"The Reluctant Kidnapper"

[Lustful_Male]

"The Reluctant Kidnapper"​

(OOC -- This RP is actually being written in email, not in this thread. Occasionally, I will, however, edit the emails and post them here in a block. You are more than welcome to read them.)

Note: This isn't done and has an error in it, but it's too late at night and I can't keep my eyes open long enough to find which of the posts I have neglected to transfer. If you are interested in reading this, subscribe to it and when I get it all posted, I will post an update telling you it's finished. If you have instant notification and are subscribed to this, you'll know immediately. Thanks.


POV: Adelaide

The Honors Society social gatherings were usually the height of boredom, or so she'd assumed – she'd gone to the ice cream social with the Professors during her school's orientation during freshman year, and hadn't darkened the doorway of their little log cabin since. But her dad didn't ask for much, so when he called and explained that a couple potential investors had kids coming into the Honors Society he wanted her to charm, she couldn't really refuse. So she'd pulled on the little green dress she'd bought on a shopping expedition with her mother and hadn't worn since – too conservative for clubs, too nice for the house parties her theatre department preferred – pulled her little silver car out of the parking garage for the second time that semester, and picked up the pair, an awkward chubby Freshman boy named Nathaniel and a pretty blonde girl named Grace.

To her surprise, they hit it off instantly, and a blushing grace tapped her shoulder half an hour in to let her know they were finding their own way home. And shockingly, the night was actually pretty fun. It wasn't the wild and crazy times she was used to, but there were people she didn't see there often, and not one single guy tried to sing Guys and Dolls when she introduced herself. She even let herself give our her number a couple of times, to Chemistry and Psych majors with pretty eyes and a nice smile, respectively. She was having so much fun talking and meeting people outside her little insular department that she didn't even make it to the bar until the event was half over, and a floppy-haired guy handed her a fruity cup of punch.

And then...she lost it. Adelaide frowned. She wasn't at the party anymore, she was laying down on a tile floor, which was a common enough end to a party night, but when did she get home? She hadn't been drinking, not enough to...she opened her eyes with a gasp. Not tile. Concrete. She blinked, shaking her head to try to clear it. It was all cobwebby. She ran through her mental checklist – clothes were still on, underwear was still on, her freaking heels were still on. She tried to push herself to a seated position.

“What in the hell?!” Her mind cleared almost instantly as she perceived her situation fully. She couldn't push up because the hands she'd thought she was just laying on awkwardly were cuffed behind her, around a pole cemented into the floor. She pulled her legs around to manoeuvre into a seated position...and froze. Someone else was in the room.

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POV: Jacob

Jacob was sitting in a rickety old rocking chair that looked like it had been made in the 60s -- the 1860s -- leaning forward casually with his elbows on his knees ... staring at the young woman ... as he had been ... for going on six ... frickin' ... hours! The ingenious plan he'd been conned into being part of had begun going awry within the first hour of having been put into motion.

First, the party girl, little Miss Adelaide Chesterfield, had waited ... what, an hour...? maybe two or three...? ... before she'd ever even made her way toward the open bar, let alone ordered a drink. Jacob had been lucky that when she finally did make her way there, the only open spot was next to him, and -- when he'd offered her a drink, which any woman in this day and age of date rape drugs knew you never took from a stranger -- she hadn't hesitated in the least, lifting the little glass with a bit of a cheers! gesture and downing it without a care.

The second problem was, of course, the pill he'd been given to slip the woman. It was supposed to have made her a bit loopy, just enough for him to be able to coax her out of the event without her suspecting that just maybe this guy wasn't the nice guy that he was trying to make himself seem. No, loopy didn't happen; instead, she'd become almost instantly wild and crazy, insisting that they dance -- despite the fact that there was no dance floor -- and when she realized they couldn't do that, she'd started talking about skinny dipping in the University's main fountain. He'd managed to stop her from stripping out of that amazing little green dress just in time to have her pass out in him arms.

He'd had to throw her over his shoulder, telling a passing couple that she just couldn't hold her drink as he hurried toward the stolen car hidden out back. It had seemed that he'd gotten away clean ... until, as he slowly drove off the campus, the night lit up with red and blue lights that, thankfully, were rushing around every where except near him.

He'd finally gotten her to the safe house half way across town ... only to learn that the medical marijuana dispensary upstairs had been raided. More purdy red and blue lights, wonderful.

So, here he was, in the basement of his own house, with the daughter of a Fortune 500 billionaire cuffed to a water pipe.

