Sybian Streaming Trap

She slammed her fist on the flat roof above her, hitting it with less impact than she'd expected. So feeble and weak. So tired. She rose carefully, half-standing and half-crouching as she grappled to steady herself, leaning on the walls. Positioning her feet was difficult, as the screens, chains and a very wet sticky saddle took up most of the floor space. It was slick with her juices, filling the air with her musky sex. It was simultaneously nauseating and strangely erotic in a carnal sort of way. An animalistic side she hadn't known of herself that had shocked her. She pushed it from her mind, she wanted to push the whole ordeal away and reject it. She had to get out of this thing!

Looking around it now from her new vantage point, she was struck by how alien and clinical the box felt, like an examination room. Scanning the walls and ceiling of her cell, she soon spotted the latch at the back. It was set into the wall which had been her backdrop for the duration of the 'show'. It was high up, close to the top of the box, and the mechanism looked like the kind of handle a car door would have, a sunken indent in the wall with a pullable lever inside it. She reached for it, almost afraid to find out what awaited her outside. Whatever trepidation she felt was far outweighed by the urgent need to put distance between herself and the objects of her torment. Closing her eyes, she pulled the latch and the roof of the box clicked open with a soft hiss. Cold fresh air rushed in from the tiny gap from where the top had slightly lifted. She could hear thumping music coming from somewhere distant. Timidly, she pushed it open on it's hinge and peered out.

It was dark, and it took her eyes a while to adjust having been in the bright white box for so long. There were street lamps quite a way away, and the box was on some dingy concrete slabs extending away from her in every direction, then a sudden drop several metres on all sides. Her brain strained to make sense of it, before she realised she was on the roof of a building. The music was familiar, that rhythmic beat reverberating through the walls. It was dance music... She was on top of a night club! She remembered now, she was out with her friends at some guerrish club in town for a birthday. That's what she had been doing before waking in the box. How long ago was that?

Standing up a little more confidently, she tried to get a better look, pushing the box lid off to the side with one hand and using her spare arm to cover up her breasts. The cold night air stroked at her sticky skin, sinking into her and drawing shivers from her lithe frame. Scanning the surroundings, she nearly cried with relief when she spotted the small pile of clothes at the foot of the box. Her long black dress and strappy black heels were laid out, with her phone atop the pile. Looking further afield, there was a grey metal door at the corner of the roof, hopefully her way back inside.

Checking there was no one around, she clumsily clambered out of the box. Though it had felt small on the inside, it came up to her chest when she stood, so she had to fight to get traction on the wall with her feet to climb out; her arms weren't strong enough to lift her alone. She cringed as her foot met the slippery wet saddle, and she knew she would need to use it as leverage to push herself up and over the wall. Swinging her legs over and falling out gracelessly, she gasped as her sore bottom grazed the pavement as she fell in a heap. Fresh air replaced the overpowering scent of her own sex. It was really quite cold out. She lunged for the clothes, quickly unfolding the dress and holding it above her as she stood. For a moment, she was fully naked in the night, stood shivering and dripping with her juices, as she wriggled the tight dress down her sticky body. It was a high neckline, with white embroidery around the shoulders, long sleeves and with a hem ending just before her knees. The soft black fabric was form fitting, hugging her frame as she pulled it into place. She was so grateful to have clothes again.

Grabbing her phone, she found it was switched off, and whilst it booted up she quickly adorned her jewellery, white pearl earrings and a black headband. She shuffled her feet into her heels. How she longed for a pair of flats in her exhausted state! But this was the only footwear available, her feet mostly exposed except for a thin black band that ran over her toes, and another around her ankle. She noticed her underwear hadn't been returned, but she didn't have the energy to be properly upset about it. She was freezing, and raced to get the heels clasped and quickly clip-clop over to the door. It was quite a distance and she peered over the edge as she went. This was a big building, a good few stories up, no wonder no one had heard her screams or come to help. The box had been deliberately placed far from help.

The door swung open with a crash as the metal thwacked into the wall. She rushed inside and closed the door behind her. A sigh of relief escaped her. Warmth. Freedom and warmth. The music was much louder here, in some kind of back stairwell for staff. It was grimey, bare and scarcely lit. It was at this moment her phone awoke with a buzz, and a flurry of messages appeared on screen. It was her friends, complaining how she had gone off with some guy. It seemed she had been gone a little over an hour. A guy? She didn't remember a guy... Had she been drugged and carried up here to where the box was waiting? Why? Why her? Fighting back another bout of sobbing, she descended the staircase, her eyes darting from her phone messages to her surroundings. Her legs were wobbly, and it took conscious effort to keep upright. Weaving down a labyrinth of concrete hallways, she followed the trail of music until she reached a faintly lit store room full of crates of bottles and kegs of beer. She was getting closer to civilisation, she could even hear voices from here. The sound of normality. The music was close now, the walls pulsing with bass, the familiar sound of vibration was not welcome, sending a shiver up her spine. She had to get out of here.

There was a door with a small window at the top and she peered through it. The dance floor heaved with scantily clad youngsters in the distance, with a group of drunk girls wandering away from her, but she couldn't tell where they had come from. Three bouncers charged passed them, bounding towards her before sharply turning off to one side. Suddenly she realised where she was, she was in a corridor by the bathrooms to the nightclub. This was probably a good spot to emerge from. She quickly pulled the handle and slid out. The sprung door closed quickly behind her, hitting her lightly on the back as she left and propelling her forward. Her ass cheeks stung from even that small amount of pressure. It was so dark, no one seