Disclaimer: The following story is fiction meant for adults only. If you are not an adult or adult stories offend you then you don’t belong on this site anyway.
A college student is tricked into thinking her mother is kidnapped. Instead, the college student is kidnapped into a sex slave operation.
The band director pointed to the back of the band and motioned for a crescendo. Melodic booming brass instruments played their part beautifully. Then, the conductor motioned to me. I took a calming breath and began to play my part. My music intertwined with the brass and woodwinds until their parts softly ceased. My instrument produced a rich eloquent tone that touched the hearts of everyone listening. The music danced through all the appropriate emotions until my solo, and the song itself, ended. For a few seconds there was nothing but silence.
Someone coughed and that appeared to break the spell my song wove. “Excellent solo Amber,” the band director Mr. Mitchell said, “Your bowing technique is spot on. Everyone else played their part perfectly. I’m confident we are ready. Play exactly that way tomorrow.” I heard surprised murmurs from my fellow bandmates. It was rare for Mr. Mitchell to say we played to perfection. Usually there would be a brass instrument out of tune, or a clarinet’s reed won’t work right, or I hadn’t put enough rosin on my bow, or someone plays the wrong note.
With rehearsal over I carefully put up my instrument and went through the mental list of anything I needed to do before heading back to the college apartments, or dorm depending on who you’re talking with. My phone buzzed with a text message from my mom. “Call when alone.” My mom always texted in full sentences. She would never send me something like that! Something was clearly wrong, but mom and dad were supposed to be on a flight to Italy for their second honeymoon at that very moment. How did she text me? My heart pounded as I took a seldom used path to my apartment. I glanced around twice. No one had followed me so I pressed the call button to call her.
The phone picked up after one ring “We have your mother” a robotic distorted voice announced. I laughed, relief flooding through me because I knew this was a common scam. “You’re an idiot. My mother is safe with me. I’m looking at her right now.” Of course that wasn’t true, but the scammer didn’t need to know that. Whoever it was probably saw my parents were on their way to Italy through Facebook and spoofed my mom’s number to try and get me to pay a ransom. It was a scam too many people fell for. I was too smart for them - or so I thought.
“No. We have her. She did not get on the plane to Italy.” I shook my head. Just like I thought. Someone saw a post on Facebook and… “Hang up and accept the FaceTime call.” My heart dropped into my stomach. That wasn’t part of the common scam! Sure enough, when I accepted the FaceTime call there was my mother gagged with duct tape with two people in black masks. She looked to be unconscious. I froze in place, fear gripping my whole body. “No…mom…” I managed to choke out. “Please don’t hurt her!”
“Now you see we are serious. Follow instructions and no harm will come to your mother. Walk to your left away from the campus. Do not hang up the phone or attempt to call anyone else.”
“C…can you see me now?”
“Yes. You are wearing black boots, jeans, and a green hoodie.”
That information was definitely not on any social media under my parents control or my own. Maybe someone took a picture of me earlier that day? I would have remembered if someone did that. Usually I’m tagged if someone posts a picture of me on their wall. I decided to do one last test. I jumped three times.
“What did I just do?”
“You jumped three times. We see no one is around you. Walk closer to the street. A black van will pull up. Get inside if you want your mother to live.”
Thoughts raced through my mind. Why did they want my mother? Why me? What did we do to deserve this? Before more questions popped up the black van pulled up. A side door opened. Someone dressed in all black motioned for me to get in. Trembling, I stepped inside where there was a driver and two others, all looked like they were men. The door closed and the van slowly moved away from campus.
“Where’s my mother?”
“Give me your phone.”
“First my mother.”
“Last chance. Give me your phone.”
“Prove to me my mother is ok first.”
Before I knew it one of the men twisted my arms painfully behind my back. I felt a squeeze on my wrist that held my phone, causing me to drop it. An ear piercing scream escaped my lips. My scream didn’t deter the men. The one who didn’t hold me fastened a collar around my neck. I pulled and tugged as much as I could to get away, but I wasn’t strong enough. Suddenly my neck felt like a thousand needles were piercing it. Electrical shocks from the collar prevented me from moving. I felt the men tug at my clothing before I passed out.
I awoke in what appeared to be some kind of large basement on a mattress that looked to be stained with years of sex. I was also completely nude to my disgust. There were others with me all laying on their own dirty mattress like I was with the same black collar around their throats. My eyes darted around the basement. There was a bathroom nearby with no door. I was able to see the toilet from where I was. Desperate to pee after waking up, I slowly rolled off the mattress.
“Be careful. Don’t cross the yellow tape on the floor.”
The yellow tape thankfully included the bathroom area. I nodded to the woman who spoke to me with a flat tone dead of emotion. After relieving myself, and feeling even more disgusted with the lack of soap and hand sanitizer, I approached the woman who warned me. The area of yellow tape covered an area maybe a quarter of the size of the basement. I could see a door leading to another room beyond the yellow tape along with a staircase nearby and a computer next to the staircase. The computer would be my ticket out of the hellhole I was in along with finding my mother - if I could reach it.
