Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title : Caged Kitten

   Author : MeatBot

   Keywords : Rape, Mf

   Date : 20141018

   Mail : meatbot777 at gmail dot com

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   Synopsis : Teen girl is imprisoned by one of her perverted neighbors. 
It has forced sex and rape, though written mildly, and in the end all turns
out well.

   Disclaimer : Copyright by the author.  Permission is granted to archive,
repost, or publish in no-cost or low-cost archives, periodicals,
anthologies of this type of material if unaltered and attributed to the
author.  This is a work of fiction.  The author does not condone any sexual
activity among persons under 16 in real life.

   These are just words, people.  Just words.  If you have a problem with
words see a competent shrink or an English teacher.  This is a story that
came out of a dream I had after watching Silence of the Lambs, which is why
some parts may not make complete sense.  Blame my subconscious.  You have
been warned.



   --==+==-

   Stormi Sincere didn't really like her name.  A lot of the other kids at
school made fun of it.  She finally just learned to put her head down, and
deal with it.  She was just glad that her mom had started her out in school
with just her middle initial, instead of her actual name.  Nobody knew her
middle name, and nobody would, if she had her way.  She just told people
she didn't have a name, just an initial.  An "F".  Most people accepted
that.  Some of her friends called her by her initials, kind of, they called
her "STFU Sincere", at least in notes and such, which amused her.  She
liked that more than her name.

   Anyway.  She was a fairly normal fourteen year old girl, living in a
fairly normal small town, in a fairly normal state.  There wasn't really
anything about her that wasn't fairly normal.  She's so normal, I'm not
even going to really describe her, except to say that she's a brunette,
long, waist-length hair, dark and dusky, and really exceptionally
beautiful, when you stopped and looked.  At first glance most folks passed
her over, but she often got second glances.  And third, and fourth.  She
had that special something, that charisma, or whatever you want to call it.
She was special, in spite of being normal.

   Everybody noticed it, eventually.  Some people quicker than others, like
Mr.  Grody, who lived down on the corner from her.  He was the neighborhood
weirdo.  Every neighborhood has one, it seems.  He was an older gentleman,
probably in his mid fifties, and I say gentleman loosely.  He was not very
gentle.  He bitched at the kids for walking in his yard.  He bitched at the
garbage men if any trash fell on the ground and they didn't pick it up.  He
bitched at the manager of the local Walt-Mart if they didn't have exactly
what he wanted, which was pretty much every time he visited.  He was one of
those people that most folks avoided.  But, just because he was a gripy,
whiny old man doesn't mean he was evil or anything.  But, most folks that
had been in town a long time knew the real truth behind him.  He was evil.
Or rather, he had been evil, in the past.  He had done time, back in the
seventies, for beating a woman, and trying to kidnap another one.  Shit
like that.  That had been a long time ago.  You had to give people a break,
at some point.  Now, most people just treated him like a whiny old
bitchpot, and avoided him.

   Anyway, Mr.  Grody seemed to have a soft spot for Stormi.  Well, and any
other cute girl, but her in particular.  Nobody but her knew it, but he
always bought Girl Scout cookies from her, and stuff like that.  Lots of
it, usually, and he liked to stand at his door and talk to her as he did.
He would always say "howdy" to her when she walked by on the way to and
from school, if he was out.  And, he was usually out, to make sure the kids
didn't walk in his yard.  Maybe he liked her because she never walked in
his yard.  Then again, maybe he liked her because she was cute, and... 
dare I say it...  sexy.  Who knows.

   Stormi knew.  She could tell he was undressing her with his eyes.  She
felt it.  She avoided him, as best she could, which wasn't hard, since she
hardly every saw him.  She knew, though, at least subconsciously, that he
perved over her.  She could just feel it.  She knew he was a dirty old man.
On those rare occasions that he ran into her, though, he treated her like a
long lost friend, and would want to stop and talk.  She always did, just to
be polite, but she avoided him if she could see him coming.  And those damn
breath mints.  He always offered her a breath mint.  He was always sucking
on one.  He probably needed to, she thought.  But it made her paranoid
about her own breath.  I mean, she thought, why is he always offering me
one?  Am I that bad?  Mr.  Grody, more than her dentist, was responsible
more than anything for her excellent dental hygiene.

   She often saw him walking down the alley, shuffling, really, his head
down, as he returned from Walley World.  Carrying those white sacks.  He
kind of made her laugh, then.  She often sat out in her back yard, in the
porch swing, sometimes until well after dark.  One clear, beautiful summer
evening, she finished her chores up, well, that makes it sound like a lot,
actually all she had to do was clear the dishes, and help her little
brother scrape them and stuff them in the dishwasher.  Then she was free.
She called her friend Bethany on her phone, but Bethany and her family were
going to her Grandma's house.  Foot.  Nothing to do.  She wandered out into
the back yard, and sat in the swing, like she often did.

   The funniest thing was there, in the swing.  A stupid breath mint.  Oh
god, she thought, did he leave this for me?  He sees me sitting here when
he walks down the alley.  Did he leave this, for whatever reason he's
always trying to give me one?  What a weirdo.  She flicked it onto the
ground, and sat.

   It was a calm evening.  It slowly turned into night.  She opened her
eyes with a start.  What the hell was that?  She'd been asleep, or close. A
possum ran across her field of vision, and she laughed.  She looked at the
house.  All the windows were dark, except for Filbert's.  Filbert wasn't
really his name, Phillip was his name, but she called her little brother
Filbert, just to annoy him.  It was Tuesday night, her mom would be across
the street, at the Devlin's, playing poker.  She relaxed, checked her phone
for messages, and leaned back in the swing.  She felt restless, and bored.
She wished something would happen.

   Something did happen.  Somebody behind her clamped their hand over her
mouth, and pressed something into her neck.  She tried to scream, but she
couldn't even breathe at the moment, much less scream.

   "Don't make a peep," a voice whispered, "I got a taser on your neck. 
You don't wanna get tased, trust me."

   She didn't really know what a taser was, or what it did, but it was
beside the point, she couldn't even breathe.  The person finally stopped
pinching her nostrils, and she drew a shuddering gasping snuffle through
her nose.  She tried to struggle then, but the guy pressed the taser harder
into her neck, and clicked the switch for a brief second.  Searing pain,
centered around her neck, ran through her body.  She just froze, and
stopped all resistance.

   Now the guy had a problem.  She was in the swing, and he was behind it.
He finally just roughly dragged her over the back, and let her feet fall to
the ground.  She didn't even have the strength to stand.  Or the will to.
She realized by now that she was in deep trouble, and she knew that
trouble's name.  Mr.  Grody.  She could almost recognize his scent.  You
bastard, she thought, you'd better not touch me or I'll...  I'll...

   She didn't know where to go from there.  She didn't have a dad, to stick
up for her.  She was mad enough, at that moment, to do her own sticking up
for.  If he'd just let her go.  And that damn taser thing, that had really
sucked.

   "Stand up!" he hissed at her, and pulled her up a little.  She stood,
and tried to kick him in the nuts, behind her.  She didn't even get close.

   "Uh uh!" he said, and pressed the taser to her neck again.  She froze,
out of fear, and was glad that he didn't fire it again.  He dragged her
towards the alley.  There wasn't even a gate, just an opening to walk
through.  In seconds they were in the alley, headed towards his house.

   Oh shit, oh shit, she thought.  I cannot let him take me into his house.
I just cannot.  Her mind raced for things to do, for ways to get away from
him.  God, she thought, he's strong for an old fart.  Stormi wasn't a big
girl, but she wasn't small, either.  She was, like I said, average.  But
she was powerless in his grasp, she felt like a little kid again.  He just
dragged her along, through the darkness, headed for his house, now barely a
few hundred feet away.

   It was Mr.  Grody, she now knew for certain.  They were right at his
house.  Shit!  she thought, how can he do this, how can he think he'll get
away with this, everybody knows he's a perv...  and she knew about the
stuff he'd done before, she'd heard people talking.  He'll be the first
suspect, she thought.  He'll be number one on the list.

   They were in his yard, now.  She didn't feel much satisfaction at being
right, though.  She was more scared than satisfied.  He dragged her around
back, to where two cellar doors lay opened.

   "Step up," he said, roughly, and she stepped over the concrete
threshold, and down into the cellar.  She did fight him then, taser or no
taser, but it was too late.  The two of them stumbled down the stairs, and
at the bottom he zapped her again with the taser.  Good, this time.  She
collapsed to the ground, quivering, unable to speak, or scream or anything.
He dropped her, and went back up the stairs to close the doors.  By the
time he returned she had recovered a little, but she still couldn't stand.
He went to a large water tank in the corner, and put his back into it,
shoving it aside.  He fiddled with the wall behind it, and then came back
to her and roughly pulled her to her feet.  He took her to where the water
tank had been.  A small doorway was now exposed, and it was dark inside. 
She fought him again, and she finally was able to scream.  For just a
second, though, and his hand clamped again over her mouth.  She tried to
bite him, and he pressed to taser to her neck.

   "Don't make me," he said, and she stopped struggling.  He pushed her
head down, and shoved her through the hole.  She stumbled and fell, and
tried to get up in the darkness.  He had followed her through, and he
stepped on her as he tried to get situated.  He finally found a switch and
flipped on the light, and as she got to her feet she could hear the water
tank scraping the ground as he pulled it back over the small doorway.

   She turned to him, opening her mouth to scream, her hands out like
claws. She was ready to gouge his eyes out, if she had to.  He was a guy,
and bigger and stronger than her, but not that much bigger and stronger. 
He body was vibrating with adrenalin.  She knew that his was her only
chance.  She was in his basement, in his secret room.  She just didn't know
it was a secret room, yet.

   He held the taser in one hand, and now he had a small pistol in the
other.  Shit, she thought.

