Published RP - Test Subjects Ch. 01

Mediocre Author's Note: Okay, folks. Please don't judge this one too harshly! This was a collaborative story (often referred to as RP) written by myself and Seraph_Nocturne. It was written strictly for fun, but we realized that readers might enjoy it too, so here it is.

Within the D/s genre of noncon writing, Seraph and I both write "switch" and we both enjoy maledom and femdom stories. So in order to decide who wrote for what character, which character took control, and even which sex position occurred... Everything was done at random. We randomly selected everything, and the story was so unique and fun as a result.

If you're looking for a story which flows exactly like a traditional narrative, then this might not be right for you. But If you think you'd like to read a work that is ostensibly a naturally occurring narrative, with no directly planned direction, written by two female authors, both cackling like lunatics as we torture our poor fictional characters... Well then this story may be ideal for you.

Comment, because one of us will answer almost everyone.

As always, Enjoy:

Seraph_Nocturne's Note: In the absolutely lascivious spirit of writing camaraderie, M.A. and I have been exploring various types of collaborative styles, and lit-role-play has without a doubt been one of the most fun fashions of writing yet. I truly hope the following piece is as entertaining to read as it was to write!

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He missed the sun.

He missed knowing what time it was, and the sounds of the city. He missed being able to sleep with a pillow and blanket, and food that actually looked like food, and fuck if he didn't miss his dumb-fuck annoying Pomeranian. Well, it wasn't his; it had been his grandmother's before she passed. Being barely a puppy, and the only one in his family who didn't have a human litter of his own, it only made sense that he got stuck with the yippy little shit. Oh, what he would give to hear those non-stop yips now and wake up to Fifi trying to mouth rape him with doggy breath kisses.

With a deep sigh, he lay on his back and stared at the blinding white of the ceiling. If he stared for too long, the wave of vertigo forced him to stand up, but being in a literal cube of white nothingness, even that did little to give him a sense of direction. He groaned and let his golden-green eyes shut out the room, trying to dig deep for a fresh memory to keep him sane.

How long had he been here now?

The last he felt along the walls, the long string of numbers had appeared as always. They ticked away as if they were seconds, but they didn't quite match up. It took about a second and a half for the number to climb, one digit at a time. A bit of mental math placed the length of his imprisonment at about sixty days. It felt like sixty weeks. It felt like sixty months.

It wasn't cold or hot inside, though he might have liked it a bit warmer. He lived in San Diego, which was probably a balmy temperature comparable to Hell around this time of year, but the beach being literally walking distance from his condo had always made it better. The mess of springy, light colored curls that were usually well tamed had grown out over the duration of his stay as prisoner of the damned white box. He had long gotten accustomed to the fact that hair would grow nowhere else. He wasn't sure of the magic or manipulation behind it, but he mused early on before... well... before shit began to happen, that being bare definitely added another inch or two on to what was already a highly impressive piece of equipment between his legs.

To be honest, he missed the facial scruff more than the little train of neatly groomed hair from his navel to his cock. He had only turned twenty-two over spring and it had felt like it took an eternity for him to begin to grow facial hair. His friends teased him relentlessly over it... or well, he was sure they would, if he had any friends.

Oh, he was so fired. Oh, he had absolutely flunked out of college by now. Honestly, Ayden would've been surprised if anyone at all was looking for him. He didn't have an outstanding reputation as the world's most conversational, friendly twenty-something out on the West Coast. He didn't have much of a reputation at all, interning as assistant to an investigative journalist. He spent most of his time in solitude, snapping photos and tailing leads when his mentor was too busy fucking whores in cheap Best Western rooms. His mother called every other month, but aside from that, he had long since been the black sheep that no one expected to show at family gatherings. It wasn't that they didn't want them there... Ayden didn't want to be there.

He felt like he had all but suffocated under the strain of doting and overly affectionate aunts and uncles and cousins for the better half of his life, and when the opportunity came to get the hell out of dodge and do something for himself arose, he bought the plane ticket with a backpack and enough to cover the deposit and first month's rent on a dinky apartment and never looked back.

And here he was... some sort of human guinea pig for the Feds. Or... or well, he wasn't sure. Some really fucked up individuals, though, was what he had gathered. At first, it seemed like a joke. And then they started the torture. And then they expected him to be the torturer. He reached up, plucking a few dusty blond curls that hung from his head for the satisfaction of the 'spoing' as they bounced back. He repeated the action perhaps three dozen times before a frustrated sigh expelled past his lips, and he shifted over onto his stomach, burying his youthful face against his arms.

Ayden was not at all an unconventional youth. He had always been taller than most of his classmates. At six feet and four inches, there weren't many people he had to look up to. His build had been wiry and thin as a child, but not long after puberty, he'd taken up soccer; he had gone from awkward, nerdy #2 pencil to a relatively well toned and handsome #2 pencil.

He had no vanity over it, but he'd lie if he said he hadn't stopped a hottie or two in her tracks since he'd started at University... If not for his height and sinewy, muscular stature, then most definitely those gorgeous golden-green fuck-me eyes. Their words, not his. His eyes seemed always on the verge of lulling shut because he was just that fucking lazy, with long thick lashes, perfectly complimented by the chiseled structure of his face and cupid's bow lips, which seemed just a bit too big.

