a weird dream and wondered if it had disrupted her sleep. She usually felt pretty alert when she woke up.

That had been a weird dream. A vague awareness of something like cloth pressing on her face, a chemical smell, and then nothing more. Remembering, she unthinkingly brought her hands toward her face --

-- or tried to. She couldn’t move her arms.

Her arms were straight up toward the head of the bed, she realized, which was odd because she had never woken up in that position before. She tried to move them again. There was something around her wrists, holding them there.

Erin’s eyes sprang open in fear. This was not her bedroom. It was pitch dark, whereas her apartment bedroom always had some light from the building across the street, even with the curtains closed. She also realized that, while she was lying on a bed, there were no covers over her. And she seemed to be naked, though she had had her nightgown on when she went to bed last night. She fought back rising panic.

She pulled her legs toward herself, bare heels making a slight rustle against the sheet. No restraints there, at least. But her wrists were firmly cuffed to the headboard, if that was what it was.

Erin’s heart began to pound. She’d been kidnaped, obviously. Her last college final had been two days ago; today was the day she’d planned to set off for home to spend summer vacation with her parents. So her college friends wouldn’t miss her, but her parents would, when she didn’t show up this afternoon.

Keep calm, she thought to herself. They’ll call the college, the police will search my apartment for clues --

Suddenly there was the click of a door opening and a shaft of dim light fell across the room, followed an instant later by dazzling glare as a ceiling light was switched on.

Erin blinked, startled. Her face happened to have been turned away from where the door was, and she registered the fact that the room was windowless, its walls lined with cardboard boxes with books stacked on top of them -- a storeroom of some kind. She turned towards the door -- and gasped with relief. “Mark!” She was rescued already!

Professor Mark Radec, standing tall in the doorway, was perhaps a less likely savior than a police officer would have been, but he would have fitted the role of an old-fashioned adventure-novel hero well enough. In his mid-thirties at most, he was young for a full professor, especially one already known as a rising star in his field. Unlike most of his rather rumpled and flabby colleagues, he was almost handsome in a rough-hewn, slightly Slavic kind of way, and while not over-muscled or even particularly athletic-looking, he kept in good shape. More than that, though, what Erin (and several other female students) had long found intriguing about him was a certain distant, detached quality - as if his mind were elsewhere, as if he had depths to him that didn’t show on the surface. He rarely smiled, and sometimes made you feel that he was looking more through you than at you.

At the moment, though, he was very much looking right at Erin as she lay naked on the bed, and his expression, while coolly appraising, seemed anything but detached.

“Mark!” Erin exclaimed again. “How did you find me? Do you know who kidnaped me?” Her voice faltered. Something was wrong here.

Mark closed the door behind him and pulled a wooden chair up to the edge of the narrow bed, the scraping sound it made telling her that the floor was uncarpeted. He was dressed in jeans and a grey shirt, clothes he’d often worn while teaching in class.

He reached forth a hand and laid it on the smooth softness of her bare belly, just below the navel, his touch sending an electric jolt through her. He slowly moved it up her midriff with a stroking motion, closing his eyes briefly.

And Erin knew the answer to, at least, her second question. She knew who had kidnaped her.

“Mark,” she said, struggling to remain calm, “Mark, please.....If it’s a ransom you want, well, my parents aren’t rich, but -“

He smiled very slightly and gave the very barest shake of his head. “Not ransom.” He’d always had a faint accent which, in class, made him sound exotic and fascinating. The accent seemed stronger now. Though his expression appeared calm, his eyes were like she had never seen them before, staring, hungry. His roving hand had reached her breast, and he began to cup it over the soft mound, squeezing gently. Reflexively she tried to bring her hand down to push him away, only to yank her wrist painfully against the restraint holding it fast.

[Cedar]

PART TWO

“My God,” she quavered in rising panic, “Mark, look, my parents are expecting me. They’ll report it when I don’t show up this afternoon --“

He shook his head again. “An e-mail from your e-mail account was sent to your parents this morning, explaining that a couple of the girls from class had invited you up to Seattle for two weeks and you’d decided to do that instead. It sounds just like you. After I hacked your e-mail account last week I spent some time studying the way you phrase things. Your car is gone. Some of your clothes and a suitcase are gone. Your camera is gone. Your computer was last used to look up online street maps of Seattle. A note under your apartment manager’s door informs him of your change in plans. There are no fingerprints in your apartment except yours.”