   "Scream if you wish.  No one can hear you in here.  No one.  This whole
room, and the door, is soundproofed," he said, waiting for her to attack.
He could see the panic in her eyes, and the trembling of her hands.  He
knew he had to break her spirit, and quick.

   "Don't make me tase you again.  And don't make me shoot you.  Look. 
Look behind you."

   She didn't trust him enough to look.  He motioned again, somewhere
behind her.  She finally turned, and glanced for a second behind her, and
then back to him.  She'd seen what looked like a large hole, dug in the
earthen floor that was still in that corner.

   "That's your grave, if you don't behave," he said.  "I'll put you in
that, and no one will ever find you.  Nobody even knows this room exists. I
dug it myself.  It's not on the plans of this house, even if they exist
somewhere."

   "You bastard!" she screamed at him, feeling powerless.  She was
breathing so hard right now she was almost hyperventilating.  She felt like
she could kill him with her bare hands, if he hadn't been armed.

   "Get used to it.  Turn around," he said.  She just stood there, staring
at him, trying to burn him up with her hatred.

   "Turn around!" he said, coming towards her with the taser.  She flipped
him off, and turned, turning her back to him like she didn't care, like she
wasn't scared shitless.

   He must have put the gun back in his pocket, because he grabbed her
again, his arm around her neck.  She didn't struggle.  Now is not the time,
she told herself.  Let it go.  You will have your moment.

   She looked up, as he dragged her forward.  There, right in front of her,
was a cage.  Her mouth almost dropped open.  Seriously, a cage?  This
almost seemed like something out of a bad movie by now.  She almost stopped
and shook her head.

   The front of the cage was made out of some kind of thick clear plastic,
an inch thick, at least.  Metal strips ran up and down where the sheets
were fitted together.  A door with piano-case hinges stood open, and he
shoved her in it, and shut the door.  There were two clasps, one at the
top, and one at the bottom, and he slid padlocks through each one.  She
ignored him for a moment, and turned and looked.  The main body of the cage
was made of steel beams with separated metal welded to them.  The floor was
some kind of hard plastic.  There was a cot in one corner, with a single
pillow and blanket.  A small toilet chair was in the other corner.  A table
and a single chair was at the front, on the side where the door was not. 
In the middle, close to where she was standing now, was a slot, covered
over at the moment, but hinged to allow it to swing down.  At several
places on the front of the cage dozens of holes were drilled in the
plastic, assumably to allow airflow or conversation.  She turned to stare
at him.

   "You have got to be fucking kidding me," she finally said.  He just
stared at her.

   "A cage?  I mean, really?  A fucking cage?" she said, almost laughing.
She felt hysteria just a moment away.  Get a grip, she told herself.

   "Stormi," he finally said, still just staring at her, "this is your new
home, until you learn to appreciate me.  Get used to it.  Accept it, and
things will get better.  Fight me, and you eventually will not exist."

   "Shit," she just shook her head, and looked at him.

   "And watch your language.  Young ladies do not cuss," he said.  She felt
hysteria bubbling just beneath her surface.  Here she was, in a cage in a
crazy old man's basement, and he was lecturing her on her language.

   "You better look around your new home in a hurry," he said.  "Until you
prove you deserve it, I'm not leaving the lights on when I leave."

   Oh shit.  The reality set in, and that.  She did not want to be down her
alone, in the dark.  She plastered herself against the front of the cage,
fighting down tears.

   "Mr.  Grody...  please," she hated herself for begging.  "Please don't
turn out the lights...  I'll be good..."

   "It won't be totally dark.  There is a red LED for my cameras in there.
But, like I said, you need to earn it.  We will start right now.  Just be
good and do what I say, and everything will be okay.  Okay?"

   She nodded, hating herself again.  She made a vow, that instant, that
she would have her vengeance on this motherfucker.  On this crepuscular old
fart who dared to put her in a cage.  She would live, for no other reason,
from here on out, to see his sorry ass in prison, or dead.  So help me god,
she told herself.  So help me god.

   He double-checked the locks, and turned to leave.

   "I'll be bring you breakfast in the morning.  Just stay calm and quiet,"
he said, and flipped off the lights.  It was instantly, absolutely dark. 
She heard the scrape of the water tank.  She heard the inner door shut, and
the tank scraped again.  Then there was silence.

   In the upper front left corner of the prison cell, she saw a red LED
shining.  Another shone from the left rear corner.  So, she realized, that
was where the cameras were.  Right before he had left, she had hurriedly
looked around the basement, just to try and familiarize herself with her
surroundings.  In the far corner stood a regular toilet, looking funny all
out in the open by itself.  A sink was nearby.  A table and a few shelves
were pretty much it.  In the other corner was some kind of weightlifting
machine.  And that was it.

   Ha ha, you stupid old bastard, she thought, pulling her phone out of her
pocket.  She pushed the button, and it lit up, illuminating her face and a
few feet around her.

   Shit!  No signal!  She shook it, feeling hysteria mount again.  Her
hands trembled and she fumbled with the screen, going to messages.  She
sent a misspelled text to Phillip, saying simply "Mr Grody house", but it
didn't send.  No signal.  She felt tears running down her face.  She
finally went to the cot, and slumped down, her back against the smooth wall
of the cage.  She did cry then, she cried her eyes out.  For an hour or
two, at least.  She felt helpless, and alone, so alone.  I cannot
understand this, she told herself, I cannot understand why he is doing
this. He could have raped her in the back yard, if he had wished that.  He
could have just raped her and left her.  That would have been better than
this.  She had seen the hole in the floor.  He'd called it her grave.  She
wondered if she'd go into that hole, eventually, no matter what.  He
wouldn't dare turn her loose, after this.

   She realized that as dark as it was, the two red LED lights in the
corners of the cage provided a minimum of illumination.  Now that an hour
or so had passed, and her eyes had adjusted, she could see pretty good, in
fact.  She could make out the cot, and the toilet chair, and the other
chair and table.  There was something on the table.  She rose and went to
it, walking carefully, since it was still plenty dark.  One the table was
what looked like a stack of books, and several bottles of water.  She
opened one, and sniffed it experimentally.  Just smells like water, she
thought.

   She jumped as some kind of buzzer went off.  A few seconds later it
buzzed again.  She had no idea what it meant.  She returned to the cot. 
She looked at her phone for a second, to see what time it was.  A bit past
nine.  Her mother wouldn't be home for another hour, she realized.  She
wouldn't be missed, until then.

   She realized about that time, in all the confusion and craziness of the
abduction, that she had wet herself.  Not a whole lot, but enough to be
uncomfortable.  It was slowly drying, but it would take a day or two for
that to happen, if he didn't give her more clothes.

   Hours later, she was depressed.  Really depressed.  She realized that
she wasn't going to be found immediately.  Don't those idiots know?  She
thought.  Can't they figure this out?  Who the hell else would do it?  Who
else but this guy?

   She drank some water, and finally lay on the cot, and curled up under
the blanket.  It seemed hopeless to her, it they weren't going to find her
right away.  She was in his hands, now.

   She had no idea how long she'd slept.  She looked at her phone, but it
was just a number.  She didn't remember when she'd lain down.  She finally
heard the water tank being moved, and she got up and waited until he
flipped on the light.  She watched him enter the basement.  She didn't say
anything, she didn't want to start the conversation.

   He had brought some food.  He opened the feeding slot, and placed the
plate on it.  She smelled scrambled eggs and saw toast.  Her stomach
betrayed her by growling.  She just stared at him, willing him to feel
sorry for her and let her go.

   He didn't.  He finally spoke, and it seemed like to her that he gloated.
"I can't stay long.  I'm helping look for you."

   "You pathetic bastard," was all she managed.

   "Lot of excitement around her early this morning.  Cops even showed up.
I took them all through the house, even down into the cellar.  Lots of
excitement, over a little runaway girl."

   She just shook her head.  She believed him, actually.  She knew her
mother would never believe she ran away.  Where would she run to?  There
wasn't anybody.  She had no money.  She had no street-smarts.  She knew her
mom wouldn't believe that, for an instant.  She wished she'd told her mom
about Mr.  Grody, before this.  But, then, she wished lots of things.  Wish
in one hand, and shit in the other, as her uncle used to say.

   "I guess you figured out your phone doesn't work, down here," he
continued, "you are in a Faraday cage.  No signal can get in, or out. 
Otherwise I would have taken it off of you.  I've tried five different
phones down here, including one just like yours.  None of them even came
close."

   He finally left.  Just for the hell of it, she tried her phone again. 
Nothing.  She looked at the time.  It was hard for her, without sunlight or
nighttime to help her judge the passage of time.  It was day, her phone
said it was daytime outside, and the day passed slowly.  She badly wanted
to play games on her phone, but she didn't want to run the battery down. 
She still tried to text every now and then, hoping that at least one
message would make it out.  None ever did.

   Mr.  Grody made a few brief appearances, to give her a meal in-between
lunch and dinner, and brief her on the search party progress.  He seemed to
find that amusing, and it pissed her off even more.  She didn't want to
give him any satisfaction, so she tried her hardest to show no reactions to
the things he said.

   When her phone finally said it was midnight, she crawled onto the cot,
covered up, cried a while, and finally she slept.

   Day two was much like day one.  Boring.  She finally opened one of the
books he'd placed on the table, and dropped it in disgust.  It looked like
school shit.  Old school shit, at that.  She figured these were the books
that Mr.  Grody had had in school, they looked that old.  The second one
down was math and shit.  She hated math.

   Day three was more of the same.  Boredom overtook fright.  She thought
she was going to go absolutely crazy, and she thought it would serve him
right.  When he came to feed her she begged shamelessly for a TV to pass
the time.