And if that wasn't bad enough ... she was a fucking red head! Jacob had a weakness for redheads ... always did, always would. His first kiss, first fondle, first fuck, and first wife -- well, only wife, for exactly 33 days -- had all been redheads.

“What in the hell?!” she said, searching about and, finally, set her eyes upon his form.

He was sitting with the basement's only light -- a free hanging, uncovered, 100 watt bulb -- behind and above him, casting a harsh light upon her and silhouetting him; he knew she couldn't identify him like this, but he was still nervous about being this close to his kidnapping victim.

"Hello, Miss Chesterfield," he said, trying to speak with a low, soft tone that might keep her from identifying him by his voice later. "Don't be alarmed. No harm will come to you if you just do as you're told."

He felt stupid. He sounded like one of those cheesy movie characters who always got killed at the end of a B-rated murder mystery. But he wasn't supposed to have had to talk to her at all, so ... he was winging it.

"You can call me Jacob," he continued, flashing a smile that he suddenly remembered she couldn't see. "May I call you Adelaide...?"

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POV: Adelaide

Adelaide squinted into the subpar light offered by the bulb, which was quickly bringing her attention to a killer headache. Whether she was just now noticing it or the light was causing it was impossible to tell, but also a moot issue; the fact that her head was now clear enough to hurt was a good thing. She instinctively wanted to reach and make sure there wasn't any actual damage, and huffed as she was quickly reminded of the handcuffs that prevented her from doing so. She made herself take deep, slow breaths - if she could keep herself from getting riled up physically, she could stay in control emotionally.

But as soon as a male voice came from the darkness, her heart rate shot up. She couldn't help it, any more than she could help the feeling that was exactly like ice water pouring down her spine, pure and unadulterated terror and adrenaline. She'd been to more trainings and stranger danger sessions than she cared to think about - private school students, especially those as wealthy as her family, made easy targets, petite women made easy targets, and being a lady that tended to be walking home alone at night with Sophies thrown over her leotard gave her the trifecta of vulnerability. The only advice coming to mind, though, was unhelpful - they always said never to let your attacker move you, because once you left the scene, anything he was going to do was going to get a whole lot worse. But what did you do when you didn't have a chance to fight? What did you do when you were handcuffed in a basement in your new dress...and then it hit her. She was still clothed. She was untouched. And maybe that was because he wanted her conscious for whatever he was planning...but maybe it was because something else was going on here.

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, drew in another as he spoke. She would be calm. She wouldn't let her voice shake.

"I have a few things to call you," she said coolly, hoping he wouldn't notice the tremor she felt, "But I don't suppose I'm in any position to object to proper names. Apparently we're already well aquainted - I don't usually get the handcuffs out until at least the fourth date." She winced on the inside - date?! Why did she say that?! If he wasn't thinking sex already, she sure didn't want to give him the idea. She flicked her head to get a stray hair out of her face, and immediately regretted the motion. That time she did wince.

"What did you do to me, Jacob?"

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POV: Jacob

He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or worried that Adelaide had recalled his name after hearing it just once under this level of stress and duress. The name of their kidnappers wasn't usually something the 'kidnappees' remembered ...or so he thought from his life time of television crime drama viewing.

Actually taking a hostage...? This was all new to him, and definitely NOT something he was comfortable with, let alone GOOD at.

"I, uh ...put something in your fruit punch," he said, knowing that she would have had to be an idiot not to have already figured that out. He was about to tell her that he hadn't wanted to do this, that this wasn't his idea in the least, that he was only doing to HER family what he needed to do to protect HIS family; but he didn't, knowing that he needed to maintain a position of power and dominance over Adelaide.

'Power and dominance' he thought to himself. 'Yeah ...from a guy who's last girl friend called him a puss and then began sleeping with his roommate, who she had already known was brutal to women and, after six months and two trips to the emergency room, was still with the guy 'cause he was a real man', she'd told Jacob.

"Addie ...do as you're told ... As I tell you ...and no harm will come to you. That's a promise! This isn't about you. We want something ...NEED something from your father ...and ...well, this is the only way we can find to get it. I'm sorry ...really, I am ...but this is the way it's going to be. You do as you're told, and you go home, unharmed--" His eyes dropped to the flesh exposed below her hem line by her awkward and uncomfortable looking posture. He added, "...and 'unviolated'."

