The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Liu snapped his fingers and another man entered the room, eyes flicking from Liu to Laurel. He hovered between Liu and the bed, his expression a mix of nerves and eagerness. Something worried at Laurel. She knew that this man was going to remove her dress, see her as close to naked as she cared to think about. Somehow that didn’t seem right, the thought tugging at her mind. She’d agreed to it, had been felt up by a few men now. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d lost her dress after being felt up. The feel of each man’s hands upon her hadn’t been so bad, good even, so this might feel even better. There was something wrong with the idea but she couldn’t decide what it was, so she may as well do what Liu asked. Cooperate to survive, she reminded herself. Laurel smiled at the man, fighting off the urge to frown, as she took his money and he joined her on the bed.

The man looked to be in his late 30’s, a little on the flabby side. His hands were rough and he needed a shave, but the human contact soothed away some of Laurel’s cares. After only a couple of kisses he was reaching around for the zipper of her dress. His hands scrabbled at it for a moment before succeeding in undoing the zipper, but Laurel realised that he wasn’t going to be able to get the dress off by himself. And anyway, she was sitting down, and at best the top half would fall to her hips.

Gently pushing the man’s hands away, telling him to wait, Laurel rose from the bed, reached her right hand over to her other shoulder to slip the sleeve down her arm. Then she froze. She knew that she’d agreed to this, but Laurel now realised that saying that you’d take your dress off and actually being naked in front of your captors were two very different things. She was aware of her body, her arms, her legs, her hair brushing over her shoulders. More than that she could feel her stomach, tightening now, worry and fear constricting the muscles. She could feel where the waist band of her knickers, elastic tight, pressed into her skin, full the pull of her bra. If she let this happen then those would be the only garments she wore, the only clothing protecting what was left of her modesty from these men. She was painfully conscious of what they’d see, of what they’d be able to imagine.

Laurel didn’t want to do this, she knew it wasn’t right, even if the reasons were frustratingly out of reach. The alternative loomed in her imagination, Liu’s men grabbing her, ripping her dress off her. It would be so easy for them, unzipped as it was, one sleeve already half off her arm. She didn’t know what to do. She could feel her mouth hanging open, just slightly, eyes wide.

There was a sound behind her, at first it hardly registered then she realised that the man was rising from the bed. His hands were on her, pulling at the dress, pulling it off her arms. She could feel it slipping down her body, her bra coming into view. She knew she should do something, stop him, but she couldn’t, her volition momentarily gone, and then it was too late, the fabric of her dress slipping past her bra, the white garment, edged in delicate lace, exposed to every man in the room. The man’s hands were around her, pawing at her breasts as the top of her dress came to rest on her hips, scrunched around them. She knew had no choice but to do as Liu had asked, so she gave a little shimmy and the dress was falling to the ground around her ankles. It was done and she couldn’t remember why she’d hesitated.

The man spent a few minutes running his hands over Laurel, then pulled her back to the bed. There was no skill or gentleness to his attentions, but Laurel could sense his eagerness, in his twitchy, hurried, motions. It was no surprise to her that he paid particular attention to her breasts, still bra-encased. Laurel felt safe like that. It wasn’t like he was actually touching her breasts, that would be going too far. And while his hands may have travelled up her legs a bit further than she would have liked, he didn’t get that near her knickers. So it was all right, and she didn’t think that she was doing anything particularly wrong, or anything she’d regret. Laurel actually felt a little sad when the man stopped and got off the bed. She said “Thank you” and reached for her dress.

“Stop,” Liu called sharply. Laurel looked up, no other movement, as still as a rabbit after hearing a wolf’s howl. She wasn’t sure whether Liu had meant her or the man who’d just been pawing her. Laurel realised that Liu was looking at her, so his target was obvious. Fear crawled through her mind as her last visitor, also understanding the subject of Liu’s attention, took his chance and half-ran out of the room, faintly ridiculous with his flab bouncing under his shirt. Laurel cringed wondering what Liu wanted now, his expression giving her no clue.

“Look in the wardrobe,” Liu said.

Laurel hesitated, frozen on the bed, hands supporting her, aware of every thread, every texture, of the bed clothes, her mind seeking something unthreatening to focus on, but then her imagination filled in what would happen if she refused. Liu would tell her that his guards could drag her over there if he wanted. She saw herself, in her underwear, kicking and screaming, helpless, or simply a limp figure, dangling between the two men like a rag doll. Retaining some freedom of movement seemed the best idea.

Glancing nervously between the men and the wardrobe Laurel carefully eased herself off the bed and crept towards the wardrobe. She wasn’t comfortable parading around in her underwear in front of her three captors, so she tried to keep her back to them as much as possible, one arm held across her breasts. Yes, they’d just seen a man touch her there, give her more pleasure than she wanted to admit, but she guessed from his look that he was under some compulsion from her captors as well, so that was different. Being half-naked in front of these men brought a mixture of fear and embarrassment that left Laurel feeling as if every choice was the wrong one.

