Captive
By Merz
Trapped by a powerful woman, a nightmare begins


I go back and forth. Some days I try to forget I ever saw her, to block out
any memory of what she looks like. Other days I try to remember every detail,
hoping I can come up with something that will help catch her and get her
locked up the way I was locked up.

What I can remember precisely is how it started. It was late at night but the
freeway was backed up because of an accident somewhere, and it was pouring
rain. I crawled along, my frustration rising. Finally after being trapped
bumper to bumper for nearly an hour I spotted an exit coming up and wormed my
way toward the right. Just as I was about to get out of the morass a car came
up and blocked me as I tried to shoot across the right lane. I laid on my horn
and screamed but the bastard just crept along, forcing me to stay a lane away
from the exit. The current carried me past my hope of escape, and I knew there
wouldn't be another for over a mile.

The Honda beater that had blocked me from my exit took that one and so did I.
The twenty minutes I had spent behind that car fed my anger. I followed when
the car turned down a dark lane a couple blocks from the freeway. When it got
close to a stop sign I suddenly shot around it and slammed on my brakes. The
crash when the jalopy hit my rear bumper gave me the last smile I would have
for a long time.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," I shouted as I sprang from my car
and raced around to look at the bumper. "Where did you learn to drive,
Tijuana? You better have damn good insurance!" I had rehearsed my speech as we
inched toward this rendezvous. I sounded properly outraged, and hoped the
other driver would have to pay plenty for rear ending me. I didn't care if he
had insurance or not. The damage would be insignificant but I had maneuvered
so he would be found at fault and would not only have to apologize to me but
come up with some cash. It would be sweet revenge for making me miss my exit.

The other driver was a woman. Even better. In the dark and the rain I could
see that she wore a very short skirt and her legs seemed pretty thick. She
slammed her door and marched towards me. "What am I doing? You're the asshole
who cut in front of me and hit the brakes." As she got closer I realized the
skirt was part of a uniform, probably a waitress outfit. Close up she looked
to be in her mid-thirties, average height, probably not bad looking if I could
see her in the light.

"You're the one who hit me. The law is on my side in this one, sweetheart. You
do have insurance?" Now I would tone it down, sound just as reasonable and
smug as I could. That would rub her face in the fact that she'd be the one
picking up the tab for this little fender-bender, and that with my BMW it was
likely to cost her a bundle for any ding or scratch in my rear bumper.

"Wait a minute! You're the same maniac who tried to sideswipe me on the
freeway! Are you stalking me or something? I don't even know who you are." She
was practically up against me now, shaking because she was so pissed off. And
I knew there wasn't a thing she could do about it but stand there and get
soaked.

I pulled out my wallet to start the process of exchanging info so my insurance
company could begin squeezing her. I was prepared to accept a sizable chunk of
cash right there if she wanted to just admit defeat and pay me off so this
wouldn't show up on her record. I wasn't prepared for her to just snatch the
wallet out of my hand and start going through it.

"Who are you?" She demanded. "Are you following me? Did someone put you up to
this or what?" She was looking at my drivers license, not the couple hundred
bucks I had in my wallet.

"You can't just take my billfold," I said, rather foolishly since she had done
exactly that. I grabbed for it and then when she turned and pulled it out of
reach I grabbed her. Probably I grabbed her harder than I wanted, because I
was mad all over again now. I hadn't expected this reaction from her.

She slapped my hand away and pushed me off. That just made me madder yet so I
first pushed her back and then grabbed the shoulder of her uniform as I
reached for my wallet again. When she held it away from me I jerked her toward
me and heard the material rip. That's when things really went wrong.

"You fuck!" she yelled, looking at the rip. Before I could do anything she
dropped the wallet and followed the direction of my pull at the same time she
threw a punch at my face. It exploded on my nose and I instantly saw stars as
my head snapped back. Even though it was the hardest I had ever been hit in my
life up to that time, the first thing I thought of was "lawsuit," and for an
instant I thought I had her by the tits even worse than just the car crash
scam. Little did I know.

The blow knocked me back a couple of steps. As she came after me I
instinctively put my fists up even though I had never been in a real fight. I
may even have made a move she could interpret as my trying to hit her back.
"I'll kill you for that," I remember shouting. "I will fuck you up good!"

