STOCKHOLM

BY RIDER

Sitting in the dark room, Sandy struggled against the ropes that
bound her wrists and ankles. With a gag in her mouth and her
hands tied behind her, she made little progress, but she was a
determined little girl. She could feel liquid running down the
fingers of her right hand and figured she may have rubbed herself
so raw that she had begun to bleed, but that didn't stop her.
Perhaps the fear of another encounter with the nameless man that
put her here gave her inspiration.

The only thing that could make her cry was thinking about the way
things used to be. She missed her mother and father. She missed
the sunshine and her friends. She missed good food. When her
thoughts strayed to these things, she would cry.

The bare floor was cold on her butt and wet from her own urine.
Although there was a corner she used to defecate and urinate, the
room was small and the urine flowed all over the floor. The
stench was getting unbearable as the urine degraded into ammonia
and the quantity of feces had grown. Naked, except for the ropes
and gag, she tried sleeping in a sitting position so that she
would not have to lie in the stench. She finally found that if
she leaned into a corner, she could rest for a while. Everything
was dark and quiet.

Suddenly, a bright light shown from across the room as the door
opened. It was so bright she could not even tell if there was
someone standing in the doorway. She knew he was there, though.
It was always him.

There was no movement or sound for a while. Then footsteps
clicked across the cement floor and she felt a hand on her leg.
The ties around her ankles soon loosened and the rope was
removed. Nothing was said. The hand gently grabbed her arm and
pulled insistently and she struggled to her feet. Her hair, once
beautiful, was a scraggly mess that smelled of urine and hung
down in her face obscuring her vision.

Stumbling towards the light, she thought it actually felt warm,
but it wasn't sunshine. She was led from her stagnant cubicle
through another room into still another. Her eyes slowly adjusted
to the light and she could identify bathroom fixtures. She was
not angry now; just dazed, confused and fearful.

She felt the hands untying the gag and removing it, but she did
not scream for fear of what he might do. Besides, she was fairly
sure no one would hear. As she stood with her hands bound, naked
and trembling with cold and fear, she watched as he filled the
bathtub with water and tested the temperature with his hand. As
he was bent over the tub, she contemplated possible actions. She
could kick him, perhaps forcing his head into the wall and
knocking him out. Glancing at the door, she also though about
running.

The man stood and she turned her head, but she noticed that he
was also looking at the door. And then he looked her in the eyes.
She looked away at nothing in particular, the tile, the floor,
the grout, expecting that he would walk over to the door and
close it, or hit her if he figured out what she was thinking.

Nothing happened. She did not return his gaze even after it was
apparent that he would not do anything, but kept her eyes almost
motionless to cover her thoughts. Her plans had not been
completely blocked, but she lacked opportunity at the moment. But
when the moment was right...

She felt his hand on her shoulder and pulled away towards the
tub, now almost full. His hands continued to urge her from behind
and she decided to go along and get into the tub.

A delicate soapy odor permeated the room and she noticed that he
had added bubble bath to the water. What a curious thing! Bubble
bath! She was pleased and angered at the same time. After keeping
her locked in that nasty room, he had the audacity to try and
make this bath "special." But, oh how she loved bubble baths! She
wanted to kick him some place special to thank him.

After she had stepped into the tub, he untied her wrists. She
brought her hands to her front and felt the unnatural pull on her
shoulders from having been behind her for so long. Blood was
caked onto her fingers on the right hand and the wrist bore
abrasions that were raw and tender.

She slowly began to sit in the bath and felt the bubbles tickle
her hairless pussy and the backs of her thighs before she felt
the warm soothing water. She decided to lean back and hide her
naked body under the bubbles, but the water stung her wrist so
much that she cried out briefly. She held her wrist for a moment
and swallowed her tears before she again lowered herself into the
water. This time, the water stung, but she put the pain out of
her mind and submerged her body as much as she could. Her legs
were too long for the small tub and her knees stuck out above the
water. She moved some of the bubbles to cover her knees, wanting
to become invisible.

She cringed as he approached the tub with a washcloth. Although
it was likely he was going to wash her, she dreaded his touch and
closed her eyes to avoid seeing what he would do. She felt the
water move as he moistened the cloth and then the cloth touched
her shoulder. As the cloth gently rubbed her skin, she resigned
herself to being washed and did not make any move to resist. She
lay there as he washed her shoulders and arms. His hand behind
her neck prompted her to sit up and he then washed her back. The
motion of the cloth, the warm water and the gentle sounds of
dripping and splashing water relaxed her despite her intent and
she fought to keep alert so that she could find an opportunity to
escape. She soon realized, however, that escape would have to
wait for a while, and she was so tired from her lack of sleep
that she allowed her captor to wash her quite passively.

She closed her eyes as the man washed her face and kept them
closed. She gave no resistance as he lifted her injured wrist
from the water and patted it with the washcloth.

Her brow wrinkled when the washcloth disappeared beneath the
water and began to rub her stomach, but she gave no other outward
sign of displeasure. Her expression did not change as the
washcloth passed between her legs and gently rubbed her hairless
labia and around her anus. Mentally, she had divorced the
washcloth from the hand. At least, she thought, it was not his
hands touching her. It was the washcloth that caressed her legs,
not his hands.

His hands did touch her head as he applied shampoo and scrubbed
the strands of scraggly hair, but that did not evoke any new
disgust. In fact, she was glad to finally get the grunge out of
her hair.

After rinsing her hair, she again felt his hand on her arm
imploring her to stand with which she complied. A clean dry towel
was wrapped around her shoulders and she grasped the front and
held it to cover her nakedness. She stood perfectly still as she
felt his hands through the towel patting her dry.

She was led through the door into a hallway and then into a large
room. A large bed occupied the center covered only with sheets.
The rest of the furnishings were unremarkable: a nightstand, a
lamp, a chair or two, and the floor was covered with blue
carpeting. There was another open door besides the entrance that
led to another smaller bathroom and, most notably, there was a
window. Curtains covered the window and there was no way to see
outside, but she could tell it was night. That was the only way
to tell the time since there were no clocks, no television, no
radio, and no telephone.

She gave a little resistance when he removed her towel, but
finally stood there and covered her privates with her hands. He
gestured towards the bed and she slowly moved and sat down on the
clean sheets. It was the softest thing she had sat on in what
seemed like a very long time.

"Lie down," he ordered. It was the first time she had heard his
voice. It was not gruff, as she expected, but normal. Just like
anyone else's. She sighed and lay on her back with her knees bent
and her hands still covering her privates. He closed the door and
walked to the dresser where he removed some cloth and returned to
the bed. He took her left arm and tied the cloth around her wrist
and then to the metal bedpost. With her right wrist, he first
wrapped the wrist with a soft cloth before tying that one to the
other bedpost. She struggled briefly when he grasped her right
ankle, but then gave way to avoid arousing his ire. After tying
it to the lower bedpost, he took the final piece of cloth and
walked around to the other side of the bed. She didn't even
resist when he grabbed her left ankle and straightened the leg
out before securing it with the cloth.

For what seemed like a very long time, he stood by the bed and
stared. She bent her neck and looked down, wondering what he was
staring at. She had a flat chest without even a hint of tittie
like a woman has. Her pussy was completely hairless and smooth
and she knew that women had hair on their pussies. So what was
there to look at?

As he turned and walked to the door, she finally got the courage
to speak.

"Hey, mister! What if I need to pee?"

He turned around and replied, "Just yell," before he continued
out the door leaving the light on.

Her brief thoughts of screaming for help were dashed by this new
instruction. Evidently, there was no one around besides him to
hear her, so there was little point in attempting to attract
attention. The last attention she wanted at the moment was his.

As the door closed, she was alone again. Reflecting on her new
circumstances, she decided that they were definitely better than
before. She was clean and dry, relatively warm, and lying on a
soft bed. The ties were cloth instead of rope and she was not
gagged. She wanted to turn over, but the ties prevented her from
moving so she lay there and closed her eyes. As she drifted off
to sleep, she remembered she had not eaten in at least a day.

The aroma of fried bacon, toast and eggs wafted through the room
and she thought she was still dreaming. As she opened her eyes,
however, the man was setting a tray on the bed. It was covered
with breakfast food in separate plates and there was orange juice
in a plastic cup. As she stared at the tray, he untied her hands.
The man moved to the foot of the bed and sat in a chair, leaving
her with her arms free and a tray full of food within her reach.

Although she was hungry, she hesitated. Was this a trick? Was the
food poisoned? As she eyed the food and then the man, she decided
that it didn't matter. Besides, why go to all this trouble to
kill her now when he could have done it easily last night or any
time before?

Despite her ravenous appetite, she made a pretense of being calm
and collected as she picked a piece of bacon and put in into her
mouth. Followed by buttered toast, and eggs and more bacon,
rinsing it down with orange juice. Soon, she gave up the pretense
and began voraciously chowing down. She made no effort to conceal
her exposed cunt, despite the fact that he was clearly positioned
for the optimal view, but ate like she had never eaten before.

The portions were generous, but there was no food remaining when
she finished. Her hunger satisfied, she leaned back on her elbows
and returned the man's stare. Feeling somewhat emboldened with a
full stomach, she decided to engage the man in conversation.

"What now?" she asked, slightly concerned that he might actually
tell her. After a brief hesitation, the man answered, "Put your
hand between your legs." She saw no problem with covering herself
and moved her hand quickly and placing it over her pussy.

"Now rub yourself," he commanded.

She failed to see the point in this request, but decided to obey.
She moved her hand slightly up and down and kept it placed where
it would continue to cover her pussy. She kept up a steady motion
as he watched for several minutes and, although it was
pleasurable, it was not exceptionally so.

She thought to herself, "So this is what you have to do for
breakfast around here." He finally arose and moved to replace the
ties on her wrists. As he took her left wrist, she asked, "Can I
go to the bathroom now?"

After removing the empty tray, he released her wrist and untied
her ankles before stepping back to let her get up. She slowly sat
up on the side of the side of the bed, still warm from the tray,
and then walked to the bathroom. She no longer used her hands to
cover herself, recognizing the futility of such a gesture.

Upon entering the bathroom, she closed the door and felt a sudden
rush of excitement. A chance to escape? There was no lock on the
door and no window. The ventilation was too small for her to fit
through and too high to reach in any case. There was only a
toilet and a sink with no medicine cabinet or closet.

Sighing at the unfortunate conclusion, she sat on the toilet and
both urinated and defecated. There was toilet paper which was a
welcome sight. She washed her hands and took one final look
around for anything that could be used to help with an escape.
She inspected the workings of the toilet for sharp objects and
scrutinized the plumbing, but she finally reconciled herself to
the fact that there was little of any use.

Fighting the desire to just stay in the bathroom, she finally
opened the door. The man was nowhere to be seen and the bedroom
door was closed. She was alone! And untied! She felt almost free
as she walked over to the window, lit with daylight, and pulled
back the curtains. The bars on the other side reminded her of her
prisoner status, but the view onto a pasture was a delight.
Except that there was no evidence of humanity anywhere to be
seen.

She spent most of the rest of the day exploring her new space,
but finally tired and lay back down on the bed. She got under the
thin covers and curled up in a ball. Even without a pillow, this
was paradise. As she fell asleep, she dreamed of walking in the
pasture barefooted and naked.

It was evening when the man returned, again carrying a tray of
food. Again, there were no utensils, but the food was delicious
and missing lunch had made her quite hungry even while she slept.
When she had finished, he came and moved the tray. Returning to
his seat at the end of the bed, he sat still for a moment. The
silence was frustrating, so she again asked, "What now?"

With less hesitation, he instructed her to lie down. She lay on
the bed with her legs together and looked at the ceiling.

"Raise your knees," he ordered. She did as he said, keeping her
knees together.

"Now separate your knees."

Having been naked and totally exposed before, but being untied
and well fed now, she decided to follow his instructions. There
was little to lose since he could just as easily tie her in
whatever position he wished and she was hoping to keep the small
degree of freedom that she had.

For several moments, she lay with her hands beside her and her
knees up with legs spread wide. She could see no point in not
explicitly following his instructions.

Exposed is exposed, so why not give him what he obviously wants?
She was not clear why, but she did know that he was intent on
viewing her preteen pussy and she thought cooperation might lead
to better things than resistance, at least for the time being.

"Put your hands between your legs and pull the lips apart," came
the order.

For a moment, she hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't
understand, she was contemplating disobedience. Could she deny
him the pleasure of seeing her innermost private recesses?

His glance towards the dresser immediately shocked her back into
reality. There was no denying this man who could just as easily
remove the freedoms that he had granted. To avoid being tied, she
immediately pulled her cunt lips apart as far as they would go
and, to emphasize her compliance, lifted her hips.

When she was sure that her compliance had averted being
restrained, she slowly let her hips return to the bed. She
watched him for a while, but her neck got tired and she rested it
on the pillow and looked at the ceiling as she kept up the
uncomfortable traction on her cunt lips. Minutes went by, but he
just sat there, staring. It was as though she were a photograph,
placed in this way for his amusement. She felt like saying, "Take
a picture. It will last longer," but she kept her silence,
fearing that he might demand more liberties if she were insolent.

That evening began with a repeat of the earlier bizarre request
and she snapped her legs apart and pulled her lips apart almost
before he had finished making his request. There was something
new this time.

First, he made an additional demand. "Put a finger into your
cunt."

The word "cunt" was one she had heard, but it had vulgar
connotations. Still, she wasn't about to quibble with his
vocabulary under the circumstances, so she put her right index
finger and the entrance to her pussy and slowly pushed it in.

"Move it in and out."

She began to move her finger in and out and watched her hand move
between her thighs as she kept an eye on him. She became briefly
frightened when she saw him undo his pants and pull out his
penis, but he remained seated, massaging his cock and that seemed
harmless enough. It was now obvious that he derived sexual
pleasure from watching her. She assumed that had been the real
reason for her imprisonment from the start.

In spite of the discomfort of keeping her head elevated, she
watched intently as he held his cock in one hand and rubbed it
with his other fist. She had seen a penis before, but it had not
been erect, nor nearly as large as this one. Despite herself, she
felt twinges of pleasure from the friction of her finger, but she
dismissed them as she kept her attention focused on her captor.

He soon ejaculated as she watched in fascination. Once again, she
had heard of this, but only in the clinical drone of her sex
education teacher. She had never seen anyone enjoy such intense
pleasure as he appeared to be experiencing.

He stood, still holding his cum covered cock, and approached the
foot of the bed. She almost panicked. Removing her hands from
between her legs, she put them at her sides preparing to flee.
His movements were slow, however, and she lay still.

He took some cum from his cock by scooping it onto his finger.
Slowly and deliberately, he wiped his finger on her hairless cunt
lips and the slit between. As he turned to walk back to his
chair, he zipped and fastened his pants, wiping his hands on his
thighs.

She wasn't sure what he had in mind, so she just lay there. She
could see some of the cum on her pubis as she looked between her
still spread legs at the man. A short time later, he rose and
left through the door.

She returned her attention to the while liquid on her pubis. She
was both disgusted and curious as she gingerly touched it with
her finger. It was slippery and gooey; not at all like she had
pictured from the descriptions she got in sex ed. She lifted her
finger to her nose and smelled. Wrinkling her nose, she decided
that she did not like the smell and quickly wiped it on the
sheets. Feeling her pussy, it was evident there was still a lot
remaining and she rose and went to the bathroom where she used
toilet paper to wipe off the rest.

Sensing that his actions might become even more aggressive
sexually, she again determined to escape. Looking around her now
familiar surroundings, a plan took shape. She decided to hide
behind the door, which opened inward, and leave some clue that
she was in the bathroom. When he walked into the room after
opening the door, she would quickly dash through the door to
freedom. She would only have a short time before he knew she was
gone, but long enough to reach the outside if she could find her
way through the halls to an exit. She remembered every detail of
what the hall outside looked like, and that gave her some
advantage though not a precise guide.

There was no way to predict the exact time of the morning he
would return, so after her preparations were made, she stood
where she would be hidden by the opening door for so long that
her legs began to ache. When she heard the handle jiggle, her
heart began to race. She could hardly breath and didn't want to
make noise anyway, so she flattened herself against the wall and
waited.

When the door opened, she knew the man would see the empty bed.
She also knew he would be carrying a tray of food that he would
need to set down before he did anything else. No matter where he
went to set the food down, the door would remain open and his
back would be towards her and the door. That would be the time to
move quickly and quietly into the hall.

The door opened, and there was no immediate indication of
movement. She could not hear him move or see his shadow, so she
continued to listen quietly, scarcely breathing. Was he waiting
for her to exit the closed bathroom door?

Suddenly, his face appeared and she didn't know what to do. Her
plans had been dashed and it appeared that he had already
anticipated this ploy. She backed up along the wall, but he
didn't move. He just stood there holding the breakfast tray and,
as his eyes followed her, she could see disappointment and anger
in his expression. When she was a few feet away, she walked
quickly to the bed and lay down with her legs straight and her
arms by her sides. Although looking straight up, she saw him move
out of the corner of her eye to the dresser and she began to sob.

She put up no resistance as he placed the ties around her wrists
and ankles and secured her to the four corners of the bed.
Although she had closed her eyes, tears continued to flow down
her temples and into her ears.

She did not hear him leave, but after the door had shut, she
looked up. There was no tray of food and, even if there were, she
couldn't get to it. She cried for her failure, her hunger, her
lost freedom, and - just because. She sobbed quietly for a while
longer before boredom took over and she slept.