The wardrobe was white, like all the other furniture in the room. Laurel looked at Liu over her shoulder, questioningly. Her chief captor simply pointed at the wardrobe. The door made no noise as Laurel opened it, the movement smooth and even. Inside Laurel found all the dresses and shoes that she had bought today. If it was still today. The light in the window was strong and it had been late when she was taken, so it probably wasn’t the same day. Anyway, they were all there. These are the strangest kidnappers, Laurel thought.

“Pick one,” Liu said.

Laurel had bought a few dresses on her expedition. They were for going out, so were all shorter, more revealing, than the one lying behind her on the floor. She’d have preferred to put it back on. Laurel glanced back at Liu, but his expression made it clear that her options were limited. Lips suddenly dry Laurel knew that she had to choose. She reached for the black one.

“Shoes as well,” Liu said. He was right, Laurel conceded. The shoes she had on didn’t suit the black dress, although why that mattered to her now she couldn’t say. One of the two pairs she’d bought did match, though she wondered why Liu would care about whether her outfit was co-ordinated. Hands shaking, she slipped off her shoes and put on her new ones, the heels noticeably higher than those she had discarded.

Even though the dress revealed far more of her body than the one on the floor, Laurel felt better with it on, though not much. She turned to face Liu, fearing what would happen next.

He was pointing at the dress on the floor. “Put it away. Neatness is important.” Laurel could see the disdain in his features, for once something other than unreadable. She wondered, confused, why this was what could break Liu’s calm. Laurel had no idea why her kidnappers would care whether the room they held her in was neat or not. It was far from the worst thing Liu had asked of her, so Laurel hung up the dress she’d been wearing and closed the wardrobe. If that’s what he wants, may as well be neat, she thought.

“Something is wrong,” said Liu and Laurel froze. His tone told the young woman nothing, he’d probably use the same intonation to comment on a speck of dust on his shoes and the hole in the side of the Titanic. But anything that upset her captors could mean danger for her. A wild thought ran through her head, that this had all been some sort of game, to humiliate her, and now they were going to kill her, leave her body in clothes she hadn’t been wearing when she was taken, just to deepen the anguish her family felt. Images of her corpse rushed around her mind as breath came in erratic, shallow, gasps.

The men made no moves towards Laurel and after a few minutes her thoughts and her breathing calmed, her mood turning to resentment. Well of course something’s wrong, Laurel thought, you’ve been watching me be felt up by I can’t remember how many strangers and you’ve seen me in my underwear. She felt displayed, abused. But somehow that didn’t seem to worry her that much, at least not as much as it should, and she didn’t think it was what Liu was referring to.

Laurel looked at Liu, frowning.

“Look in the mirror,” he said, indicating a full length mirror that occupied one door of the wardrobe. The answer was obvious. Her little black dress was an off-the-shoulder number, but her bra wasn’t, the white straps in plain sight as they ran over her shoulders. She’d have to change the dress.

“Change your underwear,” Liu said.

Laurel stared at him, open mouthed. Yes, she had bought a strapless bra to go with the dress and if her new dresses and shoes were here she assumed her purchases were as well, but she wasn’t changing in front of Liu and his guards. That was going too far. She was frozen, she didn’t want to be naked, not here, she didn’t want to be here at all. Anywhere else would be better, desperately she wished that this was a dream, a nightmare, and that she’d wake up. After a few moments Laurel admitted miserably that this was all too real.

Liu smiled at her. “Come now Laurel, you said you’d cooperate. Turn around. We won’t see much that we haven’t seen already.”

That might be true, Laurel realised, but it hardly mattered to her. Even her underwear was at least some clothing. Something to hold onto. These men hadn’t seen her naked, not yet. Desperately Laurel looked around the room. She knew it was hopeless, but maybe by some miracle there’d be a way out, something to save her. All she saw was the white walls, the white furniture. They offered her nothing, as implacable and unreadable as Liu’s expression. Laurel knew it was only her tortured imagination, but she could feel the walls closing in on her. This room was all her world, at least for now, and she was helpless enough in it as it was. These men held her here, could do anything they wanted to her. She could feel the hopelessness of her situation, taste it, understood it all too well. Without any clothes at all she’d be naked, humiliated, completely at their mercy.

Laurel could feel tears running down her cheeks. She didn’t know what choice she had. She could refuse, force Liu to carry out his threats. She didn’t know which was worse, which would be more degrading. Take a stand, try to retain some pride, but have Liu’s men strip her naked. Or do it herself, try limit what they could see, but know that she was in some way complicit in her own degradation. Laurel wanted to scream, to rage, but nothing would come. She clenched her fists, felt a foot stamp on the floor. Her gestures did nothing to change her situation. Either way she was going to be naked. She may as well make the best of it that she could.