He was massaging her breast now, clearly enjoying the sensation, paying particular attention to the nipple. Erin realized she was feeling a tingle of arousal herself. Though she was twenty, she had never been touched by a man like this -- nothing like this. She had been brought up to believe that sex was special and sacred, and that it should be saved for marriage, or at least for true love. While she had often thought that Mark was rather attractive, and sometimes arrived early at his classes so she could sit up front, she had never worn a short skirt or low-cut top in an effort to catch his eye, as a couple of the more flirtatious girls she knew sometimes had. She had been kissed a few times in high school, and she occasionally masturbated, though she tried to keep that to a minimum because it always left her feeling rather empty afterwards. But that was the extent of her sexual experience.

Still squeezing her breast, Mark put his other hand on her upper thigh, making her flinch. He ran it up the smoothness to the edge of her triangle of soft black hair, then down, his fingertips touching her vaginal lips. She twisted to the side, trying to roll away from him, awkwardly because of her restrained arms. His grip instantly tightened hard against her pubic area, pressing her back down.

“Erin, be sensible,” he said. “You’re a bright girl. You know you can’t stop me. Just relax and let it happen. You might even enjoy it.”

By now Erin’s eyes had fully adjusted to the light. The windowless room’s walls were painted, but they looked like concrete, not wood. She guessed she was in a basement room which had once been converted into a study and later used for storage. She further guessed that even if she screamed herself hoarse, she would not be heard. She had no idea where Mark lived or if this was even his own house, but he had planned all this too carefully to overlook that.

His fingers started rubbing lightly at her vaginal lips. Anger at what he was doing exploded inside her. She squeezed her thighs tightly together and brought her knees up, twisting away from him again in the same motion, while she lunged with her head at his other hand on her breast and snapped her jaws together in a savage bite that almost, but not quite, caught him. “Take your hands off me! Damn you!”

He blinked a couple of times and withdrew his hands, though his unperturbed manner suggested he was neither discouraged nor surprised. He reached to one side -- she realized there was a low table beside him next to the head of the bed -- and picked up two items: a wad of black cloth and a pitcher of water.

After making sure she had seen the pitcher, he set it down again and shook out the cloth. She saw that it was a hood, with no eye or mouth holes. Despite her thrashing and snarls he forced it over her head; though it was thin and not heavy, the material was totally opaque, and she was in darkness again. She felt him securing the bottom of the hood around her neck by tying something, not tightly at all, just so that no matter what she did, the hood could not slip upward.

Her heart began to pound. Being in complete darkness disoriented her; knowing that he was there, could touch her at any moment, but not being able to see him, filled her with fear. “Mark.....what.....what.....”

She heard a very faint sound that must have been the pitcher being picked up, and then a hand clamped down on her forehead with an iron grip, immobilizing her head.

Then suddenly the cloth covering the lower part of her face was wet and water was rushing into her mouth. She clamped it shut, only to have it flood her nose. Gasping, choking, drowning, she was overwhelmed with sheer primal panic, thrashing and bucking and twisting, convinced she was dying, dying in this blackness --

And then it stopped, and she felt him untying the hood and pulling the wet thing off her face, so she could see again. Coughing and spluttering, she quickly got her breathing passages clear; there hadn’t really been that much water, she realized. But the panic, the horror she had felt for that brief four or five seconds –- her heart was still racing.

Mark slipped a strong forearm under her shoulders and raised her upper body slightly, pushing a thick towel underneath so she was lying on something dry instead of the now-damp bed-sheet. In a twisted way he was actually trying to be considerate of her comfort. But the back fringe of her medium-length black hair was still damp against her neck.

[Cedar]

PART THREE

“I don’t want to have to do that again,” Mark said, and laid his hands back on her. This time, too, he leaved forward and placed his lips on her nipple, sucking the small bud of flesh into his mount, flicking the tip of his tongue around it. Erin forced herself to lie still. If she did make him use the water again, he might make it last longer than just a few seconds.