She twitched her right hand and when I looked at it, hit me even harder with
her left fist than she had the first time. I staggered backwards but she
followed and hit me in the face a third time, then knocked the wind out of me
with a punch to the solar plexus and finally finished it with yet another
smashing fist to my jaw.

I never lost consciousness like you see in the movies. I was always aware of
what was happening instead of it being like sleeping. I was aware of lying in
a heap on the wet pavement. I knew she hesitated only a few seconds before she
bodily hauled me up off the ground, worked me over her shoulder and staggered
back to her car. She opened the door, dumped me onto the back seat and slammed
the door. A minute later she got in, started the car and drove what seemed a
very short distance, maybe only a block or two. When she opened the back door
and started pulling me out I had regained enough of my senses to try to stop
her. First I held onto the door until she rapped my knuckles and I let go.
Once she had me out I tried to fight her off, but I was still pretty groggy. I
wrestled with her a little until she got in another shot to my midsection
followed by still another punch to my face.

I would have fallen to the ground, but she got behind me and caught me under
the armpits. Then she dragged me, kicking weakly, around to the side of a
house and down a set of slippery concrete steps. With one hand she opened a
door and twisted abruptly so I was literally thrown over her hip onto the
concrete floor. There was nothing I could do to stop her giving me a quick
search. She took my checkbook, wrist watch, and cell phone. Without saying a
word she went out, slammed the door and turned a key in the lock.

Lying in the dark I slowly recovered. From the time I hit my brakes in front
of her this whole thing had taken less than fifteen minutes, I realized. I
replayed it again and again in my mind. The collision, the confrontation, then
her first blow when things started to go so terribly wrong, and I started
losing track of time and place and events.

Who was she? Did she know me before she attacked me? No, I was the one who
picked her, not the other way around. How could she have hurt me so badly? My
face felt swollen, throbbing painfully in several places. My nose was
bleeding, and my lip. When I tried to sit up my ribs and midsection hurt. My
head started spinning so I lay down again, trying to reconstruct events.

I had grabbed her by the arm when she snatched my wallet, but it hadn't
registered until now that her arm felt thick and firm, unlike any woman's I
had felt before. She had hit me so hard because she was strong for a woman,
and she had acted like this wasn't the first time she had been in a fight. Now
I remembered that she had picked me up off the ground, a hundred and seventy
pounds of dead weight, and carried me for several steps to her car. That meant
she had to be very strong, and I realized that when she pulled me out of her
car I really had tried to fight back but she overpowered me. Maybe I was weak
from the beating she had given me, but it seemed unbelievable that any woman
could handle me so decisively. She had seemed average sized, but she had
completely dominated me. Who or what in the world was I dealing with? I got my
handkerchief and held it to my bleeding nose as I lay in the darkness trying
to understand any of this.

An hour must have passed before I felt enough like myself again to figure out
where I was. I felt to the door and found it solid and locked securely from
the outside. I felt around without finding a light switch. If there were
windows they weren't letting in any light so the place was pitch black. I
banged on the door and yelled for several minutes but got no response. The
door didn't rattle from my blows and the knob didn't move even a fraction of
an inch.

Feeling around I couldn't find much in the little room. No tools, no
furniture, no furnace or freezer or sink. One water pipe came in through the
wall and then went up through the ceiling, and a big drain pipe ran from
ceiling to floor in a corner. It was just an empty twelve foot by twelve foot
concrete room. I found another door that was just as solid as the first one,
and I found a couple pieces of wood. I selected a two by four and decided to
sit and wait until my captor came back. Then I'd get even.

I shivered in the cold with my damp clothes. I huddled as best I could to stay
warm, but it was miserable. It seemed like hours passed before I heard a key
in the lock. There had been no sound from outside, just the sudden turning of
the lock. I stood up as quickly as I could and felt for my club. If she begged
me to forgive her, if she apologized for everything, I had decided I wouldn't
automatically crush her skull. But the law would have to be on my side. How
the two of us came to be in her basement might take some explaining: that she
had kidnapped me rather than my having broken in to rob her or anything of
that sort. She wasn't the victim, the law had to see, I was so whatever
happened was self defense. They would only have to see my cuts and bruises to
realize that.

