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Stockholm Series

Stockholm Syndrome

Part one

I woke up shivering and naked, disoriented in an unfamiliar room. Facedown on a cold bench, I felt dizzy when I tried to lift my head. Was I drugged? I honestly have no recollection, but my vertigo passed eventually. I tried to stand and was horrified to discover that my wrists and ankles were secured to the concrete floor. Leather straps wrapped around my extremities, connected to short thick chains linked to metal hooks in the floor.

Some minutes passed and the pit in my stomach turned to terror. I cried in desperation, calling out for anyone to help me. My whimpers turned to sobs, and I heard ominous laughter coming from the shadows. I raised my neck as high as I could, and I saw a woman's legs in tall boots walking towards me. She was amused and dangled a thick leather ball gag just within my line of sight. I tried to abate my tears on my own, but she leaned down to comfort me. She wiped away my tears and said softly, "Don't worry sweetheart, I'm here to hurt you."

Before I could respond or even breathe, she fastened the ball gag tightly in place. I was drooling from the device and struggling to catch my breath. I still could not see the face of my tormenter. I had a strange feeling that she did not choose me randomly, but I still didn't recognize her voice or the strange basement. She was the only person with me, and I clung to the hope that she would be my salvation.

She was calculated. her voice cold, chillingly serious. She told me that she wanted to make sure I was as good a captive as she had presumed. She reached between my legs and she didn't even have to touch me. She laughed noted that I had already left a puddle on her bench. Without even touching my throbbing cunt, she said that she could feel my heat from a distance. I whimpered at her words and became painfully aware of my throbbing.


She called me a pathetic bitch and poignantly reminded me that I was drugged, chained, and locked in a basement. She taunted me, saying that I was such a little whore, dripping for my unknown predator. Then she told me that she didn't want a desperate slut for a captive. She was ashamed of me, and I was, too. She expressed her disappointment in me and she turned around to exit the basement.

She told me that I had failed, and she walked away. I watched her long legs as I tried to shout my apologies and remorse. The gag muffled my words, and the door clicked shut. It was already too late.

Part two

I watched the heel of her black stiletto boot disappear from the dungeon when the door snapped shut. I was soaked and humiliated. She left me alone and naked with nothing but my sodden fear. As soon as the door closed, my panic switched to survival instinct. I didn't know how long I had been in her basement, but my hunger and thirst were setting in, the drugs were wearing off.

I was drooling uncontrollably from the large gag, and I consciously reminded myself to ration whatever remaining fluids I had. I concentrated intently to slow my breathing. I didn't have any energy to waste on futile fear. I honed my focus to figure out how to break from these shackles.

My ankles were bound impossibly tight. I yanked the straps a few times, and it was obvious that my ankle cuffs were not the key to my escape. I turned my attention to my wrist straps. My hands and wrists are slender, and my captor had strapped them a few inches too high on my forearms. I slid the straps down to the narrowest part of my wrist and tried to slip my hands through. I nearly dislocated my thumb contorting my hand, but miraculously, I managed to slip both of my hands free.

With the use of my hands, first I removed the ball gag. I caught my breath and wiped the drool from my chin. I knew I could release my ankles, but I would have to bend my body in unnatural ways. I twisted backwards and with an ache I managed to reach and release my left ankle. I released my right ankle bind even faster. I had actually broken out of my chains, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I was still naked, alone, and locked in this freaky dungeon.

I stood up and looked around the room at the various displays of tools and equipment. I was especially drawn to the display of neatly organized and carefully maintained collection of authentic leather riding crops and meticulously sharpened cattle prods. To the far right of the display, I saw the electric cattle prods. I spotted an electric prod with deep purple handle. I took it down from the wall, and the purple grip was perfect for my hand. Then I looked down and noticed a fresh bottle of water on the floor.

I grabbed the bottle thirstily and chugged half. Once hydrated, I made the sickening revelation about who had left the water for me. I scanned the whole basement, clutching my electric cattle prod defense. I heard the door swing open shut and familiar sound of slow bootsteps approaching.

My hands were shaking as I pointed my weapon at my haunting captor. My tears began to run again, and she smiled. She inquired with a smirk as to how I managed to break free from my chains.

I begged her not to hurt me, and my knees began to tremble. She continued towards me until we were face to face. She told me that if I was so scared, then maybe I shouldn't play with such scary toys. She snatched the electric cattle prod from my hands and gently informed me that I had picked her favorite. She looked amused and told me that she doesn’t like to share. We were going to play the way that she wanted to play.

Part three

My captor grinned wickedly, her purple prod in hand. I kept my body hunched, and I held up my hands to defend myself. I begged and I pleaded with her not to hurt me. She rolled her eyes and zapped me once with the cattle prod.

I jumped and yelped in pain. I looked down at the fresh mark she had left over my ribs. Pain radiated through my chest when I touched the blistering burn, and more tears followed. I sobbed softly into my hands, and I had no words left to say. I was finally docile and silent, a molded prisoner. She could sense my acquiescence. She waved her cattle prod at me again, tormenting my cracked frame. I cried again, and she told me to go lie back down on bench. I told her no.

"No?" she queried. She was surprised by my disobedience, and she said, "I thought your desperate cunt was aching for me. I can still see your mess on my bench to prove it." I was shocked when she responded with words instead of force. I almost felt like I could detect some mercy. I responded and my voice shook when I told her that I was hungry and exhausted. I pleaded for compassion when I told her that I wanted was to be free from her and this basement.

She haughtily replied that the door was never even locked in the first place, and she gestured towards the exit. I looked at her with disbelief, then desperate gratitude and a tearful smile. I walked to the unlocked door and pushed it open. I walked myself out of her freaky basement and never looked back.

Part four/sequal - Hall of Mirrors


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