"Heeey guys! Been a few days since... well... anything has happened. I don't know who's running this weird shit but if you let me go, I promise... I mean it, I promise on my father's grave... that I won't sue the fuck out of you."

His voice was muffled against his arms, but he didn't doubt for a second that someone was listening. And no one responded, as always. He closed his eyes with irritation and huffed a sigh. Back to fucking sleep again then, I guess. God, please just... 'Hostel' me and get it over with already... being dead would be better than this Hell hole! He didn't need to do anything but mentally demand sleep, and as simply as that, he drifted off in the same fashion he always did.

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Nicole felt consciousness touch her mind, but she refused to open her eyes. Even through her eyelids, she could tell that the lights were on. That meant that her roommate came home and forgot to turn them off again. That bitch. She supposed it was better having a roommate than living alone, when you accounted for bills, but sometimes she swore that solitude would be preferable to having a selfish, self-centered housemate.

Her head wasn't pounding. That was nothing shy of a miracle in and of itself. She had gotten absolutely trashed last night, and the previous evening was only coming to her in isolated snatches. She squeezed her eyes even tighter shut, attempting to block out the light, as she tried to remember everything she could about the previous night.

She had gotten stood up by that piece of shit Denzel. That hadn't been exactly surprising, but it had been incredibly frustrating. Without a date, or even a friend within 2,000 miles, it fell to her to enjoy the evening by herself. She had, for the most part... But it had involved a lot of booze, a lot of gullible dudes, and a lot of dancing.

And, of course, she had gone out of her way to cock-tease every guy she met on the dance floor. It was outside of her power to hurt Denzel for his decision to stand her up; but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and she had taken out her anger towards him on every guy she had met.

Not with open rage, of course. No, she preferred to use her beauty and subterfuge to benefit from the suffering of her victims... she wasn't a sadist. She was a pragmatist. Of course, she knew that leading guys along in exchange for free drinks was a dangerous game to play when alone, but she had gotten quite good at it. She knew exactly how to lead a guy along, get him to buy her as many drinks as possible, before she ditched him and moved on to a different sucker at a different bar.

All she had to do was flash those gorgeous blue eyes of hers, and the boys would be drooling themselves with lust. A hand on her ass during an intense, thumping techno song, or a gentle brush against her breast during a slower tune... It was simply the price of her success. She would let them play their game, because she was playing a different game. And she always won.

Her body was athletic and beautiful. Of course she knew that. She had good genetics and good habits. The perfect combo for a woman who could lead almost any man by the nose if she wanted. Not Denzel, obviously. But some guys were just shit, and didn't realize what they were missing out on.

Fuck. She had trimmed up for him, and he had left her waiting. She cursed him again, under her breath. She had wanted that dark-skinned young man pretty badly, but she had returned home alone. Part of her had been dying to fuck somebody.... But she hadn't met anyone that night worth her time. Just a lot of 5's and 6's dying for a 10. They had paid, and she had played. And no one got laid. She giggled at her impromptu poetry.

And yet, somehow, all that drinking had not left her with a hangover. That was amazing.

She ran her fingers through her light brown hair, pushing it out of her face. She noticed that her body felt a little chilly. Her roommate probably turned the air down again, as if their electric bill wasn't high enough already. Whatever. As soon as she got up, she would turn it back up to a more reasonable temperature. It was a Saturday. She had the entire day free.

Lying on her back, she laced her fingers and laid them across her tight, firm stomach. She felt her bare skin and raised an eyebrow. With her eyes still closed, she tried to remember getting undressed before going to bed. She couldn't recall. The night before was still a blur, but she supposed that wasn't too strange.

"Damn, this bed seems hard as fuck this morning!" she muttered, sitting up and stretching. She slowly peeled her eyes open, allowing them to adjust to the light. An immediate sense of vertigo crashed across her mind.

She was not in her apartment, but instead she found herself in a small white enclosure. She snatched her head about, surveying the area.

There were no doors, no windows, and no obvious light sources. The only thing within the room was a man lying prone on a small platform about five feet away from her. And he was naked.

Nicole scrambled to her feet and backed towards the far wall. Looking down, she immediately noticed that she was naked as well. A hand reflexively dropped to her groin, attempting to cover up her crotch. As her thin fingers touched the skin down below, she noticed that the entire mound of her mons was perfectly smooth. Her eyes grew wide with surprise. She remembered trimming up in preparation for her date with Denzel, but she had not waxed... and yet now her flesh was entirely bare, completely hairless. What the fuck?

She crossed her other arm over her breasts, thanking her lucky stars that they weren't any larger than they were. She wasn't able to entirely cover the soft globes, but a large breasted woman would have had an even worse time of it. Without even realizing, she hunkered down slightly, in the universal gesture of ashamed nakedness.

How the fuck had she gotten here? Where the fuck was here anyway? And who was the guy sleeping across the room from her?

She tried to search her mind concerning the night before. The man did not exactly resemble any of the guys that she had toyed with last night, but there had been a lot of them... and she had not exactly been sober.