She opened the door quickly and stepped inside, closing it behind her. A
second later she turned on a light by pulling a short cord I hadn't found and
it momentarily blinded me, even though it was pretty dim. I threw an arm
across my eyes and cocked back the two by four.

"You asshole! Don't you ever quit?" She sounded shocked, but she didn't miss a
beat. She rushed forward rather than shrink back as I would have expected,
seeing a strange man threatening to hit her with a board. In two steps she was
in front of me. Instinctively I pulled back, ready to swing my club, but never
got the chance.

She got a hand on mine to prevent me from swinging if I had really wanted to.
She kept driving forward, shoving backward until I crashed against the wall.
Still charging, she drove her shoulder into my chest. I gasped, but before I
could make any other response she jerked the two by four away and stepped
back. It looked like she was considering using it on me but then we each got a
look at the other.

She came up about to my chin, heavy set but not obviously fat. Her shoulders
and hips were wide. With the light behind her, her face was mostly in the
shadows but I could see dark hair down to her shoulders, dark eyebrows, and
heavily mascaraed eyes. As best I could tell her features weren't dramatic in
any way but I wouldn't be able to describe her in detail to anyone - not then
and not later. She was wearing some sort of polyester uniform, the sort
waitresses mostly wear in cheap diners or bars. One short sleeve was ripped
nearly off and I remembered when that happened. Maybe that was what had set
her off in the first place. Thick arms and thick legs like I also remembered.

We stood like that for a moment, then it seemed she smiled in the shadow and
tossed aside the board. "I really beat the shit out of you, didn't I Kevin.
Not what you expected I'll bet." Her voice was soft and throaty, kind of
purring at me. "And you can't even take me using a club."

Kevin. She knew my name. She had my wallet and learned my name. I swallowed
hard and squared my shoulders. "This has gone far enough," I started.

"Bullshit. It's just beginning. I didn't think I'd be able to do it, but I
really beat the shit out of you just like I've been practicing for." She stood
taller and clenched her fists. "I'll bet I could do it anytime I wanted.
Easy."

"Now just a minute. You're already in serious trouble. The sooner you give me
back my things and get out of my way, the better it will be for you. You still
have a chance."

"Did someone send you, or are you working on your own, Kevin? You might as
well tell me. I'll find out quick enough." She took a step toward me and I
stepped back so my back was against the wall again.

"Nobody sent me anywhere. I don't know what you're talking about. I was
driving home and suddenly you attacked me." My voice was rising, my throat
getting tight. Real fear gnawed at my belly as she continued to stare me down.

She looked at her torn sleeve. "I attacked you? Was that how it was supposed
to play out, with the car thing?" She slowly brought her fists up. "You want
to try again?"

Jesus Christ! This crazy woman was actually challenging me! A woman inches
smaller than me, a fucking waitress from some greasy spoon thought I was going
to fight with her! I grabbed her wrists to stop her, telling myself that since
I wasn't being taken by surprise this time I would finally be able to put an
end to this and get out of that basement.

She snapped her arms down, breaking my grip, and slugged me first in the gut
and then in my aching face. Slowly I settled down onto the ground again and
fought back the urge to start crying out of pain and humiliation. She looked
down at me, then abruptly turned and left me alone again. After waiting what
seemed a long time for her next move I gave up and just sat feeling sorry for
myself in the dark. At some point I fell asleep leaning against the cold wall.

Hours later she came in quickly, before I had a chance to get off the floor
where I was lying. I could see it was daylight through the door behind her so
it must be morning. Eight o'clock? Maybe nine? She wore her uniform again,
with the sleeve repaired, and she carried two plastic buckets. One was empty
and the other was full of water. Under her arm was a bag with several slices
of bread, some cheese and fruit. She set her load down next to the door and
gestured for me to stay where I was.

"Good morning. You kept the light on all night? I hope you got some sleep. You
can drink and wash. Use this bucket for a toilet and I'll take care of it, but
please don't mess up the floor. It would start to stink. I'll be back later."
She left just as quickly as she had entered.

When the door opened again it was dark outside. I had eaten the food, pissed
in the toilet bucket a couple of times, and did everything I could to keep
from going crazy trapped in a little cell for hours and hours.

