Saving Abby

This story is based to a large extent on stories I have read and has few original ideas. There are two specifically that influenced this one. I will note them at the end, so that there is at least a little suspense. I would guess most anyone interested in this fetish could name them before getting to that point. Hopefully it maintains some entertainment value.

Much thanks goes to my editor, StriderJohn, whom significantly improved the story and kept it from being grammatically challenged.

Disclaimer: This story contains scenes of non-consensual sex between males and females, and depictions of sexual slavery. If you are under 18 or offended by this type of material please do not continue. Otherwise, read on and enjoy! Also, any resemblance of the characters in this work to people either living, dead or fictitious is unintentional and purely coincidental.

Saving Abby ©2015 softi. All rights reserved. Send comments to the contact tab on my profile.

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Sam walked towards the club nervously. There was no sign, only a rusted back alley door, set in an old brick structure, that stayed closed to anyone without an invitation. She was pretty sure that the regulars called it "Night Dreams", a play on the activities that usually went on in the bowels of the building.

"I hope this works," she whispered under her breath as she reached out and knocked two times, then three times, then two again. The information about this place and how to get in came from a site she found on the deep web after the better part of a summer looking. She was thankful school hadn't started up yet. Her heavy class load would interfere with her search for Abby. Ever since her sister went missing right after finals last semester, Sam had been pestering the missing person's unit and searching online. She didn't have the money for a detective, or else she would've had one of those looking as well.

A slot opened in the door. "Who are you?" asked a man from inside. She couldn't quite make out his eyes.

She said the Friday passphrase the site had listed. "A slut looking for a head rush." It came out a little more confidently than she felt. This might be her only chance; she had to get it right.

The man was silent for a second. She held her breath while he stared her down. Finally, the lock clicked, and she sighed in relief. It swung towards her, making her step around to get inside.

"Fresh meat," said the man, checking her out. Without an exhibitionist bone in her body, she had little club wear, so she'd squeezed into the closest thing she had: a tight, white dress that came to mid-thigh. Her long, honey blonde hair was carefully done-up, and she'd bought tall, white heels to help the look. She knew her target liked stilettos and fancied himself some sort of hypnotist, but not much else. Little came out from the confines of the club, and his secretive lifestyle included staying off the grid. She hoped she'd be able to attract his attention.

Inside, the three burly bouncers sat in a red lit alcove, with a dark corridor leading further in. She started down towards the dim light at the end. Loud, thumping bass echoed in the hall from what should be a dance floor at the end. As she made it to the room, she sighed quietly. At least that stuff they said on the sites was somewhat legit. The basic description held true, strobes and colored lights playing across dancers packed in the middle of a large, central area. Around the edges were booths and tables, where observers leered at the hot bodies writhing in time to the electronica. Everyone was dressed up, most to go clubbing like she was, but plenty in classy outfits more appropriate to a night at the opera. Occasionally, someone from the fringes, always in one of the less revealing outfits, walked over to a dancer in club wear, touched their shoulder and leaned in. The pair would head off to a door in the back.

Sam scanned the far corner, looking for what should be the V.I.P. area. Behind a velvet rope sat several groups, with a few obviously powerful people surrounded by hot bodies. The glimpses through the crowd didn't let her find her intended target. She sighed. Great. Get a drink, look around. He'll be here. It wasn't a confident sentiment, just a hopeful one.

At the bar, it took a minute for a ripped man, in tight hot pants and nothing else, to come over. She couldn't help but check him out. "Like what you see?" He smiled at her.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she said, a bit flustered at being caught. "Mojito, please." He kept smiling as he grabbed the Bacardi. She watched his rippling muscles while he worked on her drink. Damn, he's gorgeous. She was still staring as he placed the glass in front of her. It took a second for her to realize she had her drink and fumble at her purse for her wallet. She paid and tipped more than she had intended.

Taking a sip, she slid between people towards the back. Near the wall, she had a better view of the cordoned off corner. Bouncers in suits stood at each end of the rope crossing the raised dais. Sam looked around for Abby at the three tables, but her sister wasn't there. Fuck. She'd hoped for immediate confirmation that Abby had been taken by one of the predators here and was held against her will. Or changed to like it. That's supposed to happen here. Sam shivered. It was impossible, but some part of the rumor still had her worried.

