Never Alone

CHAPTER 1: Never Alone

Gentle fingers caressing her forearm lift her out of a deep sleep. A hot exhale on her neck plunges her into wakefulness. The dim green glow of her alarm clock informs her that it is just after three, but it does not provide enough light to see by. The feeling of being watched is strong, making the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention.

She is not alone. Her body refuses to move. Her vocal chords are not responding. Terror holds her frozen, but there's something else - something soothing, reassuring. Confused and curious yet still so tired, she struggles to keep her heavy eyelids from pulling her back into the darkness. It's a fight she's going to lose before bringing herself to investigate. She slips into a dreamless sleep, that is, until the following night.

"Greta, are you coming tonight?" The voice from across her desk sounds far away, less real than the daydream of the gorgeous stranger she is wrapped up in. "It's Thursday," the impatient brunette adds, standing hands to curvy hips that are showcased by a pencil skirt.

"I uh... I can't. I'm sorry." She runs her hand through the fiery waves that frame her face, searching for a good excuse, but her stock is severely depleted, having canceled weekly evening plans for about a month.

"What's the reason this time? Secretly have a hot date tonight?" Rebecca couldn't have been more simultaneously right and wrong, not that she is aware at all. She laughs aloud with that booming, overly-confident chortle that makes Greta cringe.

"I just can't. Maybe next time." But Greta won't be invited next time. She won't even be in the office when plans are being made. Worse, no one will even notice their timid co-worker is missing.

She stirs awake - unsure of the cause - and it is immediately apparent that something is not right. It's too dark, much too dark. And that smell. Musky. Woodsy. Manly. There hasn't been a man in this bedroom since... since... Well it's been a while.

Turning to look at her alarm clock, she realizes her eyes are covered with a thin piece of fabric. She reaches to remove it and suddenly the room grows warmer, the air thicker, the man-smell stronger. Panic spikes her senses, breathing, and heart rate all at once.

Something holds her arms above her head, forcing her to reach towards the corners of the mattress. Straining against it only increases the pressure on her wrists, and makes her aware how sore this position has made her. How long has she been stretched like this, all four limbs restrained to fully offer her body to her captor? The question sends shivers up her spine.

As soon as her mouth opens to scream, a hand covers it roughly, only increasing her panic and desire to call out. "Shh... No one can hear you." His message should have caused more terror, but his voice and his presence are soothing somehow.

He watches the long, slender body bathed and pale in the moonlight relax. This serves as an opportunity to replace his hand with his lips. Her struggles beneath him as he crawls on top of her excite him, but they cease as she gives in to his passionate kisses.

There is something so familiar about him, but that's not the only reason she allows her lips to participate. She knows that if she were to slip a finger between her legs, it would come out glistening. How quickly her body has betrayed her. But this is just a dream right? It wouldn't be anything new to Greta. She's been with this dream-man before, but this is so vivid and...

"Ohh!"

His finger confirms her wetness theory as it plunges inside easily. Her back arches in surprise and pleasure, pulling hard against the ties. He seems to touch every inch of the sensitive flesh inside her. The desperate thrusts of her hips soon exceed those of his fingers, urging him to quicken his pace.

But he stops. The emptiness causes her to protest, but she is silenced by the taste of her own juices. His fingers slide sloppily out of her surprised mouth. Firm thighs are pushing her own farther apart, but she hardly notices because of the attention her breasts are receiving.

The squeezing and kneading are almost painful yet she still finds her back arching, offering herself to his assault. His weight shifts on the bed and she can feel him at her entrance. His turgid member slides along her slick slit. Never has a dream felt so real. Even the slightest touch of their sexes feels like a small electric shock that spreads throughout her body.

His warmth breath on her chilled skin.

His commanding, confident touch.

She wants him desperately and her hips rise as an invitation, but he retreats.

"Patience my pet." His voice is so soft, barely audible.

Did he just call me his pet?

"Please. I..." She is immediately hushed and strong hands put pressure on her insistent hips, forcing them back into the mattress.

"Begging is not very becoming. You'll learn." One hand has shifted so that the thumb can rub her swollen clit while the other is migrating northward.