   Day four was so bad she began to go through the books on the table. 
They were all old school books basically, and she read the ones with
stories in them, as old and silly as they were.  She told Mr.  Grody when
he brought lunch and dinner, that he needed to get some new textbooks.  He
just smiled and left.

   By the fifth day, Mr.  Grody was spending more time with her.  Night
time.  He was upstairs during the day, helping with the search for her.  At
night, part of the night, anyway, he was downstairs in the basement, with
her.  That night, the fifth night, was one she would remember for a long
time.  Well, it goes without saying all this shit she'd remember, but this
one stood out.  It was the beginning of her humiliation.

   He stood in front of the cage, and spoke to her.  He had already had her
to pass her blanket through the food slot, so he could wash it.

   "Stormi.  I am going to leave for a moment.  Undress, and pass your
clothes through the slot, so I can wash them."

   She regarded him coldly.  "So you can perv over me?  Hardly.  Give me my
blanket back."

   "The blanket is in the dryer.  It is still wet.  Stormi, you must
cooperate, or you know the consequences.  Darkness, and no food."

   "I know you watch me on those cameras.  You just want to see me naked."

   "No.  Just throw your clothes out, all of them.  You have five minutes,
and then your punishments will begin if you do not."

   Shit.  She just stood and stared at him.  You know, she thought, I
really don't care.  It will only increase my chances to escape if he comes
in here or I go out there.  Especially that.  If he sees me, so what? 
Maybe something will happen, then.  Maybe some chance will come up.

   He left the basement, like he said.  She stripped down, quickly, taking
everything off, only stopping for a moment to shoot the bird at the
cameras. She stuffed the clothes out the food slot, and then went over to
the cot.  She turned it on it's side, and squatted behind it, hiding her
body from him, at least.

   She halfway thought maybe he was actually going to wash her clothes, and
she thought, they need it.  Her panties especially, where she'd peed on
herself.  Damn, she'd worn them like five days now.

   He returned, and regarded her with amusement.  "You can't live like
that, my dear," he said, gathering up her clothes.

   He turned.  "I'm sorry to deceive you.  I now have your clothes.  You'll
get them back when you earn them.  One piece at a time.  Thank you for
understanding."

   Shit.  She just stared at him.  The bastard.  The goddam bastard.  Now
what?  He was right, she couldn't hide behind the cot forever.  She slowly
stood, staring at him, and turned the cot back upright.  She flipped him
off, slowly, shaking her hand at him, and then lay down on the cot.  At
least it was warm enough in here that she wouldn't freeze.

   The next day he pulled up a chair, and sat on the other side of the
glass, and basically watched her.  She was beautiful, to him.  Well, she
would have been beautiful to anyone, but she especially was to him, in his
obsessiveness.  She had long smooth legs, and a thin muscular waist.  Her
breasts were about average size, for a girl her age, and topped with two
pink fleshy nipples.  Her arms were muscular, and even her neck was sexy to
him.  He could just imagine nibbling on it.  Her hair was long and
beautiful.  It was so long, in fact, that she had now sat in the chair, and
crossed her legs, and covered her breasts with her hair.  He didn't care,
he had her on camera.

   He had two cameras in opposite corners of the cage, and everything they
took was motion-triggered, and going to an encrypted drive, in the
background.  The cops had even examined his computer.  The idiots.  They
were so dumb, he thought, they hadn't checked the processes running in the
background.  Of course, he'd changed the names of anything suspicious,
anyway.  And, the cameras were wireless, and encrypted.  No cables to
trace. He'd planned this shit for twenty years, probably.  For way longer
than this girl was old.  He didn't plan on screwing up, this time.  This
one was for keeps, either way you looked at it.

   She just sat there and stared at him, and he stared back.  Even if he
couldn't see her body, he was happy to stare her in the face.  She was the
most beautiful thing in the world to him.  He loved her desperately, and
insanely.  He loved her more than anything, although he was hurting her. 
In his mind he was doing the right thing.  He was going to make her love
him.  She deserved it, as much as he did.

   "Mr.  Grody," she finally said, stirring him from his revere.  "What
exactly do you want from me?  Help me understand."

   He was silent for a long time.  Just when she thought he wasn't ever
going to answer, he spoke.

   "Just your love, and obedience.  Your mind, heart, body and soul." He
finally said.

   Shit.  That didn't help her much.  She wasn't sure what she'd hoped he
would say, anyway.  He'd said everything, and nothing.

   "Okay," she said, "you've got it.  Just let me out of here."

   He smiled, and shook his head.  "Stormi.  I'm not an idiot.  We both
know it's not that easy.  It will take time.  It will take time to just see
if you are coming over to me."

   Well, she thought, it was worth a try.  She just sat there and stared at
him.  He finally had enough of looking at her, and stood.  He waved, and
left the basement.  She crawled back onto the cot.

   The potty chair was hard for her to get used to.  Not peeing, peeing
wasn't a problem.  Pooping was the problem, for her.  The first time she
did it, she was embarrassed at the smell it made.  When he finally came, he
smelled it, and told her to pass the bowl through the food slot, so he
could dispose of it.  She finally did, she just wanted to get it out of
there.  He just stood there, and examined it like it was some great special
something, she thought.  That was really embarrassing to her, for some
reason.  That he paid that much attention to her shit.  She halfway
expected him to start digging around in it or something.  Finally he took
it and flushed it down the toilet in the corner.  She shuddered.  The
creep. The fucking creep.

   She didn't know it, but she'd been in the basement a week.  She had lost
all track of time.  Even looking at the date on her phone, on those rare
moments when she turned it back on, meant nothing to her.  She couldn't
even remember when he'd taken her.  Her mind was numb, with the reality of
her captivity, and the overwhelming boredom of it.

   On the seventh day, her training began.



   --==+==-

   It was night, but she didn't know it.  He appeared, and fed her a small
sandwich.  She gobbled it up, and drank some bottled water, and then sat,
just staring at him.  She was so bored that even he was starting to seem
interesting.  Don't let that happen, she told herself.  She had had a
teacher once that read them a story about the Stockholm Syndrome, where
prisoners began to sympathize with their captors.  She was determined not
to allow that to happen.  She tried to keep that foremost in her mind.

   She no longer minded that he saw her naked.  That quick, it didn't seem
to bother her.  She no longer tried to hide anything.  He got an eyeful
every time he came in.  It just didn't bother her anymore.  Well, she knew
she was always kind of an exhibitionist.  But not for dirty old men.  She
mooned the boys at school enough times that a teacher had finally gave her
a talking-to about it.  She'd been the first to strip and dive in the
swimming hole, when she went skinny-dipping with the other girls.  And
she'd thought, if the boys were here, I'd do the same.  It wouldn't bother
me.

   She had plenty of time now to practice not being bothered.  He seemed to
be spending more and more time down with her, probably because of that.  He
loved to sit and just watch her, like a collector gets out his favorite
coin or butterfly and pores over it.  She satisfied some deep something
inside of him.  She made him feel good.



   --==+==-

   The next part of her training excited him.  He had looked forwards to
this for a long time.  Way before he knew she was the one.  He brought a
small TV set, a small flat screen and remote into the room.  He set it
where she could see it.  She did, immediately, and eagerly asked if it was
for her.  He nodded.

   "Yes, but you'll have to allow me in the cage to hook it up," He said.
She nodded.  She didn't care if he came in, she just wanted a TV.  He went
to the far wall, and picked up the end of a rope.  When he stretched it
out, it almost reached to the front wall of her cage.  It was hooked to a
ring in the wall.  On the other end, the cage end, was a large hook with a
snap to close it.  He motioned to her.

   "Stick your hands through the slot," he said, and she did, somewhat
hesitantly.  He pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket, and had one
snapped around her wrist before she reacted, and pulled her other hand
back.

   "Stormi.  You must let me do this if I am to open the door," he
patiently waited for her to argue it out with herself, and she finally
stuck her other hand through the slot.  He snapped the handcuff around it,
and then reached down and got the end of the rope.  He snapped the hook
around the handcuff chain, and now she was bound, her hands through the
slot, her body fairly immobilized.  She realized that now he'd be able to
do anything he wanted to her.  Well, that was the point they'd been at for
a week now.  Just now, though, she couldn't fight back.  She was tied.

   He took a roll of cable, and screwed it into a wall jack, and then
screwed it into the back of the TV and tested it, after plugging the TV
into a light socket plug.  It seemed to be fine.  He unscrewed it, and
fished around in his pocket for the keys to the padlocks on her door.  He
opened them, and brought the TV and set it on the table.  He went back
outside and threaded the cable and power cord through two air holes in the
cage wall, and then re-entered the cage and plugged up the TV.  He tested
it again, and it seemed to work fine.  He changed the channel, turned it
off, and then put the remote in his pocket.

   He exited the cage again, and stood where she could see him.

   "Stormi," he spoke, "This next thing is for your own good.  I know that
you are a strong girl, and we have to break that, somehow.  This will be
the first time, and maybe the last, if you are obedient.  If you respond
well to the treatment.  Okay?"

   She didn't reply.  She was steeling herself for whatever he was going to
do.  She realized now that she'd made a mistake letting him tie her down
the way he had.  She realized by now that it was probably going to be bad.
She was right.

   He went to a box of stuff beside the door, and returned with a small
riding crop, the kind that horse racers use to whip their horses.  It had a
small fold of leather, on the end.  A tassel, kind of.

   She watched him with fearful eyes.  He came right into the cage, and
positioned himself behind her.  She didn't try to see him.  She finally
closed her eyes, and put her head down on her arms.  She tightened every
muscle in her body, waiting for the pain to begin.

   He stood beside her, staring at her beautiful ass.  He hated to do this,
well, not really, but he hated to mess up the beauty of her firm young
butt. He knew it would heal up, though.  All he was going to do was make
some red marks, anyway.