If she pushed the point, it would be easy enough for Liu’s guards to hold her down and change her clothes. Then they’d get to see a lot more than if she did it herself. Laurel didn’t like it, but doing as Liu asked did appear to be her best option. She wasn’t sure she could do it. It was easy enough to rationalise, tell herself it was better to do as Liu asked rather than have it done to her. But her acquiescence, her cooperation, stuck in her throat. Part of her kept up the thought that she should refuse, make Liu carry through on his threat, retain some pride rather than strip naked in front of these men. But her imagination kept betraying her, showed her an image of herself screaming as the men ripped away her dress, her underwear. It was too much, too frightening, if there was a time to refuse, if Liu would push her too far, it hadn’t come yet.

With a sense of resignation Laurel turned to the vanity table, white like all the other furniture in the room, decorative, legs ornately carved, as were the frames of its three mirrors. In its drawers she found all the lingerie that she had bought. Suddenly awkward, she doffed her dress, her movements jerky and unco-ordinated. Laurel looked up for a moment, eyes unfocussed, trying to imagine the sky outside, remember what freedom meant. Then she reached behind herself, hands trembling, for her bra’s clasp. Eyes moistening, she carefully removed the garment. After that she kept her arms in tight, trying to cover as much as she could, even though her back was to the men. She huddled in on herself as she slipped out of her knickers. Laurel kept her movements small, careful, trying to limit the view of Liu and his men, keeping her back to them. She could feel a flush of embarrassment, the warmth prickling her entire body, for all the moments she was naked. It was with relief that she donned her new underwear and put the black dress back on.

With the next few men that came to room her experience was much the same. Some were a little less awkward in taking her dress off her, but her embarrassment was a constant. Yet despite their careless, awkward, groping and fondling, the humiliation she felt being touched that way in front of Liu and his men, Laurel couldn’t deny that she was enjoying the men’s attentions, pleasure flowing in waves from where they touched her. She took the money they offered, her handbag starting to show a slight bulge, and said “thank you” to them as they left, Liu making her change her dress and underwear and shoes after each one. Each time, little by little, the shame and humiliation she felt receded. After a while it really didn’t bother Laurel that Liu and his men must be getting quite familiar with her arse. Though she still did her best to make sure that her back was all they could see.

Laurel was getting hungry, and Liu allowed her some more food and water, the meal again served on the porcelain antiques. That a kidnap victim was treated this way was something Laurel still couldn’t understand. The water had the same slightly earthy taste and she surprised herself by draining the pitcher for a second time. She had drunk quite a lot by now and she needed to relieve herself. Laurel thought this might get her out of the room, a chance to see what lay outside, something to help in any escape plans, but her hope soon turned to dust. Liu spoke to one of his men, again in Chinese, and a door she hadn’t noticed before on the left hand side of the room, cunningly decorated to look like it was part of the wall, was unlocked. It led to a small bathroom complete with toilet and shower, the tiles gleaming white, the fittings white and silver. It was clean, but antiseptic and anonymous, like the bathroom of a hotel room, nothing personalised, nothing that spoke of comfort or familiarity. At least she had a few moments of privacy, but the bathroom had no outside windows and nothing that gave her any inspiration for an escape plan. Despondent, Laurel returned to the bedroom.

“I would suggest,” Liu said, his tone making it clear that it was far more than a mere suggestion, “that the men find it difficult to remove your dress once you are on the bed. It would be easier if you removed it yourself after taking their money.”

Laurel stared at him, wide-eyed. It was too much, she couldn’t do that. It would be as if she was initiating what was going on between her and the men. Emotions tumbled through her, shame, embarrassment. She didn’t understand why she was doing what Liu wanted. Yes, she admitted to herself, she hadn’t stopped the men, had helped them disrobe her. But this wasn’t the same. And even if she had enjoyed their attentions, she was in a terrible situation, no-one could blame her for taking what comfort, what pleasure, she could. But if she was to take off her dress before they even laid a hand on her, then it was too much like she would be sharing in the responsibility of what happened to her. Laurel knew that she wasn’t to blame, that it was her kidnapper’s fault, but that knowledge didn’t stop the feelings of guilt rising.

Liu hadn’t said a word as Laurel’s eyes remained on him. The silent threat hung in the air. Do what he asked or have his men do it to her. Her brain raced, thoughts muddled in confusion. Laurel knew nothing of this was her responsibility, but, as her mind thrust up images of her taking off her dress in front of these men, she couldn’t help but feel that it would make her complicit, an active participant in her own humiliation.

It came down to a choice, between her hands or theirs. Laurel told herself that none of the blame was hers, that it was better if she did it. Still unspeaking, she simply nodded at Liu.

