Abducted By Hercules

1

To think of spending another Friday night alone in your apartment with just a bottle of red wine keeping you company is depressing. To think of spending the rest of your monotonous life just wishing you could be happy again is depressing. To think of eating canned food and ramen noodles every day for the next month is depressing. As I struggle to carry the weight of my groceries with my scrawny arms up the stairs, I think of how depressing my life has been for the past three years and then I think of how many times the word ‘depressing’ crossed my mind.

With a groan, I set my bags down and unlock the door to the place that doesn’t feel like home anymore. “Depressing”, I mumble and walk in. With only the soft rays of moonlight illuminating the small space, I struggle to walk past the discarded clothes on the floor and empty pizza boxes to get to the kitchen counter. When Papa was alive, this very apartment didn’t suffocate me. A small kitchen five steps away from the living room where the scratchy second hand couch sits in front of the television that hasn’t been working for years and two bedrooms with a bathroom in the middle that we both had to share was the type of place we could afford. But it was also the type of place that was easily filled with the love that we had for each other. It’s funny how so many things could change in just one day.

I hope that when I get back to India in two days , I’ll find the love I lost and I’ll feel at home.

I place all four bags filled with cheap essentials on the counter, deciding to arrange them all the next morning, I walk towards my bedroom to take a shower and wash away the Texas heat and exhaustion from my skin. I push open my door an inch before I feel Goosebumps raise every hair on my body and I freeze. There’s someone in my room, inside my house. And I hear his deep breathing from the other side of the door. f**k.

My hands start to tremble and my feet tumble backwards. If this is real and there is a stranger in my room, I need to have a weapon or better yet I need to call for help. But just as I’m about to turn and run through the front door, I hear heavy footsteps. Panic tears through my body as I hear him walk closer. I take a step back, my body not allowing me to do anything else as fear grips my throat and my inhale becomes an audible tremble that matches the steps of the intruder.

“Sweet Neha”, his deep voice fills the room and the door between us swings open. I let out a quiet gasp as the man takes a step towards me and into the light that spills through the windows. He’s beautiful. Even in the dim lights, I see his cold brown eyes reflecting with pleasure as it gazes at my body. The way he studies me so intensely, I feel my face heat up. Who is he? How does he know my name? How did he get in here? There are so many questions running through my mind but I can’t bring myself to ask any of them. My throat feels dry and under his steady stare, my body shivers with cold sweat. I feel myself sway and right before I fall into complete darkness, I hear him say, “I’ve been waiting a long time for you”.

I hear hushed voices and then heavy footsteps outside the door. My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and my mouth is filled with sand. I open my eyes and try to lift my head but then realize that someone has tied both my arms together to the headboard of the bed. My feet are tied as well and I’m completely naked. The last thing I remember was looking at the devil with my own two eyes and hearing him say my name like a prayer, and then I was stuck in eternal darkness.

Please let this be a nightmare

I close my eyes shut again and refuse to look around the room. I know I won’t be able to escape from the ropes around my body, binding me tight to the bed. I feel the satin silks of the bedspread underneath my naked skin and my eyes prick with tears. If anyone were to come here, they’ll see me laid out, helpless for them to take like I’m some kind of a f**k doll.

Before Papa and I left India for good, I remember a few moments from when I used to live in my grandfather’s mansion as a child. I specifically remember the time when my older cousin sister was raped by her teacher. When she walked past the threshold of our house after a few weeks in the hospital, her eyes met mine briefly and I saw the fear, pain, regret and mostly shame. All of which so clearly shone in her brown eyes that were constantly filled with tears. I didn’t understand what rape meant then, I only knew that she had been hurt and that hurt would never leave.

I think of her and her brown eyes that turned lifeless in a day, while lying exposed. I think of how I would feel after being raped. Maybe he would even kill me before I see the open sky again. Was this why he kidnapped me? To rape me or is he going to sell me as a s*x slave? What does he want with me? Papa and I had some money but not a lot. He can’t be holding me for ransom because I have no family now who would fight for me. The only people who cared about me at some point were my family back in India but I haven’t seen them in years and I foolishly didn’t tell them that I was coming back because I was too afraid of what they would have said.

 Just stay calm. You can get out of this, Neha. There's Always a solution to any problem.

