Stockholm Syndrome is live! Head over to Amazon to pick up your copy of this new and very dark erotic fantasy from A. Vivian Vane!

This has been an exciting project — not quite my first abduction narrative, but certainly the first to dwell in such loving and psychological details on the experience of confinement, torture, deprivation, etc. I think it’s very sexy, in a tense and intimate way that doesn’t necessarily need a fuck-scene every third paragraph to get the juices flowing.

That said, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, so I’m happy to have some fantasy and dickgirl projects coming up for release immediately after this. But for those who want to take a walk on the dark side, read on for a special preview of the dark and depraved world of Stockholm Syndrome…

Free Preview: “Stockholm Syndrome”

A jab of the cattle prod at Katherine’s shoulder made her shriek, but no pain accompanied it; Mason had not triggered the electric current.

“Go to the bed,” said Mason. “Get up on it, hands and knees. Cuff yourself around one of the vertical bars.” He nudged her again, then lifted the prod just a few inches away from her skin and triggered it once more, filling the air with the horrifying pop and crackle of electricity.

Katherine actually screamed—she couldn’t help herself—and uncurled as fast as her starved limbs could obey. She tried to stumble to her feet, but Mason was on her at once, jabbing her in the calf with the prod and sending a lance of burning pain through her leg. “Hands and knees!” he barked. “Crawl.”

Sobbing, Katherine crawled. She could barely even remember a time when these things had been part of her fantasies. Between hunger and pain, her animal brain was completely in charge—and it was a broken, beaten animal, desperate only to avoid more pain. Knees banging on the hard concrete floor, Katherine scrambled on all fours to the bed; climbed clumsily up on it and worked her way forward until she could pass the chain of the handcuffs behind one of the vertical bars and seal her right wrist in its cuff once more.

“That’s better,” Mason said again, the second time he had uttered the phrase. Katherine shuddered at its implications. She was being trained—and it was working, faster than she could have dreamed possible. Despite a frantic revulsion churning in her stomach, she made herself stay perfectly still on the bed, braced on her hands and knees with her naked ass in the air, as Mason lazily stripped off his shirt and unbuttoned his cargo pants.

Laying the cattle prod on the bed next to them, Mason climbed up behind Katherine and scooted forward on his knees. Licking one finger, he slipped it between Katherine’s legs and prodded at her naked sex. Katherine flinched at the touch, and at once Mason’s other hand slapped down hard on her ass, stinging and making a loud crack!

“Hold still,” grunted Mason. His fingers went on probing, wriggling from side to side and scraping against the folded flesh between Katherine’s thighs. She bit her lip hard to try and stifle a whimper; bowed her head and let it rest against the top of the bedframe as her abductor made a lazy, thorough inspection of her naked privates. From time to time, Mason would stop, withdraw his hand, and lick his finger again, then return it and resume probing, until the soft lips of her slit were thoroughly slicked and parted easily for a questing fingertip. “Better,” Mason murmured, and Katherine blushed and clenched her teeth in shame.

A soft rustle of cloth and a pair of fingers spreading her wider was all the warning Katherine got. Warmth pressed suddenly against her backside—and against her insides. The firm, fleshy hardness of Mason’s cock shoved into her body without ceremony, taking her hole in a simple and effective thrust. Katherine’s body clenched, and her stomach churned. Before she could cry out (or bite a cry back, fearful still of punishment), her abductor was hilted deep inside her, and moments later he was fucking her in firm, brisk strokes. She heard him breathe out in shuddering satisfaction; felt him shift and spread his knees a little wider as the thrusts grew more and more forceful.

Katherine hung her head low and let her tears fall silently onto the bare mattress. This was it, she reflected; this was what she had been dreaming about all those bored, lonely years. A big, bad man had taken her away, and now he was using her as his own personal fucktoy, and there was nothing she could do about it…

~

Excited yet? Read the whole thing by ordering “Stockholm Syndrome” on Amazon today!