Stolen

Excerpt 1

"You're a disgusting little girl, Lassiter, aren't you?"

"Yes, miss. I'm so sorry, miss." She almost whispered the required response.

"What are you, speak up?"

"A disgusting little girl, miss."

"And why is that?"

"I...I've been masturbating, miss. In the school bathroom, miss."

"You're a wanker in other words, Lassiter, a naughty, dirty little wanker. Isn't that nearer the mark?"

Although she hated that word and she would never actually use it unless required to do so, thirty year old professional woman Caroline Lassiter had to stand in front of this insane sadist that had recently taken over her existence and admit that, yes she was a naughty, dirty little wanker and she was so dreadfully sorry. What had become of her life? First she had been kidnapped and beaten by that vile woman and her dreadful, ugly sidekick and then eventually delivered to this terrible house. Now, rather than a dentist with a nice little practise, a riverside apartment and a rather enviable lifestyle she was, to all intents and purposes, a slave to two crazy old women. And if that wasn't bad enough she wasn't merely a slave, but her two captors now required her to adopt the role of their daughter! She didn't know or even care what twisted part of their upbringing or development had led them along this dark path, but it was clear they had very deep psychological problems.

The tall, terrifying one was Mummy Jane, the fat frightening one was Mummy Jennifer. Her two mummies liked her to adopt various roles, sometimes like now she was their eleven year old daughter, Carrie a pupil at Middlebury Junior School. At other times she was Caroline their sixteen year old daughter a pupil at the Sacred Heart Convent School, or maybe young Amanda (her middle name), an orphan who they'd taken in and given a home to. Their imagination knew no bounds, Mummy Jennifer even liked to dress her as a baby in a tiny pink dress and a nappy and then sit her on her ample knee and feed her some sort of foul mush with a plastic teaspoon. They may well have been well-educated and wealthy, the house for example was absolutely huge, and they might have precise, upper-class accents but that didn't stop them from being quite mad, In Caroline's opinion.

 

Excerpt 2

The woman crouched shivering in her cage. It was too low for her to stand in and too short for her to stretch out. Consequently her only options were to crouch or kneel. An hour later the man had come down the stairs and turned the ice cold water from the hose on her, as he left he'd turned the lights out off and left her crouched cold, naked, and terrified in pitch blackness. She was in shock and she knew it, her mind had shut down and refused to work. How long she'd been down here she couldn't say. She'd been kidnapped, she knew that much but by whom or why she had no idea. She wasn't rich or well-connected; she didn't have any close family in fact. So why had this happened to her, why her in particular? She still knew who she was, Claire Hartley from Colchester. She worked in an ordinary little office in an ordinary little town. She was twenty eight; she owned her own house and her own car. But beyond that she could recall nothing more than walking across a concrete floor to her car, after that her old life had ended. What really frightened her, what reduced her to helpless tears was the attitude of her captors. She could tell, even in her reduced state that they'd done this sort of thing before. She certainly wasn't the first person they'd abducted and terrified.

They hadn't just threatened her and then taken her purse and her mobile. The man hadn't dragged her to a secluded corner and assaulted her. They hadn't discussed any sort of ransom for her, so clearly she hadn't been imprisoned against her will for either sex or money. But then, why had she been taken? Her two captors had beaten and slapped her, but hadn't really left any permanent marks; they'd deprived her of sleep and questioned her endlessly about her private life. They'd kept her in the dark room on her own without speaking to her for what seemed like several hours. They'd kept her awake with bright lights and loud music for a similar amount of time. They'd deprived her of food, they'd let her piss herself by not allowing her out of the cage, but then they'd give her three proper meals and ensure she used the bathroom facilities regularly.

 

She was no expert but she knew that a psychological war was been waged against her, but the questions still remained. Who was waging the war against her and why?