The room is a dorm. It just had the bed I am on, in the corner with nothing else. The door was closed and probably locked. I heard voices outside that woke me up so I know I’m not alone in this place. But does he know I’m awake? Twisting my neck to look at where my hands were tied, I took in the thick ropes that scraped my wrists and then looked around again frantically, searching for anything that would help me but found nothing useful. There wasn’t a closet or even a bathroom. I was in a room with four walls.

I eyed the ropes around my ankles thinking if I could loosen them with my feet. But before I had a chance to think about it any further, the door opened.

The devil himself walked in wearing a crisp black suit and a gun on his hip. He had a sharp jaw that can be seen clearer in the light and those same chocolate brown unforgiving eyes. One look at him told me everything I need to know. He was ice and cold and relentless with not one good deed in his dead soul. He stared at me with a blank expression; his thoughts weren’t to be seen in either his face or body.

“Untie me right now before I punch your face”. I didn’t know self-defence but right now I wish I did. I wouldn’t mind breaking his perfect nose and watching him bleed. His lips curled cruelly and for the second time in twenty four hours, I watched as he eyed my stripped figure slowly, taking all the time in the world while studying every inch of my bare skin.

“I knew you were a feisty one”, he said roughly and walked to me. I pulled on the ropes and struggled to untie them by myself until he towered over the foot of the bed and watched. My body reacted automatically with fright and I stopped. I lay still while not breaking eye contact with him. My chest rising and falling in deep breaths and my n*****s were tight from the cold of being unclothed. The devil placed his palms on either side of my hips, with one knee between my open thighs; he leaned in until his face was right above mine. I felt his warm breath on my face and his full lips part. His light hair fell softly on his forehead.

He leans his head close, and I close my eyes when the scruff on his jaw scratches my cheek, when he lowers himself more and I feel my n*****s graze his shirt softly. His lips lightly touch the side of my neck while he speaks.

“I can feel your body shivering with want, sweet Neha. Do you want me?”

“All I want is to cut your d**k off and make you eat it, you sick bastard”, I spit back and turn my head away from his as I let out a violent scream and fight. With my arms and legs restrained, I could only make forceful efforts to move myself away from his hard body and if I’m lucky, hurt him in the process. I fight like this is the fight of my life because it is. I fear this is the part of my story when I’ll be raped and I’ll fight until I can’t no more even though I know I'm no match for him. He’s too strong, too big and probably is well trained too. I let out another loud scream.

“Untie me and let me go!” I twist my body again and feel my shoulder knock his jaw, hard. I smile but my victory is short lived. His hand closes tightly around my neck as he chokes me and I feel the material of his pant covered knee press hard against the inside of my thigh. I shiver at his touch and buck beneath him, a chocked sound escaping my lips, my eyes pleading now. The devil watches me carefully and then sneers.

“Scream again, little girl and I’ll shove my c**k right down this pretty throat until you can’t even speak”

I feel wetness slide down my face and my chest begins to hurt but I manage to say “f**k you” as a reply.

“Oh you will, soon”, his thumb digs into the pulsing vein in my throat. “You belong to me now. Your f*****g body, soul and mind is under my control and the more you fight it, the more you’ll be punished. Understood?” He slaps me hard across the face when I don’t answer.

“Understood?”

“Yes”, I whisper and feel him let go of me. I take a deep breath into my burning lungs.

“Good girl”, he says and licks the part of my neck that his fingers bruised. When he reaches to untie the ropes around my wrists, I don’t let my surprise show, I still needed to be strong even whilst obeying him and acting weak. Until I have a solid plan I have to pretend to be the good little slut he wants me to be. My father didn’t raise a woman who cowers away from men and eventually; the devil will come to know that I'm not someone he can control.

I watch him as the muscles on his arms move while untying me. His face seems to be always expressionless and cold. I wonder if I would even be able to feel heart beat against his hard chest. When he moves to work on the restraints on my feet, I sit up and cover my chest with my aching arms. The inside of my wrists are bloody and scraped from when I fought against the bindings but I'm learning to hide what I feel just like he is so I don’t let the pain show, nor do I rub the tender spots to ease the sting.

