An Enjoyable Captivity

Fuka should have known better than to accept gifts from Gretel. She’d been so pleased that Gretel had actually spoken to her, she’d eaten the pastry without a second thought. But soon enough she’d begun to feel dizzy, and while she didn’t remember passing out, she must have. Because here she was, waking up in a strange bed in a room she didn’t recognise.

Fuka sat up – or tried to. Her wrists were bound to the bedposts with red ribbon. She tugged at the ribbon, but the knots held.

‘You’re up!’ Fuka hadn’t noticed Hansel, sitting in an armchair across the room. ‘I’ll tell Gretel.’

‘Um,’ Fuka said, ‘could you untie me first?’

‘About that ...’ Hansel laughed awkwardly. ‘I can’t. Gretel will get mad at me if I set you loose. Sorry, Fuka-love.’ And Hansel nipped out the room, leaving her alone.

Fuka sighed. If it had just been Hansel, she wouldn’t have been concerned. But if it were Gretel who wanted her tied up ... she couldn’t imagine what the other girl had in mind.

Shortly, she heard Gretel’s voice from outside the room – telling Hansel to stay out. Fuka tried to sit up as much as she could, to look presentable.

Gretel came in, and shut the door behind herself. Then she broke into a wicked smile. ‘Look at you. You really thought I’d just give you something. Hah! What an idiot you are.’

‘I’ll know better next time,’ Fuka said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll untie me now?’

‘And set you free to cause trouble? I don’t think so.’ Gretel rubbed her hands nervously. ‘You’re probably plotting your revenge right now.’

‘I”m really not,’ Fuka said. ‘I was just thinking that Mr Caramia and the others would be getting worried ...’

‘So I should let you run back to them, should I? It’s not happening. I’ve decided. I might not be allowed to blow you up, but I can make you suffer in other ways.’

‘Oh,’ Fuka said. The glint in Gretel’s eyes was still scary, even if there weren’t going to be any explosions.

Gretel came up closer to the bed, and she looked Fuka up and down. Fuka tried not to squirm under her gaze – there was something in the dismissiveness of her expression that made Fuka feel very exposed.

‘Tch. Why does he even like you?’ Gretel muttered. She sat down on the bed next to Fuka. ‘Maybe I should cut you up.’

Fuka didn’t know where she’d had it hidden, but Gretel pulled out a knife.

‘No-one will think you’re that pretty then,’ she said, and started to smile.

‘Please don’t,’ Fuka said.

‘Why not?’ Gretel said. She held the knife up against Fuka’s breastbone, and Fuka held her breath. ‘I bet you want him to think you’re pretty, don’t you? You’re so vain.’

‘It’s not that,’ Fuka said, her voice strained because she didn’t want to breathe in with Gretel’s knife pressed against her like that. Gretel wasn’t pressing hard enough to cut, but she could have been. ‘It just seems like it would hurt.’

Gretel looked at her with surprise, and then she snickered. ‘Of course it would hurt,’ she said. She drew the knife down, slicing a fine line in the swell of Fuka’s breast. Fuka gasped unwillingly, and then winced because that made the cut deeper.

‘Stop it,’ she said.

Gretel lifted the knife. She ran her finger along the cut she’d made, smearing the red blood. ‘What a mess,’ she said. ‘You bleed easy, don’t you?’

Guka didn’t think there was anything weird about bleeding when someone cut you. If anything was weird, it was the look of fascinated disgust on Gretel’s face and the way that Fuka felt, being cut.

The thing was, it had hurt, but it was also a little bit exciting. Being captured. Being toyed with. Maybe living with Kyrie had made her confused – she should be upset. Instead, she wanted to know what Gretel would do next.

Gretel lowered the knife toward her again, and Fuka braced herself.

Gretel smiled. And instead of cutting Fuka again, she took the neckline of Fuka’s dress in her offhand, and she sliced down through the ties of her bodice.

Fuka gasped. It was one thing if Gretel cut Fuka, but the dress had been a gift ...

‘Did you have to do that?’ Fuka asked, when Gretel had cut through all the ties.

‘I’m tormenting you,’ Gretel said, like Fuka was an idiot. ‘That means I can do it if I want to. Are you going to stop me?’

‘I guess I can’t.’

‘That’s right,’ Gretel said. ‘You’re at my mercy.’ Using the flat of the knife, she drew down the neck of Fuka’s top.

‘Oh,’ Fuka said.

Gretel dragged the fabric lower, until Fuka’s breasts were exposed, and Gretel had the tip of the knife lined up with Fuka’s nipple. Gently – Fuka wouldn’t have imagined Gretel being so gentle about anything – she drew the knife along the edge of Fuka’s areola.

Fuka tried to breathe into her diaphragm, to keep her chest still, but she found that she trembled. Not because she was scared, but because there was something pleasant about the sensation, about cool metal on her skin, and her own vulnerability. Gretel was careful not to cut her now.

‘You haven’t taken their brand yet, have you?’ she said. She lifted the knife, and repeated the trick with the other nipple. ‘Maybe I could brand you myself.’