She let out an involuntary gasp, as she saw the man stir upon the table.

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A soft, distinctively female voice had broken the silence. Ayden's mind stirred almost immediately, but he made a conscious effort to battle against it, with no true will to wake. He had always been a light sleeper. It seemed now he was more than ever, in a room that was essentially the world's most demented prison, sterile and quiet and overall infuriatingly secure. He had tried the first day to escape. When there were no windows, or doors, the reality of being caged sunk in quickly, and he realized it was pointless. There was only one way in, and one way out. Whoever put them here had total control.

At first he had hoped that he might be able to somehow sneak out whenever they moved a new female into the room, but those hopes were dashed every single time. It always seemed that they waited until he was sleeping to place another. They might have forced him asleep once or twice when he fought the urge and tried his damndest to stay awake, after they took one girl and before they placed another... the fucking bastards. Her voice had faded into nothing but he could hear her moving and with a frustrated groan his light eyes opened to stare into the endless hellscape of a blindingly white ceiling. Please let it be someone familiar...

The usual girls knew what was going on. They had gotten used to it by now. They didn't fuss or fight or... go through that entire day in screaming, crying panic. Honestly, he preferred to just get it over with at this point. Playing nice, and trying to comfort someone he barely knew could only go so far... and it was almost always the same. He was the immediate culprit. He was a strange, naked man in a weird, blindingly white room with her and so he absolutely had to be responsible for every little fucked up incident that followed... right? A smirk threatened the corners of his lips. Well... those types were always fun to punish at least.

"Yeah... the beds are always hard as fuck. You'd think they'd be a little more hip to comfort means when it comes to keeping captives... but that just kind of furthers my theory that it's the government. Why let the prisoners be comfortable when you can keep them miserable?" His voice was deep, and there was a lazy sort of amusement to the tone as he stretched his arms over his head, and avoided looking at her right away. Staring down fresh meat was a sure fire way to get attacked. He didn't recognize her voice. She probably hadn't been here for very long.

"I guess I should give you the rundown? My name is Ayden. I've been here for... two months or something like that. I didn't put you here. I don't know who put you here. I'm assuming the same person who put you here also put me here... and no, I'm not going to hurt you..." If I can help it.

He slowly rose to sit, the loose curls of his tawny locks, with their lighter natural highlights of gold teasing against his cheeks. A hair cut couldn't have been much to ask for when they decided to touch up lasering all of the hair off of his body. It wasn't entirely unmanageable yet. If anything he had to fuss over it was the lack of natural vitamin D, but it did nothing to erase the soft sun-kissed tan of his skin, or the speckling of freckles over the bridge of his nose. He offered a lazy, lopsided grin, and didn't bother to cover himself.

Ayden had never been uncomfortable naked. He supposed it happened when you grew up with a family as large as his, who were the literal embodiment of new aged hippies... nudity had always been a non-issue, and chances were likely you ended up sharing a bathroom with at least one or two siblings when there were only two in your house and you were the youngest of seven. It seemed his new roommate had different thoughts though. She had taken to shielding her private areas almost desperately, sinking low to the ground... it was cute, almost, but it did make it hard to gauge her age, or anything about her aside from well... cute. Brunette. Gorgeous eyes. She was a leap above the last few girls.

"I suppose all of that qualifies as the basics... even being here for this long, I still don't know a damn thing about anything that's going on. All I know is that we're prisoners here, wherever the hell that is, and whoever is doing this is calling the shots... not me. I repeat: I am not the reason you're here, so please don't try to strangle me in my sleep or anything..."

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The man was stirring. He had spoken to her, and the moment her eyes fell upon his face, she was certain that she had never seen him before. He looked athletic: both strong and unusually tall, and she felt her stomach plummet within her. Why was she here? Who was this man... and why were the two of them naked? Had she fucked this guy last night? Certainly not. There's no way she would forget something like that.

"Please... I'm sorry... I don't know why... please, let me go!" Her back squeezed tightly against the cool white wall, and she felt herself pressing tight against it, as if somehow she could ooze into it and slip through. "I... I don't remember you. If I cheated you out of some drinks last night, then I'm sorry... just... This isn't right. You can't hold me here, just because I convinced you to buy me some drinks and then bailed."

Even as she spoke, she could tell that her words were pointless. She knew she had never met this man before. And even if she had, if he had kidnapped her, then they were far beyond talk.

Then again, he must have done it with help. There was no visible way in or out of this room, so clearly he had someone on the outside to help shut them in? Maybe his accomplice was one of the guys that she tricked? Fuck!

"Please. I'm not a bad person. I don't deserve this. You can't do this to me!" Every cliched response that she'd ever heard came to her mind immediately, and she stumbled on her words trying to get them all out at once.

Another thought bloomed in her mind, and she felt her soul drop yet again. No one would come looking for her. Her roommate would probably rejoice when she didn't show up for several weeks; at least until the rent was due. Her boss would probably think that she had decided to quietly quit. Hell, he had pegged her as a quiet quitter for a long time.

And ever since she had emancipated herself from her parents, she had been entirely alone... Just like she liked it. Now she knew that no one would even realize that she was missing...