Laurel couldn’t stop two silent tears escaping her eyes as she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor after she’d taken the money from the next man. If he noticed the slippery tracks on her cheeks the man gave no sign. Carefully Laurel stepped out of the garment, then joined him on the bed. Confusion and shame warred with the pleasant feelings spreading from where the man’s hands touched her, ripples and rivulets of pleasure flowing through her. She could feel them washing the guilt away. It wasn’t so bad, she thought, she could live with this. And, as man followed after man, taking the money from each one before stripping down to her underwear in front of them, it became easier and easier until she couldn’t remember why she’d ever thought it would be a problem. In the end it was simple, as the men’s touch sent delicious shivers running though her. She could cope, she thought to herself, as she made ready for the next man.

“Now,” said Liu, once Laurel was back on the bed, waiting, “if it makes no difference whether a man’s hand feels you through a dress or not, it should make no different whether he feels you through a bra or not.” It took Laurel a moment to process what he meant. That, that couldn’t be right, she could feel her mouth hanging open, head shaking in denial. He couldn’t want her to let a man take her bra off. Laurel knew what happened when men took her bra off. They’d touch and kiss and fondle her breasts. Her naked breasts. That was wrong. She shouldn’t let that happen. Up until now Liu hadn’t asked her to do anything that was so bad, and some of it had felt rather nice, pleasurable even. Underwear, she tried to persuade herself, didn’t show much more than a bikini. But now he wanted more, she couldn’t do what he asked. She’d be naked, helpless, in front of them.

Fear rose up, paralysing her, mind emptying of everything but terror and disbelief. In the space left by her thoughts a white void rose, followed by other thoughts creeping in, notions half formed, half whispered. Liu had been right about the dress. It hadn’t made any difference whether men felt her up with it on or off. She didn’t mind that, especially with what he was asking her now. Whether there was cloth between her skin and their hands the men were still touching her. Her bra was just cloth, so it wouldn’t make any difference whether that was between her skin and their hands or not. So, Laurel supposed, Liu was probably right about this as well. She felt herself frowning, a stray thought trying to convince her that giving strange men free access to her naked breasts wasn’t right, that there was some reason that she should refuse, that she should try to keep some clothes on. But she couldn’t think of any reason why she should object, the white void shining where any reasons could possible lie. In their place were the memories of times her boyfriends had caressed her breasts, and the warm, wonderful pleasure she’d felt.

Cooperate and survive Laurel told herself. But this was the limit. She wasn’t going any further than this. Any more than that would be, well, indecent, and she wasn’t that kind of girl. But what Liu was asking now wasn’t that much more than she’d done already and the idea seemed kind of hot.

So after Laurel took the next man’s money and he joined her on the bed, her black dress discarded on the floor, it wasn’t long before she had nothing on but her knickers. She’d heard her breath catch as he undid the clasp on her bra, but her hesitation lasted only a moment, nothing she could do, the strapless bra easily removed. Her reticence passed almost as soon she realised her breasts were exposed, that didn’t seem to be anything to worry about anymore.

Actually, she thought, it was kind of nice, the sensations the man’s hand created skittering through her body in white, pleasurable, sparks. Laurel found herself enjoying the attention. The man groped and fondled her breasts before sucking on each nipple. Nipples that were, to Laurel’s surprise, soon erect. She could feel herself getting a little aroused. No surprise there though, she thought, a man was playing with her breasts. Getting aroused was only natural. Something told her that given the situation she as in, kidnapped, she shouldn’t find anything arousing and that she should have protested more, called Liu’s bluff, but those thoughts didn’t make much sense to her, so she quickly dismissed them.

Her breasts were rewarding Laurel with warm tingles from the man’s attention, her mind basking in the waves of pleasure that ran from them to lower in her body as the man used one hand to stroke the silky skin of her inner thighs, his teeth grazing one nipple. She could sense a dampness at her core as the pleasure rolled through her before rising to her brain. It was with more than a little sincerity that Laurel gave the man her thanks as he left. It was the same with the next few men. They’d give her the money, she’d put it in her handbag, they’d kiss, cuddle, rid her of most of her garments and she’d enjoy the attention they gave to her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. She liked what they were doing, it was better than that, she was starting to look forward to it, even, she admitted, was getting more than a bit aroused by it. She’d stopped paying attention to the men themselves, all she remembered was how they made her feel.

“Very good,” Liu said, as Laurel slipped into another one of her dresses after the last man, “but I don’t think you have been very fair to these men.”

Laurel frowned, rounding on him, anger finally overriding her fear. “Fair? Fair? You kidnap me and have I don’t know how many men feel me up? What’s fair about that?”

Liu smiled, that same smile utterly lacking in warmth. Laurel fell silent. “Laurel, I would say that you have been enjoying it. I have watched the look on your face. You have been, true?”