Glancing at each of the tables, she sought out her mark. Sitting in the middle of a red, velour, half moon couch behind the low table in the center, sat a handsome man in a dark grey shirt and slacks, with piercing eyes and a confident smile. He had an air of command, with all of the beauties perched around him or standing nearby paying him deference. Only women attended him, all stunning, and each dressed to turn heads. That's him. It has to be.

Her glance lasted too long, and he caught her. He smirked as his gaze devoured her. Sam blushed and dropped her head, a calculated response she'd planned on if he noticed her. It hopefully would spark his interest. She raised just her eyes, but he had looked away. Dammit. She wondered how many other women had tried to make it into the V.I.P., had tried to get his attention. Some might have used the same trick. He might not care.

She sipped again at her mojito and moved towards one of the guards. With a little luck, the burly guy would at least ask the man if he wanted to let her in. The stark, uncompromising gaze on the guard's face was probably meant to intimidate anyone from attempting just the type of thing she was about to do. She steeled herself and slipped up to him.

"No," he said immediately, before she could say anything.

She stopped short at the abrupt dismissal. She glanced again at the man, who was leaning over to speak to one of his entourage in a slinky red number. Sam was determined, and smiled at the burly guy. "Please ask," she husked, reaching a finger to twirl his tie.

He slapped it away. "No. Leave, or I'll toss you out."

The woman in red had come over and leaned up to the guard, teetering on her toes, and murmured in his ear. Sam glanced over at the man, and he was staring right at her. Oh, thankyou thankyou thankyou. Her stomach flipped in excitement. Finally, after months of tracking down her sister, she was about to meet Abby's abductor. Sam was certain of it.

The guard grunted, "Come in." He stood aside just enough for her to pass. The woman smiled at Sam and motioned for her to follow. As they passed the first table, Sam felt the appreciative looks and appraisals from several elegantly dressed women sitting there. The attendants, all also female, each drop-dead gorgeous and in backless minidresses of varying colors, stood rigidly next to the couches. They stared ahead blankly, ignoring the pair walking by. One of the sitting women said something to another as she pointed at Sam, and they laughed, before turning back to their drinks. Sam swallowed to calm herself. As they reached the middle table and passed between his groupies, she felt each turn to stare at her. Conversation amongst the entourage died down as her escort guided Sam to the front of the couch.

He looked at her, but not to check her out. It was powerful and heady, enough to almost make her giggle in defense. She struggled to find words, but nothing came out.

He just smiled. "I'm Cade," he said, "but you already knew that." He stood up and moved close to her.

She did know, or at least suspected. It was another bit of information she'd dug up on the deep web. She opened her mouth, a planned speech ready to attempt to convince him to let her hang out with him for a bit.

"Shh." He gently placed a finger on her lips. "You also knew the price of admission."

She'd really hoped that part wasn't true. Her stomach dropped as he leaned in, his eyes swallowing hers in their dark depths.

"I will hypnotize you."

Her breath caught. When she'd been preparing, training her mind to resist, learning all of the possible tricks to subvert her will so that she could fight them, the danger was distant and easily put aside. The irrational claims of mind controlled slaves felt unreal then, just a conspiracy theory. Now, in front of Cade, feeling his confidence and magnetism, little worms of doubt ate at her thoughts. She giggled, more nerves than humor, and turned her head to look away.

Cade took her hand and said, "Follow me." He gently but insistently pulled Sam behind the couch and through a door hidden by long, red, velvet curtains.

Here we go. She knew that coming here, inside the club and up on the dais, had signaled her willingness. This was her best hope of finding Abby. She knew she had no choice. She didn't resist. I really hope I'm ready for this.