There was an urgency and passion about his touch now. Bizarrely, the human warmth of it felt almost comforting after her brief but shocking panic under the water. He explored her body uninhibitedly, touching her everywhere. When he reached between her legs again to probe her there, she was shamed to realize that the contact was slick, slick with her own wetness. With a sudden swift motion he pulled his shirt up and off and tossed it away, then reached for the fastening of his jeans.

“Mark, please!” she begged. “I’ve never -- I mean, I’m saving it for when I meet -- someone special --“

“I had guessed that about you, and it pleases me,” Mark said, stepping out of his jeans, “for I want to violate your soul as deeply as I violate your body.” He wore no underclothing. Climbing onto the bed, he mounted her urgently, forcing his knees between hers and spreading them apart easily despite her resistance. He reached down between their bodies and she felt what could only be the head of his rigid, straining penis probe into her entrance.

“No -- please -- oh my God --“ It was useless. He pushed it in slowly, spreading her, meeting and pressing against her precious hymen, and then there was a quick snap of pain as he lunged forward through it and into her, all the way in, filling her. She was wet enough that, aside from the rapidly-fading pain from the tearing of the virginal membrane, it was not too physically painful, but she was panting shallowly, feeling it inside her, consciousness paralyzed with the awareness of what was being done to her.

His face was inches from hers, his gaze burning into her eyes. “If you only knew,” he breathed, “how many times I looked at you in class and thought of this.....”

He began thrusting inside her, rolling on her hard, abandoning himself to sensation. She whimpered as he used her. She had never felt so helpless in her life. Her hands were bound; her legs, held apart by his thrusting body between them, could do nothing but kick and flail at thin air. Her chastity was lost, her dignity was lost. She was a mere toy, a utensil for his enjoyment.

His chest was moving against her breasts, his groin was kneading her clitoris as he thrust in her. She had already been aroused by his exploration of her with his hands, and despite her horror at the violation, the sheer animal sensations of it all -- so much more forceful and heated than when she merely played with herself -- and the energetic maleness of the body on top of hers, were exciting her further. Inexperienced as she was, she barely understood the meaning of what she was feeling.

But she was aware that he was thrusting faster and harder and deeper, panting roughly, his face becoming flushed -- and she knew all too well what that meant, even though she had never actually seen a man in that state.

“Mark.....please.....” she managed to beg, “not.....inside me.....I’m not.....protected.....please.....”

He said nothing, but began thrusting even more frantically, as if her words had pushed his excitement to the point of no return. His frenzy drove her own body over the brink and she convulsed with violent ecstasy, her vagina clenching rhythmically around his rigid invading member as she cried out, and then he drove all the way in, hard, and stayed there as she shuddered underneath him, and she felt the gush, gush, gush of warm fluid bursting against her cervix as his penis throbbed spasmodically against the pressure of her encasing flesh.

Gradually their shared tremors subsided, as did their mingled cries. Erin felt a deep sense of relaxation and serenity suffuse her body, far better than what she had ever had after the feeble climaxes she gave herself, and she hated it, hated the fact that she had gotten this from what he had done to her, hating even more the fact that she knew he was feeling the same, utterly satisfied and fulfilled by having so selfishly violated her.

She realized that her last words, revealing her ultimate vulnerability, had both triggered and enhanced his climax. She did not dare consider that they had also enhanced her own.

He lay on top of her for a while, neither of them speaking. At last he gave her a long kiss on the lips and then arose, smiling down at her.

“You may not realize it yet,” he said, “but that someone special you were waiting for has finally arrived to lay claim to you. I will leave you now to contemplate that.”

And he opened the door and left, flicking the light switch as he did. And the total darkness closed over Erin once again, leaving her only the unwanted tranquility of her afterglow and the sticky warmth of his essence deep inside her.

[Cedar]

PART FOUR

During the captivity that followed, she had no way of gauging the passage of time. She did not know whether it was night when she slept or day when she was awake. Even when he took her out of the room and down a short corridor to use the restroom, there was no window or clock, no glimpse of the outside. The basic food and water he brought her at irregular intervals kept her neither hungry nor really full. She had light only when he was with her; when he was gone she was in darkness and silence, with nothing but her own physical sensations to occupy her awareness. It was a timeless existence that soon seemed to have had no beginning, nor any possible end.

But even though she could not judge the intervals between them, she never lost track of how many times he ravished her.