Laurel swallowed, she couldn’t deny that she had been enjoying it. She wondered if any of the men were being coerced, as she was. Certainly some of them looked more than a little nervous. She felt a bit selfish.

“So, when a man enjoys playing with a woman’s breasts, he gets excited, eager, he needs some relief. I think you should oblige.”

Laurel shook her head, she could feel the blood draining out of her face. A bit of kissing and cuddling, even a bit of breast play. That had been nice, helped take her mind off her situation, the truth was she’d even enjoyed it, just a bit, she admitted to herself. But what Liu wanted of her now was obscene. She wasn’t going to have sex with these men.

Laurel backed hurriedly to the bed, almost fell on it as her legs encountered its edge, then sat there, silent, shaking her head, fear raking icy claws through her mind. She was regretting her outburst, feared it may tip Liu from politeness into violence. She knew that she had to cooperate to survive, that if she made these men too angry they could kill her, would kill her, without any remorse. But she wondered if there were something worse. Or maybe they intended to kill her anyway, and this was all simply more humiliation to pour on her and her family. Liu had mentioned something about an object lesson. A girl found dead after being forced into sexual acts certainly qualified. Laurel retreated further back, to the top corner of the bed, tried to wrap the bedclothes around herself, searching for any comfort she could find. Her gaze flicked wildly from Liu to his guards and the back again, wondering when the end would come.

“No,” Laurel said, haltingly, not sure whether she was refusing Liu or trying to deny the feeling of death hovering around her.

Her captor’s face was impassive, “What are you saying no to Laurel?”

“I, I won’t, please, don’t kill me, I don’t want to die,” tears fell down Laurel’s face and she realised how close she was to begging, desperate fear eating at any remaining pride.

Liu shook his head, a look of disappointment on his face. “I am a man of my word Laurel. Remember what I said, cooperate and survive. Now, I ask again, what are you refusing?’

“I, no, no sex, I won’t have sex, you can make me but I’m not going to. No, please, no” Laurel knew she was blubbering, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself.

“I did not say you had to have sex with these men,” Liu politely corrected her. From his tone he may have been gently admonishing her about adding milk to his tea, not something as intimate as the images playing in Laurel’s mind.

Laurel looked at him, relief, disbelief, confusion, all mixing in her mind. Liu didn’t want her to have sex with the men. She wasn’t sure what he wanted. Fear rose again as she realised what he might mean.

“I won’t, won’t screw them. I won’t and, and I won’t, I won’t not that,’ Laurel could feel her eyes wide, head shaking, feet scrabbling across the bed clothes.

“What isn’t you won’t do, Laurel? Please be specific.”

“You, you want me to suck, umm, blow,” The images played before Laurel’s mind but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate, the descriptions dying half-formed, fear constricting her. “I won’t, I can’t, no.” She was shaking her head from side to side so fast that she could feel the tears flying from her face.

Liu’s voice, in return, maintained its even tone. “I have not asked you to. And if I wanted that my men could hold you down. I am sure that a clever girl like you can think of some other way to provide relief.” No sex, at least she’d won that small victory, her relief clouded by the images of rape Liu’s words conjured up. She huddled on the bed, fear running through her. Laurel knew that she was at the mercy of these men, that in the end they could do to her whatever they wanted. Maybe her only hope was cooperation, that maybe that way she could avoid the worst, not that she was sure anymore what that was. She couldn’t see any other choice, her eyes were fixed on Liu, unable to read anything in his features, all she could feel was her breath, short and panicked, feelings of fear and desperation making her claw at the bedclothes.

Laurel didn’t want it to, but she couldn’t stop the thoughts, her mind working, remembering what she’d done with her boyfriends. Sex was out of the question and she wasn’t going to blow anyone. But she’d given one of her boyfriends a handjob a couple of times. She didn’t like the idea, hadn’t enjoyed it. More than that the idea of doing it to a stranger revolted her. Or at least it did, just for a moment. She thought it should, confusion rising as the bile in her throat retreated.

The men had been getting worked up, Laurel knew that, she’d felt more than one erection, pressed up against her thighs, her hips, a couple even rubbing against her, much as she’d tried to ignore it. She realised that Liu would be bringing other men to her, that caressing her body, fondling and groping her breasts, would probably give them an erection as well. Much as she didn’t want to she couldn’t help herself wondering what those cocks would look like, what they would feel like. Fear rose, dulling the images. Laurel told herself that she shouldn’t be thinking about the men like that, couldn’t understand why she was. Doubt and confusion whirled in her mind, until the emotions started to fade, vanishing into whiteness. The image of her hand on a cock, any cock, burned in her imagination, the feel of it, rigid as her fingers ran over it. Something was wrong, the idea should revolt her. She was sure it had, just a minute ago. Any such feelings were disappearing, gone, into that glowing void in her head.

It was only fair, Laurel supposed, the men wanted relief. They’d become worked up with her, so she should do something about it. The idea intrigued her, her head strangely clear, she wondered what had occupied the space the images now held. Something had, but she couldn’t quite remember what. Touching their cocks wouldn’t be so bad, Laurel thought, it was just skin touching skin after all. She was sure that she should find it more of a problem than she did, but she couldn’t think why. It wasn’t like they would be having actual sex, she wasn’t going to be taking them into her body. She could put up with it, and she did have to cooperate. She could do this. A little voice told her that she may even like it.

“Okay,” she said, licking lips suddenly dry from nervousness, “but no more, nothing more, please.”

“I think,” Liu replied, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her request, “that we should provide you with some privacy. I suspect that your guests might appreciate it.”

Of course they would, Laurel thought. She doubted that the men would want to perform in front of Liu and his guards. What Liu wanted of her was, at least in some minor way, intimate, not something to be done in public. Laurel certainly wasn’t interested in putting on a show, perhaps she could win this small victory, retain some dignity. Then she realised that Liu had only spoken of the men’s privacy, no mention of her, and her victory turned to ashes almost before it was won.

“But remember,” Liu continued, “my men will be just outside the door. If you try to escape, or any other stupid act, they will be sure to make you suffer.”

Laurel cowered back on the bed. The idea had been lurking in the back of her mind that she might take advantage of the absence of Liu and his guards. Not that she saw any obvious ideas to try. She’d already seen that the window was securely locked and fastened and the only other way out of the room was the door. Where Liu’s men would be. Maybe something would occur to her, but she had little hope. Unable to summon up the words, still uncertain that agreeing was a good idea, Laurel nodded her head.

“Very good, you’ll find some tissues in the bottom of the wardrobe.” Liu and his men left and Laurel had few moments to herself. She shivered. She wasn’t looking forward to this. Something about it seemed wrong, she should have protested more. But she’d felt the erections through the men’s clothes and her hands were just another part of her body so really it was all just the same. Laurel was sure there was something not quite right there, but she couldn’t work out what it was and the thoughts dissolved as the next man entered the room.

The man was young, not much older than she was, Laurel noticed, Indian in appearance. He gave her two bills, but she didn’t bother looking at the denominations, simply stuffed them in her swelling handbag. He took his time letting his hands explore her body. Hesitation and doubt rose in Laurel’s, warring with a growing arousal. She knew what she’d agreed to do, could picture it in her mind. She could feel her hands pulse as a small sheen of sweat covered them. She knew what those hands, her hands, would soon be doing, or at least what she’d promised Liu they would do.

Laurel swallowed, fighting to keep down the contents of her stomach. A barrier rose in her mind, one she built, between what she was doing now and what she was supposed to do all too soon. She could slip off her dress, she’d done that before, couldn’t remember how many times, could even feel small pulses of arousal start, her body knowing what would follow. The man’s hands upon her, roaming, fondling. Then they were on the bed and her bra was gone. That was ok too, she was used to that now and the pulses of arousal grew stronger, closer together, her body shocking her by how strongly it was reacting to the man’s hands upon her. She moaned as he started kissing her breasts. Her nipples were erect, aching, desperate for attention and Laurel sighed as the man locked his lips around one, fondling the other breast with one hand as he held her to him with his free arm.

She watched what happened, almost on auto pilot. Yes, she admitted, she’d slipped off her dress, run her hands up and down the man’s torso. Hardly an active participant, hardly at fault. But Laurel knew that she’d let it happen, had heard her own moans and sighs as her body reacted, as she drank in the feelings of arousal.

The man took one of Laurel’s hands and started to guide it to his crotch. Something held her back, was telling her this was wrong, that she should resist caressing a stranger’s cock. She knew it wasn’t something she’d done before. Her boyfriends, yes, sometimes, but not a stranger. She knew there must be a reason for that, but she couldn’t think what. She couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t. Not that it was easy for her to think right now, arousal taking up whatever space in her mind wasn’t occupied by a fuzzy white cloud. Still, her arm stiffened, resisting the motion, not enough to fight the man, just enough to slow the movement. Maybe, a traitorous thought whispered, make him think she was playing along, a show of resistance to make him more excited. Yet her hesitation, at least to Laurel, was all too real. For all her arousal, for all her inability to think of a reason, she didn’t want to do this.

Her eyes were fixed on the man’s crotch. She could see the outline of his cock though his trousers. Laurel could feel the jolts of her own arousal, coming in time with her heart beat. She could feel her hand shaking as it slowly edged towards that outline, shame fighting to find a foothold in her mind. But it could find no reason, no foundation, all gone. Laurel resisted, for a final moment, certain there should be some cause for her hesitation, before surrendering.