Gretel changed her grip, drew the knife down in a line to the base of Fuka’s breast – and for a moment the feeling was exquisite, and in the next it was pain. But maybe there was something exquisite about the pain as well.

‘Don’t,’ Fuka said.

‘Don’t,’ Gretel repeated, in a high, mocking voice. The line she’d drawn bled, and Fuka realised she could feel how warm her blood was.

She’d never known that before. Of course her blood was hot.

Fuka looked up, to meet Gretel’s eyes. Gretel flushed, and looked angry.

‘Someone should cut you up properly,’ she said. ‘Don’t just sit there and take it.’

‘I thought you wanted me to,’ Fuka said. ‘You want me to suffer, right?’ The feel of warm blood was distracting, and maybe it was distracting for Gretel as well, because her eyes kept darting back to Fuka’s chest.

She should feel embarrassed, Fuka thought. It would be embarrassing if she had to try and walk home and her bodice was all loose and she’d bled through her blouse.

‘If you’re suffering, then you should fight back,’ Gretel said.

‘But I’m scared,’ Fuka said. ‘You have a knife. If I fight, you might just hurt me more.’

‘Exactly,’ Gretel said. She slid her thumb along the cut, which stung. ‘Poor scaredy-cat girl.’ She smeared the blood across Fuka’s nipple.

Fuka’s heart was racing, but not from fear. She was excited. She shouldn’t be excited by Gretel doing this to her, but she couldn’t help it. She’d always hoped she could befriend Gretel somehow, and if this was the way to do it ...

Gretel ran her whole hand over Fuka’s breast, and wouldn’t let the cut close. It felt like fire, a line of fire.

Fuka’s eyes fluttered shut, and she moaned.

Gretel took her hand away, and she laughed. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘I didn’t mean it.’

‘It’s no wonder the Oz famiglia keep you around.’ Gretel laughed again.

‘It’s not like that. No-one –’

‘No-one did this to you before?’ Gretel said, her voice mocking. ‘How sad. I’m the first.’

‘Um ... you weren’t going to stop, were you?’ Fuka meant to make it sound like she wanted Gretel to stop, but the words came out wrong.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Gretel said. She looked over Fuka’s body. ‘Once I’m done, you’ll never be able to go back to them.’ Her face was red, like she was embarrassed by what she was saying. Or maybe she was just getting worked up too.

‘You can try,’ Fuka said, feeling a little pink herself.

Gretel met her eyes then, her expression a little bit shy, a little bit cunning. But looking at Fuka as if she were a person, and not an object of disdain.

Gretel set the knife down on the bed, and she slipped her hands underneath Fuka, to undo the sash around her waist. She took off the chainlink belt and she set that aside too.

‘I couldn’t ask Hansel to do this,’ she muttered. She frowned at Fuka’s dress, which really couldn’t be undone any further without Fuka pulling it over her head. She looked back at the knife.

‘You wouldn’t complain even if I did ruin it, would you?’ Gretel said.

‘But I’d have to explain,’ Fuka said, ‘and I’m not sure I could.’

That put a smirk on Gretel’s lips. She picked up the knife, but she didn’t hack at Fuka’s dress. Instead, she used it to lift Fuka’s skirts and drag them slowly upwards.

‘I’d like to see that,’ Gretel said. She lowered the knife over Fuka’s thigh. Fuka could almost feel it, as Gretel traced the tip of it in the air above her skin.

Fuka bit her lip.

‘They’d definitely kick you out if they knew.’ Gretel drew the knife higher, and she pressed the flat of the blade down over Fuka’s underwear. The blade was cool where Fuka was hot, and Fuka’s head felt suddenly wild.

Would they kick her out if they knew? Fuka had been taken captive, after all – even if she’d been foolish, she surely couldn’t be blamed for that? They were probably searching for her, she thought. But if they found her like this ... she could have burned for shame.

‘You look like such a goody-good,’ Gretel said, ‘but you’re actually a pervert, right?’

‘I’m not,’ Fuka said, although she couldn’t deny that the pressure of the knife, the threat of it, was doing something to her.

‘You are,’ Gretel said. ‘You’re a perverted little girl.’ And she used the knife to slice the fabric of Fuka’s underwear. Fuka winced to hear the fabric tear, and then at the cool air, the thought that Gretel was looking at her down there ...

Grettled jammed the knife into the bedclothes, point down next to Fuka’s thigh, so that Fuka had to open her legs wider or be cut.

‘No-one else knows, do they?’ Gretel said. And she pushed two fingers inside Fuka. And Fuka gasped, unable to do anything about it. Gretel pumped her fingers in and out, and the sound that made was lewd. Fuka was almost glad she couldn’t resist; it rendered her sense of shame meaningless. There was nothing she could do except accept this.

Gretel took the knife again, in her offhand, and she nudged Fuka’s legs wider.

Fuka didn’t believe that Gretel intended to cut her again, but with the way Gretel was moving her hand, against Fuka and within her, Fuka couldn’t hold her legs still. It was that which cut her, not Gretel’s intent. The pain didn’t even feel like pain now; it had been transmuted into some other sensation, that was echoed by the pulsing between her legs, that was echoed by Gretel’s touch.