While she never succeeded in avoiding orgasm, it was with the fourth time that she realized she had stopped trying. It was with the seventh time that in her paroxysms of excitement she responded to his climax by wrapping her legs around him and digging her bare heels into his buttocks, locking their bodies together so that he couldn’t have pulled out of her even if he’d wanted to. It was with the tenth time that he started releasing one of her arms so she could touch him during the act, and with the twelfth that he gave her both arms free, securing her again by just one when he was finished and left her to the timeless floating darkness and her thoughts.

But it was not until the seventeenth or eighteenth time that she consciously admitted to herself what her gut feelings had already accepted: that she could no longer face the thought of going back to an existence without the primal ecstasy and satisfaction he had shown her. She wanted to return to her old life, yes, but it had to include him. It was not love. It was not even exactly lust, though that was certainly part of it. It was, perhaps, the feeling a proud and noble dog experiences when it finally finds a worthy master.

And it was not until the thirty-first time that, having finished and spent a little time lazing quietly on top of her as was now his habit, he did not end by re-fastening one of her wrists to the headboard and switching off the light. Instead, he stood up and held out a hand to invite her to arise beside him.

He led her out of the room and through a different way, up some stairs and to a neat little living room lined with bookshelves. There was a computer in one corner, but no television. The picture window was covered with tightly-drawn curtains, but Erin could tell it was dark outside. On the sofa, opened, lay her suitcase, with a selection of her clothes. The familiar articles seemed somehow odd, relics of a distant past. She realized that after being naked for so long, clothes would feel strange, even uncomfortable.

She turned to Mark. “Are - are you letting me go?”

“It is time,” he said. “It has been twelve days. You will be expected back, and you will need a day or two to adjust.”

Twelve days! Was that really all it had been? She had completely forgotten about the cover story he had invented to explain her disappearance, and that it had her out of town for only two weeks. He must have enjoyed her two or three times each day, she realized -- a sign both of his passion and of his vitality.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll go to the police?” she asked, reaching down into the suitcase and fingering a favorite skirt. The material felt rough and alien.

“You will not go to the police,” he replied, with the air of a man stating a fact so plain it needed no emphasis. “You will not even go to your parents.”

She remembered that her parents would be assuming she would still be coming to spend the summer with them after she got back from Seattle, and in an instant something like panic filled her. That would mean leaving town -- leaving him -- for well over a month!

She did not love him. But she could not exist without him, as an addict cannot exist without the drug.

“No,” she said slowly. “No, I won’t.” But what could she tell them?

“You will tell them,” he predicted, as if reading her mind, “that the eminent Professor Radec has recommended that you attend a special advanced seminar with him over the summer. There will be no need to mention that the seminar is so exclusive that you will be the only student - nor that you will be meeting me here at home rather than on the campus.”

She could not deny the thrill of anticipation that filled her at his words.

She pulled the skirt on and instantly felt an urge to pick irritably at the waistband. She simply was not used to clothes any more. She chose her loosest and lightest blouse and a pair of flip-flops; regular shoes were out of the question. At least going without underwear would leave her a little more comfortable.

Mark closed the suitcase and picked it up. He led her to her car where it had been hidden in his garage since he brought her here. He drove, of course; it would take a while for such habits to come securely back to her. When he dropped her off at her apartment and parked the car in its usual spot, the sky was already grey with approaching dawn and he could not linger and risk being seen, but she did not go up the steps and into the building until he was out of sight. The morning air was cool against her bare vagina under her skirt, but she was still aware of the sticky warmth of his last load of seed, still within her.

I am free, she thought as she reached her apartment door at last. For the first time in my life, I am free.

[Flesh4Fantasy]

+ Rep and 5 Stars.

Well done, Cedar!

Nicely paced, very clean edit. Plot, emotion, dialog - excellent. Hard to believe it was a "commissioned" piece.

Thank You for your work here. It helps promote two Social Groups at once.

Bravo.

[pervipete]

Wow, well done Cedar, great story. +Rep

[Cedar]

Much thanks for the kind words and the repping!

[Spell Siren]

Thank you so much for this Cedar.....I am obliged that you spent so much of your time and effort on me......I simply loved the story.....Great work! +rep

[Cedar]

Glad you liked it.....I had fun writing it