Her hand stroked over the man’s rigid member and Laurel wondered why she had ever had any doubts. It was the man’s private parts that were being touched, not hers and she was so aroused, waves of pleasure spreading through her and part of her was still trying to tell her that touching a stranger’s cock shouldn’t feel so delicious and she was so confused because the feeling was so good and the little thoughts that were trying to hold her back made no sense.

The man’s cock wasn’t quite completely erect but even through the his trousers running her hand up and down it was so wonderful, she wanted to feel it properly, hold the silky skin in her hands. Eagerness, arousal, filled her mind, the white void retreating.

Hurriedly Laurel helped the man with his trousers and underwear and then it was there, in front of her, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. The man’s cock. Laurel ran a finger along its length, marvelling at the silky feel. She hadn’t, she admitted, ever taken enough time to truly appreciate her boyfriends’ cocks. Not that she’d had that many of them, boyfriend or cocks. This one didn’t seem particular unusual, but it was here and, she realised, it was erect for her. The thought sent a wave of warmth through her body, ending deep within her. She wasn’t sure why just looking at a cock should turn her on so much. She frowned, thought that surely a stranger’s cock shouldn’t make her feel like this. Laurel pushed the thought away. She was aroused and all she wanted to do was touch what was right in front of her. Hurriedly she grabbed the cock and started running her hand up and down, just as her boyfriend liked, not too hard and not too loose.

“Oh yeah, girl, that’s it, yeah,” the man encouraged her.

When Laurel thought it was time she grabbed some tissues and got ready. It wasn’t a perfect catch, the fluid seeping past the tissues and she felt a wave of embarrassment as some of it seeped over her fingers and onto her hand. Her stomach turned, almost enough to make her gag, as she looked at the sticky whitish fluid dripping over her fingers. Laurel blinked, wondering again why she’d agreed to this, dark fingers of regret trying to gain a purchase in her mind, her body was shaking and she couldn’t stop it. She shook her head, trying to quell the thoughts, regain control of her body. After a moment her mind and body stilled, and all she could feel were the tremors of her arousal. The man didn’t appear to have noticed her turmoil, lost in his own pleasure. Laurel helped him clean up then saw to herself.

Her technique improved with the next few men, her disquiet subsiding and vanishing, nothing to spoil the warmth of her arousal and wonderful feeling of her hands gliding over an erect cock. It was an easy enough task, the men went away happy and Laurel decided it hadn’t been as much of a chore as she thought it might be. In fact, she decided, she rather enjoyed the feel of a cock in her hands and wished she’d done it more often with her boyfriends. Oh well, she could make up for that when she got out of here. Laurel was starting to think she might just survive this. After all, she was cooperating.

“Very good,” Mr Liu commented, checking in on her after one of the men left. For a wild moment Laurel thought about rushing him, but realised that his guards would be just outside, so she discarded the idea. Instead she smiled back, accepting the compliment.

“But you are still not being entirely fair.” Mr Liu said, only a slight note of admonishment in his voice, but still enough for Laurel to hear.

“What?” exclaimed Laurel, “I’m jacking them off for Christ’s sake. What more do you want?” She stopped, her eyes loosing focus as she wondered at her language, and how she had dared use it to her captor.

If Mr. Liu was offended, he gave no sign. “Yes, you are giving them relief after working them up.” Laurel frowned. Liu was making it sound like it was her fault that the men were getting aroused. All right, she was kissing and cuddling them and letting them fondle her, but Liu was making her do it. Wasn’t he? She thought he was, but then she thought how much she was enjoying herself. Somehow the dots in her mind wouldn’t connect.

“Still,” Liu continued, “you are touching them in ways that they are not touching you. Hardly fair.”

Well, that was true Laurel admitted. She was touching their cocks and they weren’t doing anything like that to her. Breasts didn’t really count after all. Laurel stopped herself after that last thought. Breasts should count. Strange men touching her breasts should matter to her. It certainly made her feel good, she couldn’t deny the arousal it brought. It just didn’t seem to Laurel that it wasn’t anything she should worry about or be ashamed of. Somehow she thought it once had, or should have, or something, but that thought was small and distant. It wasn’t important, not anymore, and it felt nice when they did and in the end it didn’t seem important enough to worry about. So if she was going to be fair she supposed that she would have to let them touch her.

“Okay, but that’s the limit, this has gone far enough,” Laurel insisted. “I’m not some slut or anything.” Going further than what Liu was now suggesting would be something only a slut would do.

“Of course not,” Liu sounded all sincerity, he even inclined his head, “I would never think such a thing of you.”

