(F/A) Sure i was too old to be Trick or Treating but i still did it, although right now i wish i didn’t. I knocked on the wrong door, the man behind it grabbed me before I could react and covered my mouth with a dirty rag. I woke up only a few minutes nudes
(F4A) The heavy iron cuffs bit into my wrists, linked by a thick chain that felt like a lead weight dragging me down. My ankles were similarly bound, the cold metal a constant reminder of my helplessness. Twenty-six years old, and here I was, kneeling on
(F/A) My photography teacher, who I must admit I had a huge crush on, approached me for help in exchange for extra credits. He needed help with a project and wanted me as the model for the shoot. I agreed not realising what I was getting myself into.
(F4A) It was just… there. A big, plain brown box sitting on my doorstep when I got home from my part-time job. No return address, just my name and address printed clearly. Weird, but hey, maybe Mom ordered something? Still, curiosity gnawed at me. I’
(F4A) I lie here, the soft cushion beneath me a stark contrast to the harsh reality of my predicament. My wrists, bound tightly behind my back, ache from the constant pressure of the rope. The gag in my mouth, woven and slightly rough, presses against my
(F4A) I look in the mirror and see a reflection that feels both familiar and foreign. My hair, once vibrant and full of life, cascades down my shoulders in soft waves. I remember the days when I was a beacon of energy, laughter often spilling from my lip
(F4A) The lights of the convention center glimmered around me, casting an almost magical glow. I stood there, bound to a sturdy pillar, the rough texture of the rope biting gently into my pale skin. My outfit—a seductive combination of leather lingerie
(F/A) I had signed up to a companies that kidnaps you, I thought it would be fun. I could experience the thrills of being kidnapped without any of the danger. So when a group of men grabbed me, dragged me to a van and tied me up I enjoyed it. Unfortunate
(F44) I remember sitting in Professor Sterling's office, feeling so incredibly important. He was this brilliant psychologist, and I, fresh out of high school, was just a freshman trying to find my place. He’d singled me out after class one day, said I
