Chapter 1

John’s first groggy impressions as he woke were that it must be a dream, but that quickly passed. He was in no place he had ever been, that was for sure. But he decided to not hurry too much getting up. He felt as if he had a hangover. No, it was worse than that. He had been drugged.

The last thing he remembered was going to bed in his own bedroom in his own house.

Now he was in a room, roughly 12 feet on a side, with a queen-size bed right in the center. No headboard or foot board. There were no windows but one door. High up there was a skylight which suggested it was daytime. Three walls of wood paneling, and one wall of a dark sort of mirror. A little bathroom had toilet, sink, and shower, but no door. It was very unusual to position a bed right in the middle of a room. It had a bottom sheet over some padding, but no other covering.

He sat up and found he was dressed in a loose-fitting brown robe, and absolutely nothing else. No underwear or socks. Fortunately the room was comfortably warm. He pulled the robe around him and figured he would find out where he was. But the door was locked. He called out and received no answer, then called out more loudly, and then yelled as the top of his lungs. No reply, just silence. Being locked in a room made him very uneasy. Well, he hoped someone would be in to visit him shortly and explain.

He heard footsteps and then the door opened. A woman appeared, dressed in a tan robe that she was holding around herself with her left hand. She looked him over once, shrugged, and closed the door behind her.

“Hello!” said John. “So where am I? What’s going on?”

“I, I am very confused as well, and I’ve been told not to talk about it. But would you ... would you be willing to have sex with me?”

John backed up a step, startled. The woman was an average twenty-something brunette. As she spoke, she let the robe drop, revealing a body that was very sexy — breasts and hips of the right size, slim in the waist. Shoulder-length brown hair and a tuft of brown pubic hair. Average twenty-something women were typically very sexy.

When John hesitated, she lay back in the middle of the bed, legs spread wide.

“But ... But what, where?”

“Better not to ask questions,” she said. “Not even about protection or contraception — or even foreplay. Just do me and come inside ... please?” He saw her glance at the bulge in his robe. “Looks like you’re ready.”

Among all the things he might be asked to do without explanation, this was surely one of the strangest, but also perhaps the most appealing. He let his robe drop and mounted the woman, letting his thighs down on hers. She held her lips apart. John aimed his penis and made contact with the hot wet of her opening, and then he pressed in. This was something he was very familiar with from his active sex life, and it was something he liked a whole lot. With repeated thrusts he got his cock in all the way, and started back and forth, giving her a lusty smile.

She smiled back at him and said, “No need to think about me. Just come whenever you’re ready.”

This situation was familiar too, but as a reward for patient work with his tongue, or on his back, or in this position but doing things exactly a certain way. But here it was offered for free, and he took the offer. He pounded away, enjoying the experience of sex on his own terms. After a minute she said, “I should say to please come as soon as you’re ready.” So he wasn’t totally free, but it was the most minor cause for complaint. He thrust hard and fast, with increasing intensity, and came within a minute, with a gasp of ecstasy. When he was fully satisfied he gave a few more lazy thrusts, then pulled out.

The woman immediately got up and put her robe around her.

“So you can’t say any more now? Now that it’s over?”

“Better not to,” she said. She gave a little curtsy, grabbing the edges of her robe as if it were a skirt. With the robe she was wearing the effect was to expose her crotch to his view for a moment. When she realized what had happened, she smiled and rolled her eyes. She said, “Thank you,” over her shoulder as she went out the door.

Remembering how he had been locked in, he raced for the door hoping to keep it from shutting, but he was a few moments too late.

“What’s going on?” he said with some volume and exasperation. No answer. His slick cock was shrinking, and he grabbed a towel from the bathroom to wipe it off, then lay back on the bed.

He guessed it was an hour later that he heard footsteps outside and raced to the door. When he tried it, it was locked, but a moment later it opened and a woman started through. He pushed her aside and left the room.

“No, don’t do that!” said the woman.

He felt a sharp pain in his head, but figured it was some bodily quirk.

It was a narrow little room, dimly lit, with a door at the other end. He raced to that door and turned the handle, but it was locked. The pain in his head came more sharply. Had he cracked a neck bone or something? Still, the most critical thing was getting out. The door opened inward, but still he pressed his shoulder against it, and then retreated a few inches and bashed against it with his shoulder, with as much force as he could muster. That’s when he felt a pain again in the back of his head — but this was a pain like no other pain he had ever felt. It was excruciating. When he backed away from the door it stopped. When he moved towards the door a mild version started again. That time he had to back up farther to make the pain stop. He got the idea he was supposed to go back into the main room, which was no great surprise. His robe had fallen off in all the commotion, and he sat on the edge of the bed naked, catching his breath. He felt with his fingers at the approximate place where he had felt the pain. At the base of his skull there was a shaved patch and unevenness suggesting a recent incision.

He motioned the woman over. She was wearing a robe of the same type that he and the other woman had on, but white.

“Do you know what that is?” he said, showing her the place at the back of his skull.

“I have one too,” she said, holding her robe shut with one arm and holding her hair out of the way with the other. “They put something in there and if we do something they don’t like, then they have a remote control to make it hurt.”

“They? Where are they?” asked John, anger rising.

After a glance around, she pointed to the smoky mirror. “There, I suspect. Probably one-way glass.”

John strode over to the wall. He was starting to put his face against the glass when he felt that pain in his neck again. As he approached again it came again, more intense, and he got the message. Do not go up to the glass wall.

He said, “What the hell is going on?” approaching the wall, hands in tight fists. He screamed in rage. The pain again. This was not a short burst. He grabbed his head with his hands and fell on the bed, thrashing around. It seemed forever until the pain stopped and he sprawled out on the bed,.