   When the first slap came, it wasn't that bad, she thought.  Maybe I'll
make it through this, she mused.  Maybe it won't be that bad.  The next hit
stung pretty bad, though.  And the third, even more.  The fourth hit where
she'd been hit before, and that one really burned.  She bit her tongue.  By
the tenth one, she tasted blood in her mouth.  By the twentieth, she
screamed.  She lost count, and howled.  She fought against the rope, the
handcuffs cutting into her wrists.  She gyrated and danced, trying to move
her bottom around and make him miss.  She succeeded sometimes, but it
didn't slow him down.  At some point he stopped, but she didn't really
notice it for a while.  She was awash in a sea of pain, her poor ass
sending her overloaded signals of hurt, piping it right into her brain.

   Stormi hadn't actually been hurt in years.  Well, minor scrapes and
bruises, but she'd never broken a bone, and rarely even broken skin.  She
didn't handle pain well, she knew that about herself.  But this.  This was
something she'd never imagined.  When she regained her senses, she was
almost hanging by her arms, her legs had turned to rubber.  Her ass still
smarted, enough to almost drive her crazy.  She finally got to her feet and
got the pressure off her arms from the food slot.  She felt tears still
streaking down her cheeks.  More than anything, she wanted to hurt him just
as bad as he had hurt her.  She just felt so powerless, though.

   He left the cage for a moment.  She stood, resting her head on her arms
again, and breathed deeply for a while.  Her ass still hurt like hellfire.
It burned, she thought.

   He returned, with a jar of something.  He dropped the lid on the floor,
and suddenly cool relief began to spread across her ass.  For a while, it
didn't even bother her that he was touching her ass, it felt so good.  It
just felt so damn good.  The pain didn't totally go away, but the chill of
the creme or salve or whatever it was felt great.

   She snorted, finally, "I hope you're enjoying yourself."

   His voice was confident, "not as much now as I'm going to."

   Oh shit, she thought, what does he mean by that?  Here I am, my hands
tied, and my ass sticking out?  What the hell is he going to do next? 
Shit, shit.

   He finished swabbing salve on her ass, and put the lid back on, and put
the stuff up.

   "Stormi," he said.  She just glared at him.  She was pissed off about
the whipping.  The pain was pretty much gone, now, but she figured it would
hurt to sit down.  She didn't ever remember, in her whole life,
experiencing pain like that.  She realized, to her disgust, that she would
probably do whatever she had to, to keep that from happening again.  She
felt like he had had a point, and proved it.  He had definitely won this
round.

   "I'm going to take advantage of your...  situation to bathe you.  It's
been a week, and I'm sure you'll feel better afterwards.  Just don't fight
me or I'll stop and leave, and you can be filthy a while longer."

   "You bastard," she said, gritting her teeth, "unlock me and I can do
that.  You just want to paw on me.  I know what you want."

   "Stormi.  That is unkind.  Let me do this, this one time, and show you
how.  Then, if you are able to keep yourself clean, I will allow you to do
it.  Understand?"

   Shit.  What choice did she have.  She just shut up, feeling like arguing
was pointless with him.  He was obviously crazy.  Just what he'd done so
far showed that.

   He left for a while, and returned with a basin of soapy water, and a
rag. She was getting pretty tired of her position, her back hurt, and her
legs felt like they were almost cramping.  But what the hell could she do?

   He soaked the rag, and she felt him run it down her back.  Then he
stopped.  That was it?  she thought.

   Suddenly she felt his hands upon her buttocks.  She instinctively knew
what had happened.  He had cracked.  He couldn't stand it anymore.  What
was going to happen next, only god knew.

   She squirmed and wiggled, and he clamped his hands firmly on her butt.
And it hurt, where he had whipped her.  It hurt when his hands touched
there.  She thought about trying to kick backwards, but she didn't figure
she'd be able to kick hard enough to matter.  He'd already shown himself to
be surprisingly stronger than he'd looked.  She figured he was guarding his
nuts, also.

   She felt something touch her, in-between her ass cheeks.  In her crack.
Oh, shit, she thought.  Sure enough, she could tell it was his face.  She
jerked as something touched her right on her anus.  Shit.  It was warm and
wet.  It was his tongue.  She squirmed, pain or no pain.  He dug his
fingers into her, painfully, and she stopped.  He licked her asshole, and
up and down her crack.  He licked her sweet little perineum.  He fell in
love with her all over again, licking her, tasting her.  And, oh, did she
have taste, back there.  She hadn't had a bath in a week.  All she'd had to
clean herself with was toilet paper.  But to him, she tasted sweeter than
the sweetest wine.  He almost felt high, licking her.  Basically, all he
could taste was shit.  But, it was the most fabulous, sweetest shit he'd
ever tasted.  She was just too much, he thought.

   He had dreamed about this for years.  It wasn't working out exactly like
his dreams, in his dreams the girl was a little more willing, and maybe a
bit younger, but you take what you can get.  He curled his tongue up into a
spike, and drove it into her soft young asshole.  The taste got even
stronger, then.  He drank her in, he gulped her, he consumed her.  He was
high, he thought.  He felt like he was drinking moonshine, like he was a
kid again.  His heart was pounding.  Something was buzzing in his ears.  He
was in heaven.  She was absolutely divine.

   Something was buzzing?  Shit!  He leapt up, and ran out of the cell.  In
a second he was through the hidden door, closing it, and she heard the
water tank being scooted back.  Well, shit, she thought.  She could feel
his saliva drying on her anus.  This is a fine mess, she thought.  God, she
wished she could sit down.

   He was gone forever.  She finally figured that she would just die, and
turn into a skeleton, hunched over the slot in the wall.  Shit.  When she
finally heard him scooting the tank back, she was pissed.

   "Mr.  Grody!" she started right in on him, as soon as he entered the
room.  "My legs are killing me!  I've been like this for hours!  For god's
sake, turn me loose, I've gotta move around some.  You are so mean to me!
First the whipping, and then this?"

   She moaned and whined, and he stood before her, seeming kind of
apologetic.  He finally closed the cell door, and locked the padlocks.  He
fished around in his pockets, and came out with a small key that he used to
unlock the handcuffs.  With a sigh of relief she stood, and placed both her
hands on her back, working out the kinks.  He watched her unabashedly,
still in love, still tasting her juicy asshole on his lips.

   She finally collapsed into the chair, and stretched.  She could feel her
tits bouncing up and down, but she didn't care.  Let him peep.  She just
wanted to rest, and get those kinks out of her back and legs.

   He still watched her, and thought about how she tasted.  His mind raced
for a way to do it all again.  He didn't figure she'd willingly stick her
hands through the slot to be handcuffed again.  Not for a while, at least.
He had a new plan, though.  Tonight.  He'd start on it, tonight.  But
first, he had some things to tell her.

   "That was the cops again," he told her, "that buzzer is the front door.
The cops were there.  They said they thought that they had left a radio in
the cellar, and wanted to look for it.  Yeah, right.  Anyway, they spent
about twenty minutes looking for the 'radio.' They didn't find it, or you.
Ha ha."

   That was depressing.  Cops had been right there, on the other side of
the door?  She wished she'd known, she would have screamed her lungs out.
If it would have done any good.  Well, it gave her a little hope, at least.
They were still looking for her.  And it seemed like they suspected Mr. 
Grody, at least a little bit.  She just hoped they didn't give up.



   --==+==-

   It was midnight.  He was keeping her up late.  Sleep deprivation was
part of his plan to make her more pliable.  But his secret weapon? 
Hypnosis.  He had read somewhere that girls were more suggestible than
boys. He hoped that this was true.  He knew that it was probably a bit
early, that her spirit wasn't really broken yet, when he figured that she
would be at her most suggestible.  But, he thought he'd try it.

   He had his lucky watch, his grandfather's old railroad watch.  He had
read dozens of books on the subject, and probably was actually fairly
knowledgeable on it.

   However, once again, at school, Stormi had studied under a teacher who
chose eclectic subjects at times.  One of them had been hypnosis.  He had
even hypnotized several students, until the school board had gotten
involved and told him to stop.  She was actually fairly knowledgeable about
it, too.  She knew enough to pretend, at least.

   First, he got her to scoot the table over a bit, and sit in the chair
right in front of the ventilation holes.  She sat there meekly, already
suspecting what he was planning on.  She didn't realize it was hypnotism
yet, but she knew he was up to something.

   He kept losing his train of thought, seeing the naked girl in front of
him.  He kept remembering the feeling of her body beneath his hands, and
the taste of her on his tongue.  She was sexy personified to him.  He
wanted to taste her, again.  He wanted to touch her, again.  He wanted her
bad.

   He sat his chair right in front of her, tearing his eyes off her tits.
Her beautiful, beautiful tits.  He forced himself back to the subject at
hand.  He drew the watch and long chain out of his pocket, and held it up,
by the clasp.

   "Stormi.  Please focus your attention on the watch," he said.  He began
to swing it back and forth.  He gave it ten or fifteen swings, and then
said, "you are growing sleepy..."

   Oh god, she thought, is this a joke?  She just couldn't believe he
thought this crap would work.  Part of what she'd read on the subject said
you couldn't be hypnotized if you didn't want to, and she sure didn't want
to.  But, she saw advantages if she pretended to be.  Maybe he would open
the door without handcuffing her.  Stuff like that.  He might even take her
out of the cell, or even let her go upstairs if he thought she was in his
control.

   She followed the watch with her eyes.  Back and forth, back and forth.
His voice droned.  She still didn't feel the slightest bit hypnotized,
although she wasn't sure what it would feel like anyway.  She finally let
her mouth fall open, and a minute later she pushed some slobber out with
her tongue.  She felt a long trail of drool land on her leg.  She hoped she
was putting on a convincing show.