‘Look at you,’ Gretel said, and she tapped the flat of the blade against Fuka’s leg. ‘You really are dirty.’

‘You started it,’ Fuka said, her voice like a cry. She tugged against her restraints, not because she cared to be free right now, but because she had to do something. The way Gretel was making her feel ... she hadn’t known she could feel like this. Even before she’d lost her memory, she was sure she’d never felt like this.

‘I did,’ Gretel said. ‘That was very clever of me. No-one else was that clever, were they?’

Fuka shook her head.

Gretel trapped Fuka’s legs open with the knife again, and then, cruelly, she rubbed her thumb right around that spot that meant that Fuka couldn’t stay still. The pain was sharp, but the pleasure was sharper; it enveloped her, from her toes to the tips of her fingers; she cried out, but there were no words. Not for this.

Gretel must have been able to tell, because she sat back. When Fuka was sensible enough to focus on her again, she could see Gretel’s smug look.

Well, Fuka supposed she deserved to look smug; Fuka felt wonderful. Maybe she wouldn’t later, when she had to treat these cuts. But for now she felt good.

But Gretel wasn’t done with her yet. She looked over at the door, and then she went and pulled a chair up behind it. Fuka’s heart sped again.

‘Um. Aren’t you going to untie me now?’

‘No,’ Gretel said. Fuka had to turn her head to watch her – she looked a little shifty. But all she did was undress, leaving only her slip on. She looked cute, but it was slightly incongruous – like they were about to have a sleepover.

Fuka didn’t think it would be very comfortable, sleeping with her hands tied above her head.

Gretel took her underwear off, from under her slip. Fuka’s eyes went wide, and she quickly looked away – but not before she saw Gretel smirk.

‘Are you ready to do some work now?’ she asked.

‘But I’m not sure how I can, like this ...’ Fuka said.

‘Like this is perfect,’ Gretel said. She climbed onto the bed, and on top of Fuka. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to be any good at it.’

She didn’t have to be that mean, Fuka thought. It was very confusing, the way Gretel behaved ... kidnapping her, and cutting her, but making her feel good as well.

Gretel moved up Fuka’s over body, hitching up her skirt, until she was straddling Fuka’s face. And Fuka was suddenly confronted with the sight of her wet pussy. Wet because of Fuka? Because she’d been enjoying what she’d done to her?

‘Do you know what you need to do?’ Gretel asked.

Fuka could guess. She nodded, wishing she could see Gretel’s face though. And Gretel lowered her hips, and Fuka closed her eyes and put out her tongue. She licked at her, along between the folds of her labia, and then pressing her tongue inside her. And Gretel rocked her hips, and she shifted her weight so that Fuka could get her mouth on her clit. And when Fuka did, she ground against her harder.

Fuka had never imagined doing anything like this. It would never have occurred to her. They were both girls, after all ... but then, wasn’t that how Fuka could guess what Gretel might like her to do? Because she could imagine it being done to herself.

Maybe not like this though. Fuka couldn’t see herself ever being quite as demanding as Gretel was. She didn’t mind that, though. It was just how Gretel was.

Fuka kept using her tongue, wanting to return the pleasure Gretel had given her – and maybe she succeeded, because Gretel let out a high-pitched cry, which cut off, and Fuka felt her body shudder, around and over her. Gretel rubbed against her a few moments longer, before she fell back, and Fuka had to lift her head to see her.

She looked, Fuka thought, really sexy – with her slip hiked up, her hair loose and her chest heaving.

Fuka licked her lips, which tasted of Gretel. ‘Was it okay?’

‘You surprised me,’ Gretel said. ‘I might not be willing to let you go after all.’

For some reason, that made Fuka blush. The idea of Gretel keeping her here, like this ...

But surely Caramia and the others would come for her. It couldn’t last.

‘Maybe I could come back,’ Fuka said. She didn’t think it was that strange a statement, but for some reason Gretel looked taken aback. ‘I mean, if you wanted me to.’ Fuka flexed her wrists against her bindings.

Gretel got up hurriedly, and she undid the ribbon holding Fuka to the bed. ‘Of course I wouldn’t want something like that,’ she snapped.

‘Oh.’ Fuka sat up. She was quite dishevelled herself.

‘You’re practically one of them, aren’t you? We’re enemies.’

Fuka knew that. But at the same time ... ‘Maybe we don’t have to be?’

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Gretel said. But she put a hand to Fuka’s cheek, almost fondly, and it made Fuka’s heart flutter. ‘You better go. I don’t want them tearing the place down trying to find you.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they wouldn’t do that!’ Fuka said, but Gretel waved her words off.

‘And tidy yourself up,’ she said. She began to dress again herself.

Gretel had cut the ties of her bodice. But, Fuka thought, the ribbon Gretel had used to tie her wrists would do just as well.

Gretel noticed that, and she looked pleased. Only for a moment – then she caught Fuka’s attention on her, and she scowled.

Maybe Gretel wasn’t ready to invite her back. But Fuka thought she’d make a way to see her again.

Touching the cut that Gretel had left on her chest, Fuka thought she would look forward to it.