“Why am I here?” I ask but the devil doesn’t look up to answer me.

“Who are you? How do you know my name? What are you going to do to me?”

His hands tightened on my freed ankles and with a sudden jerk, he twisted me and I fell flat onto the bed. A strangled cry fell out my lips and bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from cursing. I felt him climb on top of me from behind and then his hands stroking my bare ass. Without any warning, he spanked me hard five times and I felt the painful bite that made my face turn red. He spanked me like a little child because I asked him questions? Was this what he meant by punishment?

With one hand pressing my face hard against the silk sheets and the other hand on my ass, his knee forcefully pushed apart my thighs and once again, I lay on my stomach, my body completely exposed to him. My hands were stuck between my body and the bed and when I tried to wiggle them free, he spanked me again but much harder this time.

“No, no please stop. Please stop. It hurts”, I beg as he continues to slap me.

“This is your first punishment, slut. Don’t talk unless I ask you to or if you want your golden ass to turn red from my hand”. He hits me hard again, holding me still when I fight to get away, “you will do exactly as you're told, sweet Neha”. He strikes again and it’s too fast, I don’t have time to catch my breath or process as pain spreads through my ass and thighs.

 When finally he stops, I press my face deeper into the mattress and sob. I cry because I feel like my bottom is on fire. I cry because I know he’s capable of hurting me more than he just did. I cry because even though I know it’s absolutely wrong and disgusting, my body liked his hands on me. I can feel the wetness trickling out of my p***y and sticking onto the inside of my legs.

He kneels at my back; he’s close enough for me to feel his hardness. He’s aroused too. Spanking me aroused both of us and that single thought makes me nauseous.

“You don’t deserve to know my name”, he murmurs. “You’re no one; you’re nothing to me but just a warm body I can f**k so call me sir”.

I start to protest and say that there’s no way in hell I’ll ever call him sir, but as if he knows I'm about to argue, his big palms harshly rub my punished ass and the only sound that spills out of my mouth is a soft moan. At this point, I'm mad at myself more than I'm mad at the devil. I want to beg him to touch my throbbing p***y and f**k me hard. But I also want to push him away from me and scream at him so that he knows I'm still strong and would never bow down to him. Conflicted thoughts cloud my mind and my eyes start to tear up again. Here I am, pinned beneath a man who’s no less than a monster and I'm soaked for him. Am I truly brave as I think I am? Am I as strong as Papa thought I was? What would Papa say if he knew I wanted to give up so quickly?

I feel his long, thick fingers run through my wet folds and I snap out of my thoughts. He sucks in a quick breath and pushes two fingers inside me. I whimper in pain and pleasure.

“You’re such a little slut. Do you feel how wet you are for me?”

I close my eyes and bite my lip. I don’t want this. I don’t want him now, in this way. I open my mouth to demand him to stop, but my thought goes unfinished as I feel him torture me slowly, grinding his hard c**k against my ass as his fingers thrust into my p***y. I try to stay quiet but heavy breathing and his dirty, degrading words fill the air around us

He yanks his fingers away from my cunt and brings it to my lips. “Taste your want for me. Tell me how much you hate it”, he forces his wet fingers into my mouth. “Suck my fingers, sweet Neha and tomorrow if you’re lucky I’ll let you suck my c**k”.

“f**k you”, I hiss and turn away. Darkness overtakes his features as he looks down at me and my clit throbs with want. Before he could do and say anything, a phone starts to ring and he pulls one out of his back pocket, quickly scanning what’s on the screen, he stands up and I move to lie on my back. My arms feel like lump painful noodles, I can barely move them.

“Spread your legs, Neha”, he says and waits until I do. Holding his ringing phone with one hand, he looks down at my p***y and then sharply brings down his free hand and slaps me hard right against my clit. I gasp and close my legs, moving back against the headboard and pulling my knees to my chest. He eyes the phone screen one more time before bringing it to his ear. Without another look at me, the devil walks out and locks the door behind him, leaving me a panting mess on the bed with sore spots all over my body and hatred in my veins. Despite trying to keep my eyes open to form a plan to escape, I feel them grow heavy and with guilt, exhaustion starts to weigh down on me.

What on earth am I going to do with the devil?

And what on earth is he planning to do with me?