No more uniform. This time it was sweat pants, t-shirt, and running shoes. I
could finally get some look at her face because she moved around the room
after closing the door instead of keeping the light at her back. Just a face
in the shadows, nothing special. No makeup, average nose, average mouth,
neutral colored eyes, brown hair pulled back. The gym clothes looked natural
on her because she was obviously very fit, even muscular with definite biceps
and triceps, no fat anywhere. She carried a cardboard box that she set down
next to the wall.

"Now we have to talk. Are you ready to tell me who you are?" That should have
been my line, but she asked first.

"You know who I am. You went through my wallet so you know I'm Kevin McArthur.
You probably know my address. Now who the hell are you and why are you still
keeping me here?"

"I don't know anything," she said as she reached into the box and pulled out
some clothes. She tossed a pair of jeans at me and one of my t-shirts, plus a
couple pairs of socks and underwear. "I read your name and I do know where
you've been living. But I don't know who you are or why you were stalking me,
or what you're after. Now you're going to tell me."

"You broke into my apartment?" Things kept getting more and more bizarre. "I
guess kidnapping will be the big jail time, but you just keep making things
worse for yourself."

She was pacing back and forth in the little room, never taking her eyes off
me. "I didn't break anything. I used your key. Boring mail yesterday and
today. I know your name, I know where you go to work, but nothing in your
place told me what you want with me. So I'll ask you again to tell me." She
stopped and waited for an answer.

"I don't want a goddam thing from you except for you to let me out of here and
give me back my stuff. Look, you let me out right now and if all my money is
there and nothing is missing from my apartment I promise I won't even go to
the cops. I won't report the robbery or the beating so long as I never see you
again. How about it?" I was lying, of course. I had every intention of seeing
this nutcase locked up for as long as possible. All day I'd been working out
stories to explain how a woman had managed to rough me up so much and drag me
to this basement. My best bet was to be vague about how many others were
involved in attacking me and kidnapping me, so I wouldn't be tripped up by
details of my story.

"I already tried getting the cops interested in you, to stop you from stalking
me and whatever else you've been up to all this time. I know they won't do
anything. That's why I had to get ready to take care of you myself." She
suddenly lunged at me, this time with her hands grabbing for me instead of her
fists crashing into my face.

We grappled and for an instant I thought my troubles were over, that I could
throw her down and make it out the open door. Slowly she started forcing me
backward, and then she started twisting my left arm with her right. A vein
started beating in the middle of her forehead as we struggled, and then one
surfaced in her right arm. Her lips pulled back to show grim teeth and my arm
was twisted the direction she wanted it to go. In a moment she had it bent
painfully behind my back and shoved me roughly against the concrete wall while
she poured on some more pain.

Then she let go and stepped back, daring me to try her again. I came at her
hard and low, nearly catching her off guard so I could tackle her to the
ground. Almost, but she stopped my charge and we matched strength for a second
time as we each tried for a hold. I lost more quickly this time as she forced
me into a headlock that threatened to break my neck.

She let me try a third time with even worse results as I could feel her
muscles swelling with her strength and the results of her efforts. It seemed
that she was getting stronger and stronger the longer I struggled with her.
Her smile turned cruel as she crushed me in a bear hug, as she powered out of
some hold she let me apply and rammed her shoulder into my gut, lifted me to
her full height and threatened to drop me onto the concrete. I begged for
mercy and she let me down. There was nothing I could but lie at her feet
gasping for breath

"God, I can't believe it." She stood over me and sounded giddy in triumph. "I
can't believe that I really can beat you. You're nothing, you're nowhere near
as strong as I am and I was afraid of you all these years!" Her chest rose and
fell as she regained her breath, she looked at her arms bulging from her
efforts and smiled even more broadly. She tossed her hair proudly and walked
out the door, locking it behind her while I tried to regain enough strength to
charge against it.

She came back a couple of hours later, again in the waitress uniform and
dropped a couple blankets on the floor along with another bucket of food. I
was still lying where she had left me in the middle of the floor. With a
glance she determined I wasn't hurt, just humiliated and broken in spirit. She
left again without a word.

The next day, my third as her captive, I decided to go on strike. Rather than
crap in her plastic bucket, I took a dump in the middle of the floor. When she
came in I just stared at her, daring her to make a comment. If she thought she
could keep me caged like an animal, I'd behave like one and make this basement
of hers so disgusting she'd be happy to get rid of me.