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POV: Adelaide

Adelaide blinked into the light, trying hard to see into the face of the silhouetted figure, but it wasn't happening. She remembered the guy she'd taken the punch from, vaguely - there was little more than an impression of floppy hair and dark eyes - but he hadn't struck her as particularly dangerous. If it was the same guy, she'd feel a little better. Of course, she added to herself, didn't every serial killer have a slew of neighbours who'd swear up and down he was the nicest guy in the world? She tried to pull subtly at the cuffs behind her back, but they weren't going anywhere; she had small wrists, but they were ratcheted on firmly, probably a notch or two beyond what was really necessary to keep her there. But did that mean he didn't do this kind of thing often, or just that he liked hurting people? She gave herself a mental shake. Overthinking wouldn't help. Being alert, feeling out the situation, and remembering it all to tell the police if she got out would.

"Don't call me Addie," she snapped reflexively. Nobody called her that; even as a child, her mother had scolded anyone who wanted to shorten her name. She knew immediately that taking that tone with someone when she was at such a disadvantage, but she didn't apologise, just lifted her chin a fraction and kept trying to see him in the shadows, listening to his words. Her father. Of course - why hadn't she thought of that? He mentioned that he wouldn't violate her if she did as she was told, and rage and fear vied for top position in her mental booking. Her dress was riding up, and she folded her legs modestly under her as she gave her best incredulous look to the man-shaped spot in the dark.

"So, what, if I don't do what you say you'll rape me?" Her voice was louder than she'd intended, but it didn't matter. "This is about my father. I guaran-fucking-tee you that if you touch me, he'll have you killed. And whether I'm in one piece or not, you'll be just as dead." She meant it. It wasn't part of her dad she thought of often, but she knew he wasn't above getting his hands dirty for a good cause - a man that had kept propositioning her mom in their last town found his house burned down one morning. She tossed her hair out of her eyes again, wishing absently for a hairbrush, and squared her jaw, thinking, plotting. It was a slim chance, but if she didn't try and didn't find a chance later she'd always wonder...she took a deep breath, using her diaphram, and shouted at the top of her lungs.

"HELP! IN THE BASEMENT! I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED! HELP!"

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POV: Jacob

Jacob flinched at her scream, sitting taller in the chair. His first instinct was to tell her to be quiet, but he didn't; no one was going to hear her here, in the basement of his parent's home, half a mile from the nearest house. His second instinct was to TELL her why he wasn't stopping her, but he didn't do that either; no need to tell her anything about her current situation he figured.

When she finally went quiet, he politely asked, "Hungry...?"

He didn't wait for her answer, instead standing and heading toward the stairs beyond the light bulb. As he mounted the creaky old steps, he asked, "You're not a vegetarian or anything like that, are you?"

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POV: Adelaide

She braced for some kind of recrimination after sceaming enough that she figured anyone who was around to hear her already had, but none came. That gave her some information - either the room was soundproofed, or there wasn't anyone who was close enough to hear. She was betting, judging from the water rushing through the pipe she was cuffed to, that this wasn't the kind of operation to have soundproofed rooms. Which meant she could be anywhere - maybe even too far out to reasonably be able to get herself to safety if she managed to escape. She'd need to get ahold of a phone or something before leaving if she had the chance.

She flinched back involuntarily when he stood, but he walked away from her instead of towards her. He asked if she was hungry, and she paused to think. On the one hand...yes. She'd barely nibbled at the hors d'oeuvres at the event last night, and the vague nausea she was assuming was the result of whatever he'd given her would probably be helped by food, and she was incredibly thirsty. On the other, she didn't trust him not to slip her something else; she was more or less under his control already, but there were worse ways to wake up, and she wanted to be conscious for whatever happened. She picked the lesser of the evils.

"Some, more thirsty than anything, but I'm afraid I'm not comfortable eating or drinking anything that isn't sealed. And I'm a bit lactose intolerant."

She shifted to try to watch him go, and the change in position brought her attention to her bladder.

"So what happens when I need to use the bathroom?" She called after him.

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POV: Jacob

Her comment about not trusting him bringing her an opened drink hurt him a bit. Then he reminded himself of how he'd gotten her here in the first place.

As he ascended the stairs, though, he couldn't help but answer her last question with a line he'd heard a while back in a comical kidnapping movie. "I'll get you a bucket."

He managed to suppress the laugh working its way out until he was upstairs and out of ear shot. But, he realized, he WAS going to have to deal with that issue at some point.

(OOC -- he will be upstairs for 5 minutes. She can't escape, but she try if she wants. Feel free to use your imagination on the basement's contents if you'd like. I don't know if I can reply again until after work.)

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POV: Adelaide

Adelaide all but hissed at his response. Was he serious?! And which hands was she supposed to use to make that bucket work, exactly? She wasn't kidding, she needed to pee.