"But I need... Oww!" His fingers clamp on one of her sensitive buds. "Oooh STOP!"

The sound of her own voice frightens her awake, but when she stops screaming the only other sound is her heavy breathing. Her body is covered in sweat, matting her hair to her forehead and neck. Some of it has been soaked up into the old T-shirt she's wearing, but that is hiked up high enough to reveal erect nipples.

As she shifts to turn on her bedside lamp, she realizes her panties are damp. Some dream wasn't it? But the lamp's glow reveals strange purple marks on her wrist. Her other wrists has a matching bruise bracelet.

The temperature of the room suddenly seems to rise again and she feels nauseous. Instead of deep breaths calming her down, her panic intensifies as a familiar yet impossible scent enters her nose.

This can't be happening.

Before she consciously makes up her mind, her legs are carrying her out the bedroom door, leaving blankets falling off the bed. A sprint down the short hallway.

Was that a shadow?

A precarious dash down the stairs.

Don't fall or he'll get me.

Unlocking the front door with shaky hands awards her with a cool breeze. She feels silly for a moment, standing on her front porch in only a T-shirt and dull underwear. There is no audience though because no one is outside at three in the morning.

Right when it seems safe to go back inside – it was only a dream of course – a strong dizziness comes over her. The road and the sidewalk are rippling. It's as if she's looking out onto a cement sea. The house across from her begins to tilt.

The cool breeze is gone as she is wrapped in warmth again. She feels light as a feather for a moment, and then she sees the stars before everything fades to black.

CHAPTER 2: In The Hospital

"Are you awake? Can you hear me?" the voice of a sweet-sounding lady questions. Everything is so bright. Greta squints from the blinding intensity of the white walls surrounding her.

Before she can rise to full-on panic mode, the nurse begins to explain. "Your neighbor called. She saw you faint on your porch."

Faint. Was that all?

Greta is still trying to wrap her head around what happened. Speaking of her head, it hurts like she's never experienced before. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

The nurse only receives a shake of the head from her patient. Greta simply wants to slip back into unconsciousness. As soon as she is left alone, she does just that.

A breeze tickles her bare stomach and chills her long legs. She attempts to stretch them, but finds their movement severely restricted. Before she can scream, a hand connects with her face, momentarily shocking her into silence.

"Don't make a sound. Do you understand me?" The silver flash of an oversized scalpel catches her eye, but what scares her more is the familiarity of the voice.

It's only a dream again. Only a dream. Just play along until you wake up.

Greta's mouth is stuffed with a rubber ball, making an intelligible response difficult, so she nods slowly. "Good girl."

After convincing herself this must be a dream, she is able to calm herself long enough to take in her surroundings and the gorgeous dream-man before her. The room is empty besides the stirrup-ed chair she is attached to spread-eagle and a tray that the man is fiddling with. The clink of metal sends a shiver up her spine, but his body blocks most of her view.

White bare walls. That sterile smell. She is still in the hospital... in a hospital.

He turns to face her, scalpel still in hand. His smile would be stunning if there wasn't such a crazed look to it. Similarly, the striking green eyes would make her melt in normal circumstances, but they carry a mischievous twinkle. He stands over her... towers over her, seeming abnormally tall. His chest is broad and she is sure the white jacket is hiding muscular arms.

She bites her lip as he moves towards her with the scalpel, only letting out a quite whimper as he slices the straps of her bra. He takes hold of her newly-freed mounds and she has to tilt her chin up to avoid the tip of the metal still in his hand. His fingers seem unusually nimble as he rolls her perfect pink nipples into little pebbles.

How quickly her body responds to his touch. Embarrassed, she doesn't look him in the face, but she senses a triumphant smile on his lips. Having accomplished this, his hands disappear for a moment, allowing Greta to cautiously lower her chin.

The scalpel isn't threatening to pierce her neck anymore, but it is dangerously close to the dip between her breasts. Her gargled protests are calmly hushed then he tells her, "Just stay perfectly still. Trust me." The smooth, soothing voice sounds like it should be coming from someone much more trustworthy. Greta's breath catches in her throat as she feels the cold metal softly touching her skin.