I was leaning nonchalantly against the far wall at feeding time. The turd
glistened in the light from the doorway and her mouth dropped open in shock.
"You can't do that!" I grinned a bit wider remembering how I had made a
similar foolish comment the night we met. I could do it, and had, and there
was nothing she could do about it. Or so I thought.

She set down the new buckets and squeaked at me, "You clean that up. Right
now!"

"No way. If you don't like it, let me out of here. Otherwise you're going to
have a hell of a mess underneath your little house." She crossed the room in
three strides and slapped me across the mouth so hard it felt like I'd been
hit with a club. Her flat hand rattled my teeth and then she slapped me just
as hard with her other hand. Her face was red with fury and it looked like she
was on the verge of tears. She had to reach up several inches but she
delivered the third slap before I had recovered enough from the first one to
even put up my arms as protection.

It wasn't a fight. I cowered from her slaps so she grabbed me hard by the back
of my neck and forced me down right onto my own pile of shit. I got it on my
hands before she forced my face into it, and I discovered I wasn't able to
stop her. She had her whole weight bearing down on my neck and back,
preventing me from getting out of her grip or fighting back in any way.

"Please stop! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again. Just don't hurt me!" I was
sobbing in total shame at what she was doing to me. She hadn't seen me crying
before, but now I collapsed in sobs when she let me go.

"Do you understand? You will never do anything like that again. If you do, if
you do anything I don't like, I will make you sorry for the rest of your life.
Tell me you understand!"

I couldn't talk through my tears but nodded. She waited a moment more, looking
at me as I tried wiping the filth off my hands and face with my shirt, and
then she slammed out the door.

She came back a couple of minutes later with the toilet bucket full of soapy
water. "Strip off your clothes and wash them, you stupid bastard. I'll dry
them for you. Then use this brush and you clean that floor so it shines."
Holding out the bucket by one hand made her right biceps flex impressively.
She followed my stare and looked at the muscle herself and smiled with pride.
"God, that is so cool! Scares you, doesn't it Kevin, knowing how strong I am?"
She set down the bucket and stood massaging her upper arms. "Take off the
shirt. Let me see your scrawny body, Kevin."

When I hesitated she tensed her arms and chest and I immediately peeled off
the shirt and undid my pants. I scrubbed them in the bucket and handed them
meekly to her, then got to work on all fours in just my underwear brushing my
shit off the concrete until she nodded her satisfaction. When she picked up
the bucket to leave she curled it up to show off her biceps one more time, and
I found I wasn't able to even look directly at it now.

That set our routine for a while. She brought me food and water twice a day
and changed out the toilet bucket. She didn't talk and I couldn't think of
anything to say either. I hung my head in shame when she came in and she would
just sneer at me, knowing I was too weak and too broken in spirit to try
anything again. When I was alone I didn't even notice the time creeping by,
but sat or paced in a sort of mental fog.

On my eighth day she came dressed in the sweat pants and a tank top. I guessed
it was late morning, a little before the time I figured she went to work. It
was later than she usually brought my first meal and took the toilet bucket
away.

"I need your computer password at work. I need to find out how long you've
been spying on me and if anyone is in it with you. There's nothing about it on
your computer at home so I need to check your work machine."

It seemed like she was getting stronger every day. My first day I thought I
had put up a pretty good fight, made it enough of a contest that I thought I
might get away. After a week I couldn't deny to myself that she was so far
superior to me that it was pointless to try. That didn't mean she ever got
tired of demonstrating it to me and to herself by showing off her big arms.
She was obviously working out hard because I saw real growth over that short
period.

"No way. You didn't find anything because there's nothing to find. I don't
know you, I never stalked you and I sure as hell wouldn't have anything like
that at work." I rallied a little spirit to resist this new demand. "The cops
must be looking for me by now. You can't get away with this, you sick bitch."
My voice sounded hoarse and hysterical.

She shifted her shoulders and admired their rounded mass. Her modest breasts
needed no support from a bra under the snug shirt. "Nobody's looking for you.
They're a little worried about your illness at work, but your progress reports
let them hope they'll see you soon. Maybe they will." She looked up and fixed
me with a hard stare.

She walked over to where I sat on the floor. "Password," she barked.