Laurel’s breaths were shallow and sharp as the next man’s hands wandered over her body. She knew what was coming. He spent little time on her breasts before his hands headed in the direction of her knickers. May as well get this over with, she thought. She stood up and quickly shimmied out of her remaining garment. The man’s hand sought her crotch as soon as she was back on the bed. The touch was electric, Laurel couldn’t believe how good it felt, as he cupped her, ran his fingers along her slit. It was as if she’d been waiting for it, needing it, for she couldn’t imagine how long. First one, then two fingers entered her, slipping in easily, she was so wet, surprising herself at her body’s eagerness. The man wasn’t particularly skilled, there was no rhythm to his attentions and he didn’t seem to know what her clit was, but it didn’t matter, the feeling of him inside her was enough. Laurel had trouble concentrating on her task as sparks shot across her vision, she could feel waves of ecstasy shooting up her spine, bursting in her hindbrain. She came as the man did, the sensation a crashing wave through her body, and she had to fight to hold onto enough concentration to keep the tissues in place. Even so, Laurel admitted as she flopped back on the bed, it was one of the best orgasms she’d ever had. “Thank you,” she said, not rising as the man left.

Laurel lay there, looking up at the white ceiling, as she heard the man leaving, the sounds no more than ghosts drifting through her consciousness. The warm afterglow she felt rippling through her warred with shock. She’d just let a stranger finger her to an orgasm. That wasn’t her, that wasn’t the sort of person Laurel thought she was. She didn’t understand how she’d let it happen, let alone how it had felt so good. Her body started to shake, spasms she couldn’t control. She rolled over, huddled into the pillows like a child, trying to ignore the warm stickiness of her own fluids on her thighs. Her breath came in great heaving sobs as she wondered what was happening to her. What did I just do? Laurel asked herself, the question itself a denial of the answer she knew all too well.

“Laurel?” she heard Liu asking, his tone warmed for once by a hint of kindness. Laurel rocked back and forth for a while before she summoned the courage to sit up, carefully holding the bedclothes around her so Liu wouldn’t see her nakedness.

He was standing there, offering the porcelain cup. “I think you will feel better if you drink this.”

Laurel could feel how dry her lips were, the cloying sticky feeling in her mouth. She reached out for the cup, bedclothes still tightly clutched in her fingers, then quickly gulped down the water.

Liu was right, she could feel her nerves calming almost as soon as she swallowed the water.

“There,” he said, “it is not so bad, is it?”

Laurel had to concentrate to understand his words, her thoughts blurring into a white nothing. But she had to agree with him. She didn’t feel so bad now, all she could remember was how good her release had felt, everything else melting away into that white space in her head. She could get through this.

The orgasms from the men that followed were just as good. She was getting to rather like the feel of their fingers inside her, stroking, probing, caressing, even when they were hard and rough, her pussy felt much better with something in it than when it was empty. Their fingers running across her sensitive skin, the delicious friction as they probed her folds, the pressure as they stroked her inner walls, all of it had her lips trembling, moaning with pleasure. She liked it best when her clit shared in the attention, but not every man remembered that. She came every time, regardless, waves of glowing pleasure bursting over her senses as she crested.

“I am pleased at your cooperation,” Liu said, entering the room as Laurel finished dressing after yet another man had left, “but I suspect that you are not satisfied.” Oh, I don’t know about that, Laurel thought, smiling, the glow of her last orgasm not yet faded. Then she stopped herself. There was a gnawing feeling that letting men touch her wherever they wanted wasn’t something she should be doing. She’d never let anyone do that before, well, only her boyfriends. These men weren’t her boyfriends, she didn’t even know them. Letting a man touch her breasts didn’t worry her, but somehow she thought that letting men finger her pussy should concern her more than it did. Laurel tried to follow the thought, but it led nowhere, disappearing into a white space. All that was left was the pleasure the men’s touch had brought her. Just the sight of a man entering the room was enough to get her wet, her breasts aching to be touched, her pussy eager for the wonderful sensations as their fingers pushed inside.

But, she admitted, there was an itch that hadn’t been scratched yet. It looked like Mr. Liu was right. A little voice told her that Mr Liu was always right. Laurel couldn’t think of anytime he’d been wrong, so she had to agree with the voice. She nodded.

“These men, who have been touching you, quite intimately.” Laurel blushed at Liu’s words, but she couldn’t contradict him.

“I can see,” her captor continued, “that this has left you aroused. Not fully satisfied.”

Laurel wanted to protest, deny their truth, but the words died in her throat, determination melting under Liu’s cold gaze. She’d been more than aroused, she admitted to herself, but it was hard to be satisfied about anything when you were kidnapped.

“You are a woman, and these men have left you aroused. An aroused woman, let us be frank, desires to be penetrated. You wish to be penetrated.”

Liu’s words were cold, clinical, but Laurel knew what he meant. Take those cocks into her body. Sex, in some form at least. Let herself be violated, used. She couldn’t, not that.

Eyes wide, the word escaped Laurel’s lips before she could even think, “No!”

(To Be Continued)