“My name is Amber, what’s yours?”
“My name is unimportant. I live to serve clients and owners.” Her response was not a good sign. I knew right away I couldn’t trust her or possibly any of the other women with any form of escape plan. There was no telling how long they had been kept here. I had to be careful and gather the information I needed to escape slowly.
“What happens if I cross the yellow tape?”
“Without a client or an owner? You get shocked.”
“How bad of a shock?”
“Depends on what you do.” The woman demonstrated by stepping her left foot outside the yellow tape. I saw an electrical current pass from the collar onto her skin.
“One step out is a mild shock. Maybe you weren’t paying attention. Step back in and you’ll be fine. Two steps out is a medium shock with a two second window of no shock to go back into our designated area. The two second window is in case of a malfunction so that the collar can be disabled if it was an error. Ignore the two second window and you are shocked to the point of passing out. It’s a constant pulse of carefully timed shocks to keep you passed out but alive until they find you and put you back here.”
“The collars can be disabled?” I asked, a more detailed plan forming in my head. I had to disable the collars then get to the computer without being seen.
“Do not bother. You cannot disable your own. Many have tried all with the same result.”
“Electrical shock?” She nodded. “Ok, I need to know anything else that sets off the shock.”
“Whenever a client or owner comes nearby we receive a mild shock to ensure our submissiveness. With you it will be moderate until you submit enough times for them to be satisfied.”
“And is the shock constant?”
“No. Only if you go too far away from a client or owner outside the yellow tape.”
“How far away is too far away?” She shrugged then winced as an electrical current passed through her. “Some body movements also cause a shock as you can see. Especially if you move your arms or legs quickly as if you are running.”
At that moment a bell chimed three times. It sounded like your average school bell. All the women rose and stood in front of the mattresses like robots. I played along, following suit. If I was to escape from here along with finding my mother, I needed to act as compliant as possible for the moment.
Three men with black masks clomped down the stairs. None of us moved. The men each went to different women. I could see out of my peripheral vision - something I had plenty of practice with thanks to being in marching band - that they were inspecting the women with their eyes and hands. Gross. Some of the women twitched from the electrical shock as the men approached. Others did not. One of the men stopped in front of me. The shock was moderately painful. It wasn’t enough for me to black out but was enough to dull my senses.
A college student is tricked into thinking her mother is kidnapped. Instead, the college student is kidnapped into a sex slave operation.
A Song Without Music
The band director pointed to the back of the band and motioned for a crescendo. Melodic booming brass instruments played their part beautifully. Then, the conductor motioned to me. I took a calming breath and began to play my part. My music intertwined with the brass and woodwinds until their parts softly ceased. My instrument produced a rich eloquent tone that touched the hearts of everyone listening. The music danced through all the appropriate emotions until my solo, and the song itself, ended. For a few seconds there was nothing but silence.
Someone coughed and that appeared to break the spell my song wove. “Excellent solo Amber,” the band director Mr. Mitchell said, “Your bowing technique is spot on. Everyone else played their part perfectly. I’m confident we are ready. Play exactly that way tomorrow.” I heard surprised murmurs from my fellow bandmates. It was rare for Mr. Mitchell to say we played to perfection. Usually there would be a brass instrument out of tune, or a clarinet’s reed won’t work right, or I hadn’t put enough rosin on my bow, or someone plays the wrong note.
With rehearsal over I carefully put up my instrument and went through the mental list of anything I needed to do before heading back to the college apartments, or dorm depending on who you’re talking with. My phone buzzed with a text message from my mom. “Call when alone.” My mom always texted in full sentences. She would never send me something like that! Something was clearly wrong, but mom and dad were supposed to be on a flight to Italy for their second honeymoon at that very moment. How did she text me? My heart pounded as I took a seldom used path to my apartment. I glanced around twice. No one had followed me so I pressed the call button to call her.
The phone picked up after one ring “We have your mother” a robotic distorted voice announced. I laughed, relief flooding through me because I knew this was a common scam. “You’re an idiot. My mother is safe with me. I’m looking at her right now.” Of course that wasn’t true, but the scammer didn’t need to know that. Whoever it was probably saw my parents were on their way to Italy through Facebook and spoofed my mom’s number to try and get me to pay a ransom. It was a scam too many people fell for. I was too smart for them - or so I thought.
“No. We have her. She did not get on the plane to Italy.” I shook my head. Just like I thought. Someone saw a post on Facebook and… “Hang up and accept the FaceTime call.” My heart dropped into my stomach. That wasn’t part of the common scam! Sure enough, when I accepted the FaceTime call there was my mother gagged with duct tape with two people in black masks. She looked to be unconscious. I froze in place, fear gripping my whole body. “No…mom…” I managed to choke out. “Please don’t hurt her!”
