Thief In the Night
Most people shudder at the idea of being kidnapped. The thoughts of being taken, against their will, and potentially never seeing their loved ones again, is understandably, and justifiably, terrifying. And yet, since I was very young, I've found the idea to give me a certain thrill. One I could never explain, and one I quickly learned to keep to myself.
When I grew into an adult and became a mother, I was terrified of the thought of someone ever kidnapping my son, but still secretly found the idea of being kidnapped becoming a fantasy of mine. Slowly, I started to try to find similar-minded individuals that I could try to make sense of it all with, which is how I came across Sam.
Sam happened across some short erotic stories I had posted in the hopes of getting some positive feedback, some time ago. He enjoyed them so much, that he decided to send me a message on the site to praise me and get to know me. I appreciated the attention, and soon we were messaging nearly every day. Before long, I began confiding in him, and even beginning to admit to some of my own fantasies, and inspirations for my stories to him. That's how I finally shared my secret of enjoying the idea of being kidnapped. I fully expected him to lose interest in me, but it just seemed to pique his interest even more.
Before long, he became the inspiration for my fantasies. And I started writing nearly constantly. Until the night, everything changed for us. I had just put my son to bed for the night and was changing into my pajamas when I heard something picking at my window. I brushed it off as some of the local wildlife and climbed into bed. After all, I lived on a farm in the woods. Quickly, I drifted off to sleep. I awoke to a muffled crash that sounded like it was in my room. I sat up, and looked around, trying to reach for my light switch.
Before I found it, someone grabbed my hand, at the same time as their other hand clapped over my mouth. A low gruff voice rumbled against my ear.
"Shhh. It'd be better for both of us if you didn't make a sound." As his words hit me, I realized the only one who would hear me, would be my 4-year-old son, and I didn't want him exposed to such a trauma. "Now, go get your boy dressed in something warm, and don't bother trying to call for help. I've got your cellphone, and your landline is disconnected."
I tried to keep my calm as I walked into my son's room and gently roused him. The tired boy awoke just enough to let me put his warm coat on him, and fall back asleep on my shoulder once I had picked him up. The intruder, covered in camo and a dark mask then led me outside of my home, put my son into a car seat that was in the backseat of his truck, and buckled him in. Then he motioned for me to get in on the passenger side of the backseat. Once in, I realized there were no handles on the inside of the doors, and the panic started to set in, causing me to stay on the brink of hyperventilating.
"Calm down, Sweetheart." The man rumbled as he climbed into the driver's seat. "You'll both be alright. You'll see."