   She was.  He almost cackled with glee.  This was working way better than
he'd ever planned.  She was sitting slackly in the chair, with a mindless
expression on her face.  Drool dripped off her chin.  Her mouth hung open.
He kept going for a while, and then stopped and just stared at her.

   "Stormi," he said, "Grasp your breasts in your hands.  Pull them out,
and show them to me."

   Shit, shit, shit, she thought.  Well, I've gone this far.  But shit. 
She didn't want to put on a little show for him, she wanted out of the
cage. But, she'd decided on this path.  She'd play it through.

   She did what he asked, grasped a breast in each hand, squeezing, and
pulled them up and out.  She tried her best to keep the same stupid look on
her face that she'd had.  He wasn't looking at her face, of course.

   Her tits looked so sexy to him, all squeezed like that.  The nipples
really stood out, this way.  I did that, he thought.  I made her do that.

   "Stormi.  Stand up." She stood, slowly, her face never changing.  He
cackled.

   "Stormi.  Turn around." She turned completely around, ending up facing
him again.  He made a face.

   "Stormi.  Turn halfway around." She did, and he stared at her fine ass,
his mouth watering.  He remembered the taste of her.  Suddenly, it seemed
within reach, again.

   "Stormi.  Bend over." There was some slight hesitation, there.  He
figured that her subconscious was fighting with her conscious, or
something. He didn't care, as long as she did it.  And, she did it.  She
bent at the waist, spreading her ass cheeks slightly.

   "Spread your ass with your hands." He said.  She didn't move.  He
repeated the command, louder.  Shit, he thought.  The fun is starting, and
she freezes on me.  Then he remembered.

   "Stormi.  Spread your ass with your hands." He said, and she complied.
He did giggle out loud then, and leaned forward, staring at her beautiful
asshole.

   God, she thought.  I hope this is worth it.  The goddam pervert.  She
felt cheap and dirty, and weirdly, a little turned on, too.  Everything
just kind of ran together in her mind.  She did feel naughty, though.  She
wondered how long he'd keep her like this.  She already felt a little
dizzy, with her head down and her ass in the air.

   "Stormi.  Move to the window." He said.  She stood, and turned, and
walked around the cell aimlessly.  She almost giggled, just because she was
fucking with him.  He finally figured out what the problem was.

   "Stormi.  Move to the food slot." He said, and she walked right to the
clear plastic wall, and stood directly in front of the food slot.  He just
let her stand there for a while, staring at her.  She was so beautiful, so
perfect...  he deserved her...  she deserved him...  he felt vindicated. 
This was the right thing to do, he knew it.

   He hesitantly reached his hand in the slot, and touched her pubic mound,
right above the split of her pussy.  He watched her carefully, but she
didn't move.  She just stood there, the same slack-jawed expression on her
face.  He traced down the slit a ways, and stuck his finger inside the
folds of her pussy.  He pulled it out, and sniffed it.  God, she smelled
good.  Good and strong, no bath in a week.  She smelled like pussy magnum,
or something.  He couldn't think of a way to describe it.  He stuck his
finger in again, and rubbed it up and down her slit.  She felt damp and
greasy to him.  He loved it.  He sniffed his finger again, and rubbed it
again.  He knew he would never get tired of this.  He finally just made
himself stop.  He kicked himself mentally for making the food slot three
inches too high.

   "Stormi.  Turn around."

   She did, all the way around, ending up like she was to start with.  How
literal she is, he thought.

   "Turn half way around." He could play the game, though.

   Shit.  She didn't move.

   "Stormi.  Turn half way around." That did it.  Now her fine, fabulous
ass was presented to him.  He reached through the slot, cussing it for
being so high.  He finally pulled the chair right up to the slot, and sat
in the chair on his knees, with his whole arm in the slot.  He caressed her
sweet ass, and ran his fingers up and down her ass-crack.

   "Stormi.  Bend over and spread your cheeks with your hand."

   Shit.  She did just that, putting her hands on her face, and pulling on
her cheeks.

   "Stormi.  Bend over and spread your ass cheeks with your hand." This was
actually tiresome, at times, he thought.  But rewarding.

   He stared at her ass, from just inches away.  He could smell it, this
close.  She smelled utterly fantastic to him.  His mouth watered.  He
plastered his hand into her ass-crack, running it up and down, and then
scrabbling it on her sweet asshole.  He rubbed and caressed her little
asshole, loving the feel of it beneath his fingers.  It felt damp, too. 
Maybe it was just sweaty.  He didn't care.  He rubbed it some more,
bringing his hand to his nose every now and then for a sniff.  For a
heavenly sniff.

   She was pretty tired of this shit, by now.  But she wanted to convince
him that his trick had worked.  She wanted to trick the trickster.  She
fucked with him, but she also was trying her best to be completely literal,
like she understood people under hypnosis were.  She felt like she'd done a
pretty good job of it.  He seemed to be fooled.  She wondered when he'd let
her out of the cage.  If she was being zombie-like enough.

   He wished the food slot was lower, and larger, so that he could back her
up to it and taste her again.  Shit.  Well, maybe in a few more days, if
this seemed to still be working, he could go in the cage and taste and
touch her, while she was malleable.  That was his ultimate goal.  Well,
that was part of his goal, his ultimate goal was her complete subservience,
and her love.  He actually wanted her to be in love with him.  He didn't
know it, but that would take more hypnotizing that even Houdini could have
come up with.

   She was feeling dizzy again.  She wondered how long she'd have to stand
there, ass in the air, letting him play with her asshole.  It did feel
kinda good...  she stopped that thought, when she realized what she was
thinking.  Goddammit, she thought, he's winning when you think stuff like
that.  Don't.

   After a few minutes of caressing her asshole, he finally decided that
he'd done enough for one day.  He'd proved his point, to both himself, and
her.  Although he didn't expect her to remember.  He hoped she didn't, at
least.  That will be a good test of my hypnotic powers, he thought.

   "Stormi.  Stand up.  Turn halfway around." She did, gratefully, but
hiding it with the dumb slack expression on her face.  She stared straight
ahead, like she wasn't even seeing him.  He noticed that, it was like she
seemed to be staring right through him.

   "Stormi.  When I snap my fingers, you will snap out of this hypnotic
trance.  You will remember nothing that happened while you were in it.  And
you will get a warm, fuzzy feeling when you see me, or think of me."

   That last part he just made up on the spot.  It couldn't hurt, he
thought.  He carefully raised his hand to her face, snapped his fingers
loudly.  She shook her head, and said, "what?"

   "What, darling?" He said.

   "Don't call me darling." She said.  "What was I saying?"

   "You said thanks for the TV."

   "Yes, Thanks for the TV, Mr.  Grody.  You may go now."

   He laughed at that last little command.  It was time for him to go back
upstairs and get some sleep, anyway.  He looked forward to trying this
again tomorrow.  He had never had any idea he was so good at it.



   --==+==-

   She watched him leave with relief.  The old pervert.  She was sure he'd
really gotten his rocks off pawing around on her ass.  She knew he was
sniffing his fingers, she could hear his indrawn breath when he did it.  On
impulse, she ran her index finger down the crack of her ass, and stabbed it
into her asshole slightly.  She brought it to her nose, and sniffed.  Ugh,
it was strong.  It smelled like shit to her.  Shit, and sweat, and just a
little bit of pussy.  Actually, she thought, it smelled sexy, not really
nasty.  Stop it, she told herself.  You are falling into his trap when you
do that.  After all you did for him tonight, don't start thinking like him,
too.

   She turned eagerly to the TV.  She pulled the chair over to the table,
and sat right in front of it.  She located the controls, on the side of it,
and turned it on.  It came right on.  Sweet.  She looked at the controls,
and realized that the channel changing buttons were covered with something
hard.  Something that looked like dried superglue or something.  Well,
shit. She watched it for a moment.  Oh, jeezus, it was public television.
This was almost worse than no television.  She tried to change the channel,
but it was impossible.  And she'd seen Mr.  Grody put the remote in his
pocket.  She almost cried.

   She finally forgot about the TV, and turned her attention to the basin
of soapy water he'd left.  She washed herself, slowly, loving the feel of
the water on her naked body.  It felt good to feel clean again, well,
relatively clean, it's not like she soaked in the tub or anything.  She
scrubbed her bottom, and her pussy, and under her arms.  Shit.  She'd
forgotten to do her face first.  She finally sighed, and washed her face
with bottom water.  What the hell.  She'd remember that next time.  She
wanted badly to do her hair, but there wasn't that much water by now.

   The next time he came down, with dinner or lunch or whatever, she was
very nice to him.  She remembered his hypnotic directive to be warm and
fuzzy or something, and she tried to act that out a little.  But mostly she
just wanted the remote.

   "Mr.  Grody...  you forget the remote, to the TV," she finally said,
after she accepted the meal through the slot.

   "I did not forget it.  You must earn it."

   "Mr.  Grody!  That's not fair.  I did earn it!  I let you..." Shit.  She
was going to say "paw all over my ass" but she remembered that she wasn't
supposed to remember that stuff.  She lamely finished, "hypnotize me,
remember?"

   "Yes, you did.  Okay, tell you what.  I'll give you the remote for... 
five hours.  But you must give it back when I ask, or I'll unplug the TV.
Okay?"

   "Deal," she said, and reached through the slot for the remote.  He had
to go back upstairs and get it, but she finally held it in her hands.  Hah
hah, she thought.  At last.

   She spent the rest of the day in mindless oblivion, watching the boob
tube.  Everything seemed so fresh and new and fascinating to her.  Amazing,
she thought, how a little time off makes everything new again.