“Now you see we are serious. Follow instructions and no harm will come to your mother. Walk to your left away from the campus. Do not hang up the phone or attempt to call anyone else.”
“C…can you see me now?”
“Yes. You are wearing black boots, jeans, and a green hoodie.”
That information was definitely not on any social media under my parents control or my own. Maybe someone took a picture of me earlier that day? I would have remembered if someone did that. Usually I’m tagged if someone posts a picture of me on their wall. I decided to do one last test. I jumped three times.
“What did I just do?”
“You jumped three times. We see no one is around you. Walk closer to the street. A black van will pull up. Get inside if you want your mother to live.”
Thoughts raced through my mind. Why did they want my mother? Why me? What did we do to deserve this? Before more questions popped up the black van pulled up. A side door opened. Someone dressed in all black motioned for me to get in. Trembling, I stepped inside where there was a driver and two others, all looked like they were men. The door closed and the van slowly moved away from campus.
“Where’s my mother?”
“Give me your phone.”
“First my mother.”
“Last chance. Give me your phone.”
“Prove to me my mother is ok first.”
Before I knew it one of the men twisted my arms painfully behind my back. I felt a squeeze on my wrist that held my phone, causing me to drop it. An ear piercing scream escaped my lips. My scream didn’t deter the men. The one who didn’t hold me fastened a collar around my neck. I pulled and tugged as much as I could to get away, but I wasn’t strong enough. Suddenly my neck felt like a thousand needles were piercing it. Electrical shocks from the collar prevented me from moving. I felt the men tug at my clothing before I passed out.
I awoke in what appeared to be some kind of large basement on a mattress that looked to be stained with years of sex. I was also completely nude to my disgust. There were others with me all laying on their own dirty mattress like I was with the same black collar around their throats. My eyes darted around the basement. There was a bathroom nearby with no door. I was able to see the toilet from where I was. Desperate to pee after waking up, I slowly rolled off the mattress.
“Be careful. Don’t cross the yellow tape on the floor.”
The yellow tape thankfully included the bathroom area. I nodded to the woman who spoke to me with a flat tone dead of emotion. After relieving myself, and feeling even more disgusted with the lack of soap and hand sanitizer, I approached the woman who warned me. The area of yellow tape covered an area maybe a quarter of the size of the basement. I could see a door leading to another room beyond the yellow tape along with a staircase nearby and a computer next to the staircase. The computer would be my ticket out of the hellhole I was in along with finding my mother - if I could reach it.
“My name is Amber, what’s yours?”
“My name is unimportant. I live to serve clients and owners.” Her response was not a good sign. I knew right away I couldn’t trust her or possibly any of the other women with any form of escape plan. There was no telling how long they had been kept here. I had to be careful and gather the information I needed to escape slowly.
“What happens if I cross the yellow tape?”
“Without a client or an owner? You get shocked.”
“How bad of a shock?”
“Depends on what you do.” The woman demonstrated by stepping her left foot outside the yellow tape. I saw an electrical current pass from the collar onto her skin.
“One step out is a mild shock. Maybe you weren’t paying attention. Step back in and you’ll be fine. Two steps out is a medium shock with a two second window of no shock to go back into our designated area. The two second window is in case of a malfunction so that the collar can be disabled if it was an error. Ignore the two second window and you are shocked to the point of passing out. It’s a constant pulse of carefully timed shocks to keep you passed out but alive until they find you and put you back here.”
“The collars can be disabled?” I asked, a more detailed plan forming in my head. I had to disable the collars then get to the computer without being seen.
“Do not bother. You cannot disable your own. Many have tried all with the same result.”
“Electrical shock?” She nodded. “Ok, I need to know anything else that sets off the shock.”
“Whenever a client or owner comes nearby we receive a mild shock to ensure our submissiveness. With you it will be moderate until you submit enough times for them to be satisfied.”
“And is the shock constant?”
“No. Only if you go too far away from a client or owner outside the yellow tape.”
“How far away is too far away?” She shrugged then winced as an electrical current passed through her. “Some body movements also cause a shock as you can see. Especially if you move your arms or legs quickly as if you are running.”
At that moment a bell chimed three times. It sounded like your average school bell. All the women rose and stood in front of the mattresses like robots. I played along, following suit. If I was to escape from here along with finding my mother, I needed to act as compliant as possible for the moment.
Three men with black masks clomped down the stairs. None of us moved. The men each went to different women. I could see out of my peripheral vision - something I had plenty of practice with thanks to being in marching band - that they were inspecting the women with their eyes and hands. Gross. Some of the women twitched from the electrical shock as the men approached. Others did not. One of the men stopped in front of me. The shock was moderately painful. It wasn’t enough for me to black out but was enough to dull my senses.