Trapped! is a work of adult fiction and contains sexually explicit material that some may find offensive. It is meant for persons over the age of 18 and is not suitable for children.

All characters contained within are purely fictional, any similarity of any character, event or place to any actual person, event or place, is purely coincidental. This story takes place in the fantasy world where disease and unwanted pregnancy are never an issue. In the real world they are very real threats and you should always protect yourself.

The author reserves all rights to this work. It may be freely distributed, posted and archived electronically only in its entirety including all header material. It may not be sold in whole or in any part, or as part of an electronic document, printed material, voice recording or any other manner without proper copyright clearances being obtained from the author.

Ann awoke with a start. Her momentary confusion at the strangeness of the dim room quickly dissipated as reality washed over her.

She was a prisoner! She shifted in the bed and the silver chains tethering her tinkled with the movements of her hands and feet. Other than the padded leather cuffs holding the chains, she wore nothing else.

Her 5 foot 8 inch, busty, statuesque body looked small in the huge four posted, king-sized bed. Each corner post had a bright silver chain attached to it. The chains were small, but she couldn't break them. They were long enough for her to move around on the bed but not quite long enough for her get off of it. The bedding was thick and lush but she moved carefully so as not to inadvertently catch her long blonde hair.

She heard a noise at the door and quickly knelt on the bed, her back straight and her chest thrust out before her. She had been kept here for almost a week and vividly recalled the painful punishments the man... her master... inflicted if she wasn't positioned just so when he walked in.

The door opened and the man... Master... came in. He moved slowly towards her, leering at her full breasts and thick wavy hair. She didn't know his name, he had told her to call him 'Master' and if she forgot his reminders were brutal. Her arms were still sore from yesterday, though it appeared the bruises had already faded.

"Lie down on your back." He ordered.

She complied, fear creeping along her spine. She knew what was coming.

Ann was a real estate agent, a profession that was viciously competitive. When a call had come into the office from a man who had a house to sell she had jumped on it immediately. She did have some qualms when she realized the address was in a very remote area but was loath to split her commission with any of the other agents she worked with. They were all scavengers and she didn't trust them.

She remembered that he had been sitting in a van when she pulled up. He got out and explained that the house had been sitting vacant for some time and he only had a key to the back door. As soon as she had walked behind the house and out of site of the road he subdued her, bound her and brought her here. He had locked her to the bed and told her that he would keep her for a week, use her as he wished and then he would kill her.

With horror she realized the week was about up.

She didn't want to die. She would be forty years old next month - if she survived. She had always dreaded turning forty, especially since she currently didn't have any significant other in her life. Because of that she had known that her birthday would merely be marked by a short celebration in the conference room attended by all those twenty-something bitches that would be trying to figure out how to screw her out of her commissions even as they sang 'Happy Birthday.' They would be smirking at her dismay at finally reaching the 'Big four-Oh.'

She had thought that would be the greatest horror of her life, but that was before she knew what true horror was.

Now she would give anything to have those very same bitches present her with a birthday cake with forty candles upon it. The smirks would be welcome and they could have the fucking commissions. She bit back the tears that threatened to flow. She would be damned if she would give him tears this easily.

She had hoped that if she pleased him and followed instructions closely enough that he might spare her. A small hope at best but it was the only one she had.

He moved to each corner of the bed and tightened the chains until she was securely bound in a spread eagle position, completely vulnerable.

He had done this several times a day for the past week and she vividly recalled each instance.

The whip would come next. It always did. She remembered how he would call her his slave while he beat her. Angry welts would form on her belly, breasts and thighs. Welts that must fade quickly as none were in evidence right now but painful welts nonetheless.

As painful as it was, she wasn't allowed to cry out in pain. She wasn't allowed to beg for mercy or promise any particular behavior, she wasn't allowed to say anything at all. If she did it only made the beating more severe, he may even trade the whip for something more substantial. She had learned to remain quiet despite the painful treatment. The pain was new but keeping quiet in the face of adversity wasn't. She had long ago learned to hold her tongue when the office politics got sordid or she had to endure the brunt of her superior's foul moods.

He would continue with the whip until he had brought forth a steady stream of silent tears, again something she had learned to do at the office, then he would mount her, plunging his cock furiously into her over and over again with no concern for her comfort or pleasure. He would distractedly slam into her until grunts and moans signaled his release.

She held her breath waiting for the pain. Perhaps this would be the time he would beat her and beat her, not stopping until she lay lifeless and broken. She steeled herself. So be it. She would remain silent.

The pain didn't come. Instead, he lightly caressed her in a lingering trail, starting at her cheek and ending in the small patch of golden hair right above her pussy. Her body shivered at the touch. One finger slowly moved down to explore her tiny slit. Her fear receded slightly. His touch had never been gentle before.

Her terror returned tenfold. Maybe he was trying to fool her. Play at being nice and then turn more brutal and nasty then ever. He would probably love to see the shocked look on her face as she realized the betrayal just before he killed her. Resolve replaced the fear. He could try, she had been well versed in betrayal and she would hardly be shocked by it.