   --==+==-

   Her day and night cycle was totally screwed.  Her phone had finally run
down, and she didn't even have that, now.  The only real delineation of her
days came when he fed her breakfast, she knew by that that it was morning,
or close.  Well, and the TV.  Sometimes she saw news channels that told the
time.  She had kind of stopped caring, actually.  She slept when she was
sleepy.  The only thing she really did was on his cycle was eat.  Oh, and
be hypnotized.

   The hypnotisms were instantly a daily thing, now that he realized what
he could do with her.  She was wondering by now if he was really actually
hypnotizing her, the way that she was letting him do stuff to her.  But she
was aware the whole time, she was just trying to lull him into a false
sense of security.  Surely not, she thought.  The routine was pretty much
the same, each day, sometimes twice a day.  He 'hypnotized' her, and pawed
around her ass, backing her up to the food slot.  He had tried to get
access to her pussy, but he finally had to settle for that through her
legs, from the rear.  He had stuck his finger into her pussy several times,
somewhat painfully, since she was still a virgin.  It was all she could do
to keep quiet and still when he did that.  She felt like she was getting
very good at the hypnotized act.  She let him do things that there is no
way she ever would have let anyone do, a month ago.  And she didn't bat an
eye.

   He was unbelievably happy at the turn things had taken.  The hypnotizing
thing had worked out better that he'd ever dreamed.  She was putty in his
hands.  He touched and rubbed and sniffed her to his heart's content.  He
got further and further into it.  He hoped at some point to get her out of
the cage, and maybe even fuck her.  That was his eventual goal.  Sexual
relations with a compliant female.  He'd never had that before, weirdly. 
He'd had to fight them every time.  He had high hopes for this one, the way
things were going.

   The next day, during the hypnotic session, he unzipped his pants and
drew his dick out.  Stormi was bent over, as she usually was, backed up to
the food slot, her ass fairly well framed by it.  Oh, she thought, looking
up at him through her legs, that is interesting....  she'd never seen an
adult cock before.  It gave her a moment's pause.  It was a while, even,
before she was outraged.  She just stared at his long hard cock, thinking,
wow, so that's what they look like.  Two round things were also hanging out
of his pants.  Those are his balls, she told herself.  His cock was rock
hard, weaving slightly as he moved around, bouncing and bobbing up and
down. It looked so silly she almost laughed, but then she thought, shit,
what if he tries to stick it in me, through the slot?  She knew that there
was no way he could reach her pussy that way, but she feared for her poor
little asshole.  She knew, though, all she'd have to do was step out of his
reach.  She didn't want to give up the hypnotism charade, though, she felt
like he was really believing that she was his slave.  After everything
she'd let him do so far, she wanted it to amount to something.

   He didn't threaten her asshole, at least.  He just stroked himself, and
played with his dick while he rubbed and sniffed her.  He finally pointed
his dick off to the side, and she heard him grunting as he ejaculated.  She
was trying to look uninterested, but out of the corner of her eye she say a
spray of stuff shoot from his dick, and fairly quickly she could smell the
smell of fresh sperm on the ground.  That interested her, also.  She'd
never smelled that before.  That's the stuff that makes babies, she told
herself.  That's his cum.

   He cleaned himself up, and stuffed his dick back in his pants.  He
released her from her "trance", and left.  The rest of the afternoon, when
she went to the front of the cage she could smell his semen on the floor.
It finally dried up.  She was surprised at how much of it there had been.
He must have been saving it up a long time, she thought.  Then again, she
had no idea how much usually came out when a guy...  shot his wad or
whatever.



   --==+==-

   Mr.  Grody had never taken the remote away, in spite of saying he would.
At least her days passed a little easier.  And now, thanks to the news
channels, she knew what time it was.  When she cared, at least.  And once
when she watched the local evening news she saw a mention of herself.  The
news man said that a local runaway, Stormi Sincere, whom the whole town had
been looking for was reported to have been seen two hundred miles away in
Chicago.  She just stood there with tears in her eyes.  They aren't looking
for me any more, she thought.  It's over.  I belong to him, now.  It's up
to me totally if I want out.

   The next day the hypnotizing routine was a little different.  He didn't
touch her, or pull his dick out, like he usually did.  He spent the whole
time telling her that she was going to be nice and quiet and well behaved,
when she came out of the trance.  He finally had her turn, and stick her
hands up to the food slot.  She could feel him placing the handcuffs on her
hands.

   He had her turn back, and then he released her from the trance.

   "Hey," she said, acting surprised, staring at the handcuffs.  "how'd you
do that?"

   He just laughed.

   "Stormi," he said, "I am taking you upstairs, to wash your hair in the
bathtub.  You must behave, or we will never do it again.  And, I will have
the taser ready at all times."

   "Okay," she said, her mind racing at the possibilities.  The
possibilities weren't that many, not with her hands being handcuffed in
front of her.  Shit.  Well, she thought, maybe I'll just play along this
time, and he'll be fooled, even more.

   He unlocked the two padlocks on the cage, and opened the door.  He stood
at the door, blocking it, and motioned her to come to him.  She did,
slowly, remembering that she supposed to be well behaved.  She really
wanted to fool him good, to make him think his hypnotizing worked
miraculous things with her.

   He showed her the taser in his hand, and then motioned her to the door.
She crouched, and preceded him, but of course the cellar door was shut. 
This time, he left the door open and the tank pushed back.  He led her
upstairs, up the inner staircase, and they came out in the kitchen.  He
pointed the way, and soon they were in the bathroom.  He shut the door. 
She had looked at all the windows, but all the windows had burglar bars on
them.  She thought if her hands weren't cuffed, she would take a running
leap out a window, busting out the glass, and run for it.  But, that
couldn't happen.  The bathroom had a small high window, but it was barred,
too.

   Once in the bathroom he instructed her to turn, and he uncuffed her. 
Her mind raced for what she could do, but nothing seemed to have a chance
of success.  Maybe she'd just settle for a bath.  She was already naked, so
she just went ahead and got in the high, old-fashioned tub.  She turned to
him, and was disgusted to see him photographing her with his phone.  She
realized he was taking a video.  She flipped him off, slow and seriously.

   "Mr.  Grody.  Don't be such a perv," she finally said, and turned on the
water.  She inspected his shampoo choices.  He did not have any of her
favorites.  She dunked her head, and began washing.

   Thirty minutes later, she was done.  She'd even shaved her legs with a
disposable razor he gave her.  She felt fresh and clean, and alive.  She
felt like she was ready to face him, now.  Ready to take him on.

   She was out of the tub, and dried off.  He was still filming her.  Damn,
he must have a major memory card in that damn thing, she thought.  She sat
on the edge of the tub, waiting for whatever was next.  She wasn't going to
rush him.

   "Mr.  Grody.  Do you have a fresh toothbrush?" she asked, and he pawed
through a drawer, his back turned.  She wished she knew karate or
something. He turned, and gave her a toothbrush, still in the package. 
Good.  She opened it, and brushed her teeth.

   "Can I take this back?" she asked, holding up one of several tubes of
toothpaste.  He nodded.  She put it on the counter, along with the brush.

   "Hands," he said, and she presented her hands to be cuffed, and then
picked up her brush and the toothpaste.  He led her back down the stairs,
and she preceded him through the secret door.  She went ahead and went
right in the cage.  No use making a fuss at this point.

   He locked her in, and stood and regarded her.

   "Thank you, Stormi," he said, "you were very good.  I will remember
this."

   She nodded, shooting mental fire at him.  God, she hoped all this
behaving well would be worth it at some point.



   --==+==-

   Later that evening, he "hypnotized" her again.  He was really hooked on
this shit, now.  He knew that hypnotism wasn't perfect, he knew that she
could come out of the trance early, or that her conscious mind could break
through at some things she might be asked to do.  But it was working so
well.  She was fooling him completely, actually.

   This time, he said, "Stormi.  Pull the chair to the food slot." She did,
and he told her to sit, which she also did.

   "Stormi.  Spread your legs wide, to the sides of the chair." She did,
thinking, perv, you old perv.

   "Stormi.  Touch yourself.  Play with yourself." Shit, she thought.  This
has almost gone too far.  Sure, she'd played with herself before.  Who
hasn't, by her age?  She'd even done it a few times since she'd been
imprisoned here, just for the brief pleasure it gave her.  She wasn't sure
if she wanted to do something so intimate in front of him.  But, this was
the path she'd chosen.  Maybe she could just make it difficult enough that
he would give up.

   She reached down, like a robot, and spread her pussy lips apart.  He
literally licked his lips, leaning down, and staring through the plexiglass
at her beautiful cunt, spread wide for his viewing pleasure.  She put her
finger right on top of her clit, and then just sat there, not moving.

   "Stormi.  Wiggle it.  Wiggle your finger." She wiggled her finger, once,
then stopped and just sat there.

   "Dammit," he said.  "Stormi, start wiggling your finger and don't stop."

   She started wiggling her finger.  She wiggled it so hard that it slid
off her clit, and traveled a few inches up her stomach.  She kept on
wiggling it, though.  She didn't look down or anything, she was staring off
in space to a point a few feet behind him.

   "Stormi.  Keep your finger on yourself." She didn't move her finger. 
You idiot, she thought, it is on myself.  It's on my stomach.

   "Stormi.  Put your finger back on your clitoris." She still didn't move.
Who the hell said "Clitoris" nowdays?

   "Stormi.  Put your finger on your clit." He was catching on too fast. 
She sighed, mentally, and put her finger on her clit.  It did kinda feel
good, she thought.  And it was kinda sexy doing it in front of somebody. 
Dammit, she thought, that somebody is a pervy old man who's keeping you
prisoner.  Do not get turned on for this fool.

   "Stormi.  Wiggle your finger around, keeping it on your clit." He
finally said, and she gave up, and did as he said.  It did feel good.  It
wasn't that different than doing it when she was alone.  He watched her
eagerly.  He wondered if she could have an orgasm, while hypnotized.  He
hoped to find out she could.