He glides it gently without puncturing or scraping the skin all the way down her torso. The dangerous object traces her hip before dipping down to the only clothing she has on. It slides under the waistband and she tenses.

In one quick, swift motion the elastic snaps. After a terrifying trail across her lower abs, it nestles into the band on the opposite side. He pauses there and she slowly lets out the breath she had been trapping in her lungs, unable to hold it any longer. She's about to beg him to get on with it when his other hand plunges between her legs.

A muffled cry escapes her lips, but she is unsure whether it is more from pleasure, surprise, or pain. He fully disconnects her panties and tears them away before setting them and the instrument on the cart.

"I told you to stay still." His voice is stern and hinting anger. Greta starts to respond, but he pinches down on her sensitive clit, silencing her except for a soft mew. His mouth finds the small cut that his surprise fingering caused.

The suckling sensation is amazing and she is soon squirming beneath him. His tongue begins making larger swirls which then begin migrating toward her awaiting womanhood where multiple strong fingers are pumping inside her. She is dripping by the time his warm mouth reaches her nether lips.

His tongue makes one long sweep then disappears. The rubber ball garbles her words, but it is clear she is desperately begging for more. "No, no. You must wait. We have other plans first." She cranes her neck to see what he is picking up from the cart.

"Curious little creature aren't you?" he says when he finally turns back around. Her stomach flips when she sees his new instrument. "You know what this is for don't you, you dirty little girl?"

He wastes no time in adjusting the stirrups higher and wider until tears trickle from the corners of her eyes, not only from the straining position, but from embarrassment and fear. She feels cool metal at her entrance then sucks a lung-full of air as he slides the speculum into her sopping slit.

The sound of it engaging is loud in the quite room, but soon her panting surpasses it as he stretches her wide. She writhes on the chair and begs him to remove the large, hard steel contraption. He caresses her thighs, moving slowly to the place where they meet. She begins squirming again and when her hips rise, he slides his hands beneath her.

His grip is rough, but she hardly notices until he slides a finger into a space that is rarely touched. A moan escapes her lips and her face grows red, ashamed by her obvious enjoyment of his degrading assault. She bucks her hips toward the hot breath that tickles her gaping hole as he peers inside her, the metal opening framing a clear view of her cervix.

She is teetering on the very edge of orgasm and he knows it. Despite the debasing position, the taboo actions of his fingers, and the shameful device jutting from between her cramping legs, she is more turned on than ever.

"In good time, my pet." Her protesting whines go ignored as he leaves the place she needs him most. He disappears behind her, out of her sight range and suddenly she is fearful again.

The chair tilts backwards, rushing blood to her head. He eases it even further until she is nearly upside down, head almost touching the floor. Above her stands his enormous member, finally free from the white scrubs. A crank allows him to bring her mouth to his awaiting manhood a few lurching inches at a time.

She objects from behind the rubber ball until he tweaks one of her sensitive buds painfully. "You will do what I tell you to do," he commands sternly, undoing the gag. His voice, those words, the anticipation send pleasurable shivers through her body. Never has she had a fantasy quite like this one.

Her jaw aches from being held open so long, but it is not empty for long. She closes her eyes as if that will make the large choking hazard disappear, but she feels him gliding along her pursed lips.

"Open up." His voice is calm, but adamant. When she doesn't comply, he gives her a short, sharp slap to the cheek. Her mouth eases open, trying not to allow him to fully enter, but he continues leaning into it. He caresses her throat as he says, "Relax, pet. You will take me, all of me. Don't fight it."

She reluctantly does as she's told until he starts pumping faster. When she attempts to turn her head and pull away, he grasps her hair, pinning her recalcitrant head. This sends a tingling sensation straight to her loins. Her body's responses vastly oppose those of her panicking mind.

He seems to grow inside her mouth, probing deep down her throat. His hands find her tender breasts again, eliciting a moan from her lips that surrounds his member with vibrations. Both of them are now reaching their limits.