Darkness engulfed them, and shocking silence, as he closed the door. Sam heard the click of a lock, and she stumbled on the chair that Cade lead her to. Cade let go of her hand, and she heard him take a step before pulling out another seat. She settled down on the comfortable office chair, which had a cloth back and rubber armrests. Cade lit a candle, momentarily blinding Sam. She blinked her eyes and looked around. Grey walls seemed to close in on the small space, and a little, circular, dark wooden table was between the two of them. Cade sat the broad, flat candle holder down in the center of the round surface. It lit up the man's face from below, casting eerie shadows across his visage.

Cade smiled. "What's your name?"

"Cindy," Sam replied. She had practiced responding to the name for nearly a month.

"Cindy," he repeated. "Hmm. Well, Cindy, I am going to hypnotize you. Your mind will be mine to remould into a shape I desire. This is your last chance to leave and keep your mind intact."

Sam breathed in anxiously, and held down the queasiness. Here it is, she thought. He's telling me flat out he's going to take my mind. Her cognition, her will, her very self were all at risk. It was a bet, herself against her sister. It frightened her a little, but thoughts of Abby strengthened her resolve. She didn't believe in hypnosis and mind control anyway, and would be actively resisting, so she wouldn't fall into even a light trance. Plenty of research into "real" hypnosis taught her that. It only worked on the willing. She needed to be careful though, to fake it well enough to make Cade think he had her under control and give her time to find her sister. Then she could get her away from this monster.

"That's why I'm here, to let you," she said. "Please, hypnotize me."

Cade's face warped into a feral grin. He bore into her eyes, powerful and controlling. Sam prepared herself to defy him but to act the part of the ingénue.

"Relax, Cindy, and look at the candle," he started in a low drone. "Let your eyes rest in the flickering light dancing in your vision. So peaceful, so calm. Let the flame fill your eyes and capture your thoughts."

She almost rolled her eyes. Damn, this is almost as bad as those MP3s. She controlled herself, and kept her gaze centered on the candle. Just keep playing along. She'd missed something. Fuck.

"... Feel the heaviness in your limbs," he continued. "In your feet, rooted to the floor now. In your calves, weighing them down. In your thighs, pressing them against the chair."

Oh my god, this is stupid, she thought. It took her a moment to concentrate on his words enough to follow along again. Be careful. Keep up.

"In your chest, relaxing back into the cushion. In your shoulders, falling down now. In your arms, pressing into the armrests. In your neck, hard to keep your head up."

Relaxation. OK. Sam tried to look like she was submitting. It was just some slouching and a loose neck at this point, so it wasn't too hard. She hoped.

"The flame is so big now, encompassing your vision, becoming all that you can see. Watch it dance, flicker, sway. Fall into the motion and let it fill your mind."

How do I fake that? She tried to let her face go slack as she kept staring at the candle.

"Feeling so heavy now, resting in the light. So tired, eyelids drooping, struggling to stay open."

Drooping? Idiotic. She half closed her eyes. Why anybody believes in this shit... She'd lost track of a few words again, and brought her focus back to his voice.

"Drifting closed, falling into slumber, flame still in your mind."

OK. Closed. Her eyes shut.

"Listening, letting my words into your mind, making a home there."

Now what? she thought. Just sit here?

"Sliding into trance, your conscious mind drifting while your unconscious follows my voice."

How does this ever work, even on the willing?

"Sleep now, and let my words become all that you hear, all that you are."

Jesus, Sam thought. Hopefully we get on to some instructions, because this is boring as shit. She resisted a sigh, keeping her breathing even and slow. That's what I'm supposed to do, right? Dammit, I missed something more.

"Arm floating up, the balloon holding it high." She brought her right arm up, and hoped she'd guessed the correct one. "Good girl. Let it fall gently down, heavy on the armrest again." She did. "I'm going to ask your unconscious some questions now, and only the conscious mind lies. Your unconscious can only tell me the truth."

Here we go, she thought. Her carefully constructed story better work.

"Why are you here?" Cade asked.

"To be hypnotized," she said in her best sleepy monotone.

"Why do you want to be hypnotized?"

"I've always wanted it."

"Why?"

"I want to be controlled."

"Why?"

"Because it's turns me on." She was pulling from some of the fetish sites. I hope he's buying it.