   This went on for quite a while.  Every now and then, just to keep from
getting bored, she pretended to lose focus, and let her finger slip or
something.  He would correct her every time.  She assumed he was waiting on
her to cum.  She started to get afraid she might, it felt pretty good
sometimes.  Just like when she did it on her own.

   She finally felt the familiar tightening of her leg muscles, and the
contractions in her stomach.  She knew she was close.  She felt bad, she
didn't want to give him this much, she knew it would please him, and turn
him on.  She didn't want to go that far.  But she didn't know what to do.
Like she'd thought earlier, this was the path she'd chosen.

   She finally just gave up, and came.  She had a pretty good cum, she
stuck her legs straight out, and clenched her muscles so hard she almost
cramped.  She gasped and moaned a little, and felt the familiar warmth run
down her arms and legs.  She had a pretty good cum, all in all, in spite of
having an audience.

   He was satisfied.  After it was all over, he released her from the
trance, and she acted puzzled at the feelings in her body.

   "What did you do to me?" she finally asked him, acting puzzled.

   "Nothing.  Just a quick little test," he said.  Test?  Test of what? 
she wondered.  He was crazy, she reminded herself, don't expect him to make
sense.

   He finally left.  She had no idea what time it was, she didn't even
bother turning on the TV to find out.  She was sleepy, and she felt relaxed
and warm.  She went to the cot, and lay down, and slept.



   --==+==-

   This became her routine for the next few weeks.  Every day, sometimes
twice a day, he appeared and hypnotized her.  Sometimes he played with her
butt, and sometimes he made her play with herself.  She finally got so
jaded than she'd just do it in a hurry, she'd cum for him, just to get it
over with.  She still loved to fuck with him whenever she could, though. 
That was one of her small pleasures.

   Another week passed.  He took her upstairs again, and let her bathe and
wash her hair.  Everything went pretty much the same was as before.  She
was trying to act friendly towards him, to make him think that his hypnotic
command about her feeling 'warm and fuzzy' towards him was working.

   Finally, she had what she considered a major triumph.  One night, while
hypnotized, he brought her up out of the basement, through the cellar, and
into his house proper.  She sat on an old worn out couch, and played with
her pussy while he filmed her with a real video camera.  When it was over
he took her back downstairs and released her.  She had a hard time holding
in her glee.  He was so fooled by her hypnotized act.  She had thought
about just suddenly running for the door, but she knew him well enough by
now to realize that he'd probably locked it from the inside as well as the
outside.  She felt like she was really getting somewhere, with him.  She
felt like, now, that the more he let her do stuff like this, the higher the
chances that he'd screw up and she could gain her freedom.

   Also, he had started allowing her to leave the cage to use the exercise
machine in the corner.  And she was not hypnotized when that happened. 
He'd tried it once, with her 'hypnotized', but she'd made such a mess of
it, on purpose, of course, that the next time he just gave up and let her
out.  He stood and watched her the whole time, of course, with his taser at
the ready, but she meekly cooperated, hoping to win his trust even more.

   A day or two later he hypnotized her, and told her to go lay on her cot.
She did, and she heard him unlocking the locks.  He entered the cage, and
stood before her, his long cock sticking straight out.  Oh shit, she
thought, is he going to fuck me now?  Is this how my cherry gets popped? 
She knew it hurt.  She didn't want to lose her virginity to this creep,
hurt or no hurt.  She just lay there, though, and stared at the ceiling,
pretending to be in a trance.  He just looked at her a long time, and then
he commanded her to spread her legs.  She did, and he nestled down between
them, and she actually enjoyed the next twenty minutes as he licked and
sucked her pussy.  She hated it, but she enjoyed it.  He wasn't a bad pussy
eater, for an old fart.  She knew he was loving the shit out it.

   The door to the cage was wide open.  She hadn't heard him scoot the
water tank back when he'd entered, and she knew she could be out of the
secret room in a flash.  But, she worried, when she got upstairs, then
what? If he had the doors locked from the inside, which she assumed, she'd
need a key to get out.  The windows on the lower floor had burglar bars. 
She didn't figure the upper floor windows did, but she didn't really want
to dive through a glass window and fall twelve feet to the ground.  She
didn't know what to do, so she did nothing.  Just gaining his trust, she
told herself, I'm just gaining his trust.

   He licked and slobbered around on her for a while longer, and then had
her turn over, so he could lick her asshole.  She actually got bored at
some point, and started wiggling around and making funny noises, noises
that she hoped did not sound like sexual pleasure noises.  She hoped he
thought she was coming out of her trance.  He finally finished up, for that
reason, or just because, and he left the cage, locking it back, and
releasing her from her so-called trance.

   She jumped up, and acted like she had just woke up.

   "What did you do to me?" she said, "My butt is all wet.  Was that
something you did?"

   "I have no idea," he glibly lied, and she thought, you bastard, you
don't even have the nerve to admit it.  Ass-licker.



   --==+==-

   The next day he hypnotized her, and unlocked the cage.  She had a hard
time just sitting there, staring off in space, but she did it.  He entered
the cage, and stood before her naked body.  He unzipped his pants, and drew
his hard cock out, and his balls.

   "Stormi," He said.  "Get down on your knees."

   Oh, holy shit, she thought.  Holy fucking shit.  She knew what happened
when a girl went to her knees in front of a guy.  She'd watched enough porn
on the internet to know that.  She wasn't sure at all if she wanted to do
that, to him.  Not to him, she cried to herself, don't make me.  Please.

   She slowly got down on her knees, wondering if this was the time to end
the charade.  But, she felt like she was getting so close, so close to
freedom.  If she could just keep it up.

   "Stormi," he said.  He came and stood right in front of her.  She'd been
staring off into space, but now, there was no space to stare off into.  His
dick was right in her face.  Shit, she thought.  Shit.

   "Stormi.  Stick out your tongue," he commanded.  She slowly complied. 
God, she thought, don't let it taste nasty.  Please.

   He rubbed his hard dick on her tongue.  She felt a slight wetness on her
tongue, from something that was leaking out the end of his dick.  It had a
definite taste, not offensive, but a taste.  She'd never tasted anything
like it before.

   "Stormi.  Lick me." He said, and she slowly, hesitantly, licked him. 
Once.

   "Stormi.  Keep licking me." She complied.  At least, she thought, at
least it doesn't really have a taste.  She felt his dick on her tongue,
more than tasted it.  It was no different to her than licking her wrist, or
something.  Well, it was a dick, it was a hell of a lot different than
licking her wrist, but it didn't taste any different.

   She licked, like a cat lapping up milk.  He tried several experimental
commands, to get her to lick around the cap of his dick, and stuff like
that, but he realized how hard it was to get exactly what you wanted, when
someone was so literal.  He didn't want to actually put his dick in her
mouth yet, he was afraid of getting bit.  But it was very tempting.

   "Stormi," he finally said.  "Put the very end in.  Suck on it."

   She froze.  The end of what?  she thought, in literal mode.  He finally
clarified it, the end of his penis.  She almost snickered.  What an
old-fashioned word.

   She slurped the cap of his cock into her mouth, and sucked.  It was kind
of fun, she thought, before catching herself.  The bastard, she thought. 
Making a sweet young thing like me suck on his weenie.  The absolute
bastard.

   He liked that, the sucking she did.  She was good at it, he thought. 
And she had lots of suction.  She was a regular little hoover.  He let her
do it for a long, long time.  He felt like, fairly quickly, that he could
cum if he let himself, and he weighed the pros and cons in his mind of
coming in her mouth.  Finally the question pretty much answered itself, and
he felt his prostate clench, and he knew he was just moments from it.  A
good cum.

   "Stormi," he said.  "Be prepared to swallow."

   Oh shit, she thought.  She knew what was going to happen next, in spite
of her sexual inexperience.  He was probably going to squirt his goo in her
mouth.  Oh, shit.  She felt his dick jerk, beneath her lips.  She stopped
sucking for a moment, then remembered she was supposed to be hypnotized,
and started again.  Suddenly semen sprayed from the end of his cock, and
right into her mouth.  Without thinking she pulled away, and the next
squirt went down her front, all over her tits.  The third squirt hit about
her waist, and dripped down into her pussy hair.  Ewwww, she thought. 
Jeezus.

   The stuff really tasted strange to her, not exactly unpleasant, but
strange.  She didn't want to swallow it, though.

   "Mr.  Grody!" she said loudly.  I'm out of the trance, she thought. 
"What happened?  What are you doing?  Why is your weenie out?  And what is
this stuff all over me!?"

   She hoped she ruined the pleasure of his cum for him.  He was stuffing
his dick back into his pants, looking almost like a naughty little boy. 
She wondered if this would be a good time to run out of the cage.  Probably
not.  She just sat back on her heels, and enjoyed his confusion.  He
finally left the cage, and shut and locked the door, and disappeared
upstairs.

   She got some toilet paper, and cleaned his sperm from her body.  Strange
stuff, she thought, remembering the taste of it.  Kinda nasty, but not
really horrible.  Well, she thought, I'll be ready now, if I ever have a
boyfriend.  If I ever get out of this mess.



   --==+==-

   Mr.  Grody didn't hypnotize her for the next few days.  She kind of
wished she hadn't left her trance that time, and spooked him.  She figured
she'd scared him, and he feared that it could happen again.  Well, she
thought, at least it saves me from having to suck his weenie every day. 
She knew he'd like it.  It was pretty obvious.  Anyway, she hoped that he
hadn't stopped.  He seemed like, for a while at least, that he was getting
pretty lax about leaving the cage door open.  She was slowly hatching a
plan, trying to think of all the possibilities, and the disadvantages.



