A Marriage of Convenience

"That's my girl." Sara jumped, realizing that her captor had slid back around behind her again. He slid his hand into her hair again as he climbed onto the bed, preventing her from bashing her skull into his face. He pressed up against her backside, grinding an obvious erection into the cleft of her ass, holding her hips tight against it. Sara shuddered at the feeling of denim sliding against her skin so intimately, her nipples prickling, and a humiliating wetness between her legs.

She was furious, but at herself. Her entire life she had spent wondering what was wrong with her, why she was unlike other girls, why boys—and even girls—were generally so unappealing to her. Now, while she was being held against her will by a pervert who was grinding up against her, her body was suddenly getting interested. She gritted her teeth in annoyance.

"Why don't you just fuck me and get it over with?"

"That would spoil the fun. You're here for a reason, lovey. Are you hungry?"

Sara's head still hurt so much she felt nauseous. "No."

"Bedtime for you, then. Sleep it off, sweetheart." He released her and untied the silk ribbon that had been wrapped around her ankles, locking it in a built-in cabinet behind a sliding wall panel that took up nearly the entire wall she was facing. He noticed a large wet spot on the crotch of his jeans.

"Oh... god!" Sara said, disgusted. Mostly at herself.

The man smiled and made a big show of running his finger over it and bringing it to his mouth. "Don't worry love, it'll wash out. And you taste divine." He headed for the door. "The bathroom is around the corner."

"But—"

The door shut behind him, and the lights dimmed. A moment later, the grinding started again, and her weight dropped to the bed. Stunned, she sat there, the chain unspooling and slithering into her lap.

Sara explored the small rooms with her new-found "freedom." She stood on the bed, wavering a little on the unsteady surface. From this vantage, she was closer to the ceiling, but still not close to touch. In her lifetime, Sara had cursed being only 5'4" many times; here was no different. Peering at the small hole from where the chain dropped, she could only see darkness.

There was no other furniture beside the bed and wall cabinet, and only the one door, which was also locked, of course. There was a large but simple mirror in a frame that seemed fixed to the wall, but Sara was sure it was really one-way glass. Peering into it, however, revealed nothing visible on the other side. It might have been a room in a basement somewhere, for there were no windows, and the temperature was cool.

The bathroom was indeed around the corner, a spacious-enough en suite with an impressively large shower. Sara could just reach the toilet with the slack in the chain, and there was a small packet of toiletries. She awkwardly made use of the toothbrush with her bound hands and crawled into the bed, wondering if her life would ever seem normal again.

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