"Are you turned on now?"

"Yes." She lied. He better not check. Part of this could involve sex. She didn't like it, but she was mentally prepared to deal with it. She just had to hope the physical part would come along.

"Are you resisting me?"

That was unexpected. Can he tell? A sinking panic filled her, but she kept her body slack and still. "No."

He took a second. "And now floating up, coming out of trance."

Shit. He knows.

"Your mind becoming conscious, more aware."

What did I do? Can I fix this?

"Eyes opening, and fully awake." Sam blinked her eyes, as the dim candlelight was somewhat bright after having her eyes closed.

"Whu, what happened?" she said, trying to keep up pretenses.

"Some part of you is countering the trance," Cade said, staring at her. "You're here at the club, and you came back into this room with me. So, now, the question is why do you fight it? Is it fear, even if imagining it does turn you on? Or is it something else?"

"I... I don't know. I don't really remember fighting it," said Sam, hoping to somehow save this.

"It's OK, Cindy," he replied. "You came, and you consented, and I will hypnotize you. It will just take more effort, and some skill."

She stared into his eyes. He really thinks he can do it.

"It's a challenge. I do have some fun with the easy ones, but overcoming resistance, breaking down a will and bending it to serve me, that's luscious, much more enjoyable and satisfying." He grinned at her. "So now, I will take my time, subvert your resistance, watch you succumb to my will. You will let me into your mind and I will remake it to my liking."

Sam shivered in his predatory gaze. This man was psychotic, and she was in a room with him.

"We're just going to have a quiet conversation." He lowered his voice to a murmur. She had to lean forward to hear him. "One about your trance and how quickly you fall into it. About whether your need to tell me why you're here comes from your conscious or unconscious mind. About whether you enjoy your resistance failing or not."

Wait, what? Sam tried to follow each question, but she didn't have ready answers for the choices they presented.

"You are lucky that I am here to guide you into the trance you desire. It will be better than when you hypnotized yourself. How many sites did it take, how many MP3s?"

"I didn't..." said Sam, trying to keep up. She had to make this show better than her last, so he would be convinced this time around.

"When you found this fetish, did you get wet thinking of being controlled by a woman, or a man? Or were you just happy to be an obedient hypnoslave to anyone?"

"Hey, I never..."

"Look at the candle again, Cindy," he said.

She looked. It wasn't hypnotic.

"It draws you in, and you can't look away."

This is silly. She blinked a few times. She was still supposed to be faking it though, so she left her eyes there.

"Did you use a candle, a spiral or a watch when you tranced yourself?"

She remembered spirals on her computer screen. It hadn't worked, had it?

"I see I'm confusing you, Cindy. It's OK. Just look at the flame."

She kept looking. It was confusing, but staring into the light made sense at least. She could do that.

"When tied up, do you prefer blowing dicks or eating pussies?"

Damn, that came out of nowhere! She thought quickly. "I..."

"Try to resist me and look away from the candle. You can't anymore."

Sam wanted to turn her head just to show him it wasn't working, but she had to keep up the act.

"When you are on the dance floor, do you prefer flashing your naked breasts or your bare crotch?"

She stayed silent, getting confused with his rapid fire questions and impossible to answer scenarios.

"When you succumb to me, will you enjoy the obedience or the submission more?"

Again, Sam felt cornered by the question. "I... I..."

"You're still looking at the flame, Cindy. Your ability to resist is failing."

Her gaze was locked on the candle. She had stopped trying to move it as his questions assaulted her.

"Are you losing your will to the candle or to me?"

Wait, I'm not losing my will, am I? she asked herself.

"I can see you're tired now after dealing with all of my questions."

What? she thought. I am?

"Just rest in the flame."

I'm already looking there...

"You're following my suggestions well now," he said. "The flame has allowed me past your resistance."

It has? I don't think...

"It has captured your mind, left you open to my words."

What? No, it hasn't, has it? How do I tell? Sam thought.

"They are taking you into a light trance. You can't stop it now. Your resistance has failed, I have already passed it. Look inside your mind and you'll see the truth."