   --==+==-

   A few days later, he did it again.  This time, though, while she was
hypnotized, he brought out four pairs of handcuffs.  Oh shit, she thought,
staring straight ahead.  She felt her heart race.  Oh shit.  He put one on
each hand, and one on each foot.  He made her lay on the cot, and he
snapped the handcuffs to the frame of the cot.  He had to work to get the
foot ones all correct, with her knees bent just right, the way he wanted
them, but finally he was prepared.  To her surprise, he then released her
from her trance.

   "What?" she didn't have to pretend to be a little scared, and pissed
off. "What are you doing?  How did you do that?"

   "That is a secret," he said.  "But I want you to be awake for this,
now."

   "For what?" she said, fearing the answer.

   "I'm going to make love to you," he said, Oh shit, she thought.  Now
you've done it.  Now, he thinks I should be awake?

   "Mr.  Grody," she almost cried.  She didn't have to pretend on that one.
"Please don't.  Please wait a while, until I can be out of this cage.  Then
I will, I promise."

   "Stormi.  I cannot wait any longer.  It is not humanly possible." She
wondered if he realized that sooner or later something would happen, and
either she'd get out, or he'd be forced to kill her like he'd said he
would. She realized that this was probably going to happen, like it or not.

   She lay back, and resigned herself.  Tears began leaking out of her
closed eyes.  He felt great sympathy for her.  He felt sorry for her.  But,
it had to happen.  It just had to happen.  He felt as powerless about it as
she now was.  He just had to do it.  He had to have her.  What was the
point of all this, if he did not?

   He crawled up on the creaky cot, in-between her legs.  He put his arms
down, on each side of her midsection.  His face was below her, about where
her breasts were.  She jumped as she felt his cock touch her pussy, to the
side a bit.  Center it up, she thought.  He reached down with one hand, and
got his cock situated.  She felt it pressing against the mouth of her cunt.
She felt him push harder and harder.

   She jumped again as his lips fastened around one of her nipples.  That
did feel kind of good, she thought, hating herself.  His dick pressed into
her, harder and harder.  Finally, with a giant stab of pain, it slid inside
her.  She burst into tears, from the pain, and from the knowledge of what
had just happened.  She was no longer a virgin.  This disgusting old man
had stolen her virginity.

   His dick just continued to slide into her.  He went in, and then out a
bit, and then it again.  Deeper and deeper.  She didn't know if it would
ever end.  The pain was much less, now.  The sensations were actually
quite...  pleasurable, she thought, hating to admit it to herself.  If it
was just anybody else, she thought.  Damn.  Anybody.

   He was finally all the way inside her.  She could feel his hips pressing
against hers.  He paused for a while, and then pulled out, and pushed in
again.  He did it again, and again.  It felt good, but she hated it.

   This went on for a long, long time.  He alternately squeezed her
breasts, sometimes painfully, and then he slid his hands beneath her and
squeezed her ass to him as he fucked her.  He even fingered her asshole,
and pushed his finger into it slightly.  She growled when he did that, and
he smiled slightly.  But at least he pulled his finger out.  He bent down
again, and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

   The thing she feared was coming true.  She was going to cum.  She didn't
want that, not at all.  She didn't want to give him the pleasure.  I'm
being raped, she thought.  I shouldn't cum, not for that.  Not for him.

   But, she did.  She gasped, and groaned loudly, and came.  Her calves
cramped, and her ankles felt like popping, she clenched them so tightly. 
She felt the warmth spread from her pussy, and goosebumps popped up on her
inner thighs.  She had a nice good cum, and she felt like her body had
betrayed her.  Something so bad shouldn't feel so good, she thought.

   He pumped her for a while longer, and then he finally came.  She looked
up at him as he scrunched his face up, the muscles in his neck standing
out. She could feel the contractions of his dick, inside her body.  She
knew he was pumping his sperm into her body.  Oh god, she thought, don't
let me get pregnant.  Don't make me bear this disgusting man's child.

   He finally finished, and lay limply on top of her.  She shoved him, as
well as she could, still being handcuffed.  He finally crawled off her, and
stood beside the cot.

   "Let me go," she said, meaning it.  He smiled down at her, and fumbled
for the handcuff key.

   "Thank you, Stormi," he said.  "Did you like it?  Didn't it make you
feel good?"

   She glared up and him, but she nodded.  A plan occurred to her, and she
began to put it in place.

   "Yes, it was nice," she said.  "But I wish you'd have waited until I was
ready.  It would have been better for both of us."

   He nodded.  "I'm sorry, Stormi.  I just couldn't wait."

   "Unlock me," she said.  And he bent over her, unlocking her feet first,
and then her arms.  She rubbed her wrists, wanting them to work perfectly
for what she was going to do next.

   He turned, as if he was going to leave the cage.  She quickly glanced
outside, to see the two padlocks laying on the floor, beside the door.  She
almost nodded to herself.

   "Mr.  Grody," she said, and he stopped.  She crooked her finger,
motioning him to return.

   "Yes, dear," he said.

   "Let me...  let me taste it," she said, motioning towards his dick. 
"Let me lick it...  clean..."

   A smile appeared on his face.  Of course he would.  She dropped to her
knees, and he stood in front of her.  She scooted slightly, forcing him to
turn a bit, but she wanted him in the back of the cage.  She took his
flaccid cock in her mouth, tasting both his sperm, and her own pussy juices
on his cock.  She sucked, thinking this is the last time, motherfucker.

   With her hand she reached up and unsnapped his pants.  If he even
noticed, it didn't bother him any.  With a gargantuan surge of strength,
she yanked his pants all the way to his ankles with both hands.  They slid
down easily.  She leaned back as fast as she could, knowing she couldn't
afford to let him grab her.  She punched him in the dick and balls as hard
as she could.  Her fist made a satisfying slapping sound as it contacted
his floppy cock.  He grunted, she hoped in pain.

   She stood, hard, as fast as she could, and put her shoulder right into
his belly.  He took a few tiny steps backwards, hampered by the pants
around his ankles, and then his arms windmilled as he crashed to the floor,
backwards.  She was out of the cage by then, and she had the door shut. 
She grabbed the first lock with fumbling finger, and just got it into the
hasp when his shoulder hit the door.  The door almost gave, it flexed quite
a bit, but it withstood the first impact.  He hit it again, and when he
backed off for number three she slammed the second lock home.  She locked
them both with a satisfying click.  She stared at his wild face, just a
foot away, behind the plexiglass.

   He screamed with feral rage.  He knew he was fucked.  He was locked in a
cage he'd created, he'd spent years making, and he knew that it was pretty
much inescapable.  He wished, well, a tiny rational part of his brain
wished he'd built some kind of secret escape method into the cage.  It was
too late for that.  He was fucked.

   "Stormi!" he panted.  "We had something.  You felt it.  We are meant to
be together.  We had something, dammit!"

   "We had shit," she said.  Now that she was in power, she wanted him to
suffer.  But, she also knew the longer she hung around the more dangerous
it was.  Something occurred to her now, and she wondered if he still
carried that gun with him.  For all she knew it was in his pocket.  He
could shoot her, and shoot his way out of the cage, if so.

   She turned to the door.  She had to get out, fast.

   "Goodbye, Mr.  Grody," she said as she left, "goodby forever, you stupid
sack of shit."

   She ducked out the hidden door, hearing him scream one last time.  He'd
done a good job on the hidden door, you could hardly tell it was there,
even when you knew.  She couldn't hear him, anymore, either.  She put her
shoulder into the water tank, and finally got it scooted over, and blocked
the door.  That should slow him, if he did shoot his way out.  She ran up
the stairs, and into the house.  She carefully locked the cellar door, and
turned to the kitchen.  She still hadn't heard any shots from below.  She
hoped that meant that he didn't have the gun on him.

   She immediately went to the front door, and tried it.  Locked, of
course. She turned the two deadbolts, and it opened.  She left it open
slightly.  It was her escape route, now.

   She explored his house, her heart pounding, listening for any sounds
from below.  She peeked in the kitchen half a dozen times, making sure the
door was still shut.  She had no idea what she'd have done if it'd been
open one of those times.  Run like hell, she guessed.

   Finally, in his bedroom, she found her clothes.  Well, her jeans.  She
slid them on, and went to his closet and picked out one of his shirts. 
Now, she was ready to re-join the world.  On his bed-stand, she saw the
pistol.  Hah, she thought.  Got complacent, did we.  Got fooled by a girl,
did we.  She thought idly for a moment about taking the gun downstairs and
finishing him off through the air holes...  but naw...  she wanted him to
suffer.  She wanted him to die of thirst or starve to death.  She wanted to
give him time to think about what he'd done to her.  About what would make
her hate him this much.  She finally just stuck the pistol in her
waistband. She opened the drawer, and pocketed a fat roll of bills she
found, after she spent a few minutes counting it.  Almost fifty grand. 
That's about what a month out of my life is worth, she thought.  She
explored the room a little bit, finding even more cash and jewelry and
Rolexes in drawers and cabinets.  This guy was a rich old fuck, she
thought, as she pocketed it all.  Emphasis on the was.  Now he's gonna be a
dead old fuck.

   Now, she thought, I'm ready to go home.  Maybe in a month or two I'll
tell them about the hidden door.  Maybe they'll be able to smell him, by
then, if they don't find him first.  She knew that thirst would get him
before hunger.  She didn't care, she just wanted him dead.  That would be
her revenge on him.  She'd tell them he'd imprisoned her in the attic or
something, and that he'd gotten scared and ran off.  Then, after she knew
he was dead, she'd tell them where he really was.  And when they found the
movies and pictures her story would really be known.  She felt pretty good,
all in all, in spite of the things that had been done to her.  Things had a
funny way of working out.  You just had to be ready when your chance came.
Sometimes you had to make your own luck, she thought.  It was time to go
home and see her mom and brother.



   --==+==-

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