Gently Bitten

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Not A Kidnapping

 

"Doesn't kidnapping usually involve some kind of... threat, or force, or something?"
The two other people sitting at her table blinked, as if surprised to hear her speak, and stopped their conversation to turn and look at her.
The woman smiled.  "Glad to see you're back with us.  But no, who said anything about kidnapping?  Aren't you here by  choice?"
"No!" she said firmly.  She looked around.
She hadn't until that moment really taken in where she was; but now that she was looking, it seemed to be some sort of seedy strip club.  There were other customers distributed throughout the room, but none very close to the tiny table next to the stage where the three of them sat.  Up on stage, a voluptuous woman with eyes half-closed, a dreamy look on her face, was grinding her hips absentmindedly to the slinky music, while holding her ample breasts to her chest with one arm and unclasping her bra with the other.  The only other things she was wearing were matching panties, earrings, and a slim, pretty charm bracelet.
She definitely did not want to be here.  Ugh.  "How the Hell did I even get here?  No, I do not want to be here."
"Then what's stopping you from walking out?" the woman asked, with another smile.  Her smile had an edge to it, as if she were hiding some secret.  For that matter, the man's expression looked eerily similar.
She considered.  Nothing was stopping her from getting up and walking out.  She was fully dressed and still wearing her coat; she could feel her wallet and cell phone in the coat pockets.  Her two... abductors, or whatever they were, were not threatening her or looking aggressive in any way; both sat back in their chairs with looks of smug, condescending confidence.  The exit door was clearly labeled on the far side of the room; other than threading between a few empty tables, nothing was between her and the door.  Nobody else in the strip club seemed to be even looking their way.
That wasn't quite true.  As she was thinking, a waitress came up behind her.  "Can I get you anything?" she asked the table at large.
"I'll have a bourbon on the rocks," the woman said.  "Makers is fine."
"I'll have a vodka martini," the man said with a smirk.  "And she'll have a Deep and Dreamless Sleep."
---
"Why would you even kidnap someone and take them to a strip club?" she asked indignantly.
The woman smiled at her.  "Welcome back," she said indulgently.
"I'm serious!" she said.  A wave of her hand took in the whole of the dimly lit dive.  On stage, another young woman with straight honey-blonde hair a little longer than a pageboy cut was dreamily bumping and grinding while slowly leaving her clothes in a pile.  Her shirt and bra were off, but she was still wearing a miniskirt and stockings.  And another slim silver charm bracelet.
"I thought you wanted to be here, since you've stayed so far," the woman said.
She looked towards the exit.  Her eyes didn't seem to find the sign right away, but she knew it was over just past the bar.  There were only a few tables between her and there, not really very much in the way.  She could just get up and walk out.
In a moment, she'd do exactly that.  She was fully dressed and still wearing her coat, and she still had her wallet and phone.  Nothing was stopping her.
She looked towards the stage.  The young performer's eyes were fluttering as if they were trying to close, or trying to open, as she wriggled out of her miniskirt and dropped it on the raised floor beside the stripper pole.
She was actually quite pretty.  But there was no reason to stay and watch this. "This is definitely not my scene," she said.
The other two at the table laughed at that.  "Oh, I think this is exactly and entirely, your scene," the woman said.
"And do you know what happens next in your scene?" the man said.
---
"Why did you even bring me here?"
The woman put down her finished drink.  "Hey, look who's back with us."
"Oh, hi again!" said the man, gesturing with his own nearly-empty martini glass.  "You're really missing most of the show."  He balled up some bills and tossed them into the pile of clothing next to the woman on stage, a petite brunette who had just gotten down to just her flowery panties and another slim silver charm bracelet.  She was bent over, showing the audience her ass.  She didn't react to the money landing in her shirt.
"I'm serious!"  She looked around.  She didn't see the exit sign and couldn't quite remember which direction it should be in, but she was still seriously thinking about walking out.  She should just get up and do it.
"I'm not sure what you mean," said the woman.  "Do you remember us bringing you here?"  She turned to the man.  "Do you remember bringing her here?"
The man shrugged.
"No, I-- you drugged me or something, I don't remember, but I wouldn't come here on my own!"
"What's stopping you from leaving?" the woman asked.
"I... nothing, I don't know!  But I keep not doing it!"
"Why do you think that is?" The woman was smiling that infuriating smile again.
"You... did something to me!"
"Who, me?" smiled the woman.  "Us?"  The man smiled as well.
"Yes, you!"
The woman smirked more, if possible.  "How about this.  When you think about getting up and leaving, just standing up right now and walking out, is there some other feeling that stops you?  And if so, where is that feeling located?"
She thought hard about it.  Imagined standing up, and walking out... somewhere. For now just standing up.  Her legs sliding a little further under the chair to be directly under her, then straightening, her hands pushing the chair back...
She felt an almost physical tug on her right wrist.  Not looking yet, she experimented, thinking about different variations of standing up and walking away.
A tug on her right wrist, every time.  Like she was chained in place.
She looked down.  There around her wrist was a slim, silver charm bracelet.  The single charm hanging off of it looked like a tiny silver pocket watch.
"Oh," she said, staring at it.  Something about the sight made the world seem... quiet.  Distant.
Unimportant.  Faded.
Before she realized it, her arm had begun to lift.  Raising up in the air, responding to a tug she could *feel*, as if she were manacled to the ceiling and the chain was being drawn back, pulled on, lifting her wrist upwards.  It was at eye level, and her eyes were irresistibly fixated on that bracelet, that tiny pocket watch charm.
The world slipped further away, and she scarcely noticed when the tug changed direction, pulling her up out of her seat and forward towards the stage.
Somewhere far away and completely unimportant, deserving no attention at all, a DJ said some words that she had no need to take any conscious note of.  "And let's welcome to the stage our last special guest from the local Hypnosis Club, Miss Mindless Abductee!  I'm sure that's her real name, folks-- you can just call her Mindless for short.  And here's some special music, just for her..."
The chords of "I Put A Spell On You" started, and she reached down and began pulling off her shirt.