I kicked hard and was surprised I actually managed to take her legs out from
under her. She hit the floor, but took the impact mostly on her left shoulder.
I was on her before she had recovered and got her rolled onto her back with me
pinning her arms down. Or so I thought. She took two breaths as we lay there,
chest to thickly muscled chest, and then she started lifting her arms. As she
powered her arms up against me she took deep, regular breaths, lifting me on
the inhalation and easing me down when she breathed out, her arms rising
farther from the floor with each breath. Then she started sitting up as she
forced my weight off her chest and that cruel smile came back.

"Brave boy. For a gutless stalker you put up more of a fight than I expected."
With a jerk she heaved me off of her and tossed me onto my back where she
finished reversing my hold. She put her knee in the middle of my chest and
started applying crushing pressure.

"Password."

I struggled for a while longer growing weaker as she slowly crushed my chest
and held my arms useless against the floor. Our faces were inches apart, her
breath hot on my cheek If I could have found a way to surrender and let her
know I accepted her domination, even welcomed it at this moment, I would have.
Her arms bulged with power as she held me there, unable to move. "Please," I
gasped, not knowing what to say next, to beg her to release me or to ask for a
chance to hold her.

Her fierce expression didn't change. "Password," she hissed at me again and
increased the pressure on my chest.

When she got what she had come for she left looking so damn proud of herself
that I couldn't hate her anymore.

She left me alone all the next day. No food, no water, no changing the
stinking bucket. Instead of spending the agonizing hours as I was used to by
then - napping, thinking in circles about how to get out, how I had gotten in,
how to make her pay, how life had led me to this dead end - I thought about
ways to change how she thought of me. I rehearsed a dozen speeches begging her
to forgive me for my stupid stunt with the car a week ago. I wracked my brain
for a way to explain that I had changed. I nearly tore out my hair trying to
come up with anything that would convince her I was not somebody she had ever
needed to be afraid of, and that I was a guy who wanted to be with her in the
light of day and that I could deserve to be more than a filthy captive. The
long day passed with me wishing I had more time to put together the words that
would let me start over with her.

The door opened that night and she came in wearing skin tight shorts and a
bra.

"Grand finale, Kevin." She ran her hand up her solid front and I got an
instant hardon. "I'm as good as some of the pictures you have on your
computer, aren't I? I'm getting stronger, tougher, brave enough to stand up to
you. Have you been stalking them, too? Any of them manage to fight back the
way I did?"

Something about her slow approach was so menacing that I backed away at the
same time I wanted to hold that fabulous body next to me. I couldn't choke out
any of the words I had rehearsed.

When I felt the wall at my back she sprang forward, grabbed my arm and spun me
around. One steel muscled arm went around my neck and the other dropped to
grab my balls. "Never again," she gritted into my ear. "Never again will you
stalk a woman to make her afraid." Her knee crashed between my legs and I
nearly passed out from the exploding pain. She clamped down hard around my
neck and choked off my scream of pain. "I will never be afraid of you or any
man again." She squeezed my balls with sudden crushing force and again choked
off my scream. She slammed me face first against the wall. "If anyone gets
raped again, Kevin, it's going to be you." She kneed me again and I wasn't
even able to even try screaming anymore.

She shifted the position of her arm around my neck and tightened her hold
again. In moments dark spots danced in front of my eyes and I passed out for
real.

I couldn't have been out long, but this time when I came around I had no
recollection of being carried out of the basement, loaded into the back of my
own car and driven away. There was nobody around in the darkness. No cars went
by in the five minutes or so it took me to realize what she had done. All my
things were stacked on the passenger seat and my keys were in the ignition.
After tumbling out and looking frantically around for her so I could finally
say what I had spent the day planning, I gave up and started driving around
trying to figure out where I was and then fumbling my way home.

My week's mail was opened and stacked neatly on the kitchen table. The last
few years of my tax records were stacked beside it, and my credit card bills,
my health records, phone records, and address book. My computer was on and the
password-protected page with all the other passwords I use for bank accounts,
investment accounts and everything else was on the screen. I roamed around a
bit in my hard drive but wasn't surprised that the files with photos of female
body builders had been erased.

She left one phone message the next day at work: "It's a new day, Kevin. Now
you're the one being stalked."