A few pumps more and he buries himself to the hilt, pumping hot liquid straight down her throat. She milks him with her throat and slinks her tongue around him as he slides out of her mouth, unable to stop herself. She is panting as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the chair.

"Cum hard for me, pet," he whispers and he removes the speculum. With that, he dives three fingers into her aching opening, curling them back to find the spot that finally sends her reeling.

She opens her eyes and sits up quickly when she realizes she can move her legs freely again. Her head no longer hurts, but every movement sends shockwaves into her body through the ultra-sensitive area at the apex of her tender legs. She reaches down and immediately realizes these are not the panties she woke up in before her dream... It was a dream wasn't it?

CHAPTER 3: Kidnapped

The last thing Greta wanted to do was go to work. Had any of them heard about her "fainting spell" on her front porch or her stay in the hospital? Would they give her a hard time about skipping out on them for the millionth time?

No, they'll probably just ignore her like usual... like everyone does.

These questions distract her so much that she doesn't notice the white van following her car into the parking garage. She parks her small black coupe in her usual spot without much thought. Windows are rolled up, radio is turned down, her phone is accounted for. Greta does all these things routinely, habitually.

Meanwhile, the mysterious white van parks between her and the elevator. The click of her modest heels is the only sound in the quiet, nearly-empty garage. She's early.

"Greta?" Her head turns in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. "You're going to have to come with me."

"What?" She is already turning away from the man by the white van, but her progress is stopped quickly when she bumps into his partner.

"Don't scream. Just get in the van." A gun in her face freezes her in place.

"P... please. Just let me go. I don't know how you know me, but..." The man with the gun grabs her collar and leads her toward the opening doors. He pulls her in with him while the other slams the doors before walking to the driver seat.

"Don't do this... please... please let me go. What do you want?" Her voice cracks noticeably.

"Take your clothes off."

"What? No!"

"Now." The click of the gun gives her all the encouragement she needs to slip her jacket off.

"What are you doing, man?" the driver asks his partner cautiously.

"Just drive," he demands before directing his attention back to his prisoner. "And you better hurry up. I'm getting impatient."

"Don't make me do this please."

"Oh you'll be doing much worse for him." Greta shivers and asks him to explain, but he only laughs.

"I don't think this is a good idea. Just leave her alone," the driver attempts again. All three jump when a phone rings, and Greta's tormentor holsters his gun to answer it.

"Yes we have her... no... no I haven't touched her... yes sir... wouldn't dream of it." He clicks the phone shut and Greta can feel the anger radiating off of him. "You're lucky, bitch. Get your coat back on."

The van is silent during the remainder of the drive. Despite her attempts, Greta is unable to keep track of what direction they are taking her. Finally, they slow to a stop and she can see the top of a gate through the windshield from her position on the floor. They bump along a long dirt road lined with trees on either side. A sick feeling in Greta's stomach is growing stronger by the second and she fights the urge to cry.

"Say anything about earlier and you'll be sorry," her fellow passenger grumbles. She simply nods without taking her eyes off the tree tops that flash by one after another, marking her increasing distance from civilization.

Her captors usher her inside roughly, giving her little time to take in the enormous mansion before her. They stop inside an entryway like something from a movie – magnificent staircase, chandeliers, sculptures, and heavy red drapes on the floor to ceiling windows. Her eyes dart in every direction until they settle on movement at the top of the stairs. At first, the statuesque figure is enough to take her breath away, but as he descends, she feels faint, nauseous, and terrified all at the same time.

Without thinking, her legs propel her back towards the door, but the two goons who brought her here immediately halt her progress. The escape attempt ends with her flailing helplessly, wrapped in strong arms that turn her to face the man who has now reached the foot of the stairs and is only steps away.

"Nothing to be scared of, my dear... Look at me." When the handsome man realizes Greta is not going to respond he places two strong fingers below her chin. "Obey me and you'll be rewarded, but chose not to and you'll be punished. It's simple, pet."

That stunning smile. Those striking green eyes. The powerful, broad chest. Even the familiar musky scent. It's him - the man that has been haunting her dreams.