She waited a few moments, straining to hear his footsteps, and heard someone walking upstairs. Now was going to be as good a time as any to see what she could do. She tucked her feet under her, awkwardly grabbed the pipe with her hands, and shimmied into a standing position. So far, so good - she could reach the back of her skirt to pull it down a bit. She stretched as much as she could, then walked around the pole, straining to see into the darkness. The floor was bare as much as she could tell, but the light lit such a specific section of the room, it was impossible to even guess an accurate size.

Just then, she had an idea. She bent her leg up and worked with her hands to unbuckle her shoe, then kicked it towards the lightbulb. It went wide, and there was a crash; a roll of duct tape and red spray paint rolled into view. She tried again with the other shoe, and this time was more successful, hitting the pullcord and sending the bulb swinging enough to see a black metal rack against one wall with paints, rollers, and a tool kit on it - basic basement stuff - and an old wooden chair with an embroidered cushion that looked straight out of Little House on the Prarie. There was a window high up on the wall, though, which could be an option - dim light shone through it. What time was it? She sighed as the bulb stopped moving, returning her to her little island of light. She was more sure than ever that this wasn't where people were normally held, but that wasn't entirely helpful.

What could she do? She sighed. Handcuffs weren't coming off without a key, but could she at least get a little more range of motion if she could somehow step through her arms and get them in front of her, maybe enough to get the spray paint and hit him in the eyes? Would her arms even bend that way? She bent to see...and her cellphone fell from her bra. Of course! She always tucked it there when she went out - why hadn't she thought of that? She opened it with her foot, dialed 911, and knelt back down to talk in the reciever...and almost cried. "No signal," the screen chirped cheerfully. She used her foot to slide the phone against the pole and sat on it as she heard steps walking back across the floor above her - maybe it was one of those flukish things, and there'd be a signal later.

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POV: Jacob

Jacob heard what could only be described as a 'crash' and immediately assumed it was Adelaide trying to get herself free ...or possibly succeeding! But then he saw his mother's Persian hop up onto the plant shelf outside the kitchen window and knew -- incorrectly, of course -- that it had only been The Shah.

He finished putting together a tray full of food and returned to the basement door ...then hesitated. What if the noise hadn't been The Shah? He was usually such a quiet creature, slinking about and somehow ending up between Jacob's feet every time he had his hands full of something. He was certain that Adelaide couldn't escape the cuffs; or, at least, he was fairly sure. But what if...?

He set the tray on the kitchen table and left the house, circling around to the basement window. Carefully, he peeked inside, locating Adelaide ...standing, but thankfully still at the pole, hands behind her back.

He returned to retrieve the tray, opened the door, and descended. By the time he reached the basement floor, she was sitting again; she had an odd expression on her face -- a suspicious expression -- but why shouldn't she, he wondered; she was probably running all sorts of scenarios through her mind.

"I brought you a little bit of everything in the kitchen," he explained. "There's meat stuff and vegie things, too ...and some crackers and cookies and ...well, like I said ...about everything."

He looked at her -- hands behind her back, now staring at him with an expectant expression -- and knew what was going through her head.

"Guess I have to take the cuffs off, don't I?" He said reluctantly.

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POV: Adelaide

Adelaide heard him coming down the stairs, and situated herself to make sure the phone was out of sight. By the time he got close enough for her to make his shape out clearly again, she was trying to arrange her expression into something apropriate. He drew closer as he spoke, enough for her to see the tray of food in his hands. Part of her couldn't help but be charmed by him. The more she saw and heard, the more she was sure this wasn't his usual gig. Maybe she could even talk him out of it, into letting her go - she could offer to talk to her dad. But first, she'd make a peace offering and eat his food. She stared at him expectantly - surely he wasn't planning on feeding her?

He questioned taking the cuffs off, and she shrugged, letting herself smile. Just be nice, she told herself.
"That would probably be easiest. You're not really going to make me use the bathroom in a bucket, are you? I really need to go. Please." Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, hoping against hope that he'd take her, and she'd find some way to slip the phone in there with her.

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POV: Jacob

Adelaide blinked rapidly as the lights came on, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. She looked around - there was clutter at the edges of the room, but nothing helpful to her. The guy turned around, and she was unsurprised to see the man from the event. She felt herself relax immediately at the sight of him, his smile and soft voice - he radiated harmlessness. Of course, she reminded herself, that's what he'd want her to think. But she hadn't roofied herself and locked herself in a basement. She raised an eyebrow.

"Hi. Can you please uncuff me? These are really tight." Bossy hadn't worked, the puppy eyes hadn't worked - yet - she figured she might as well just try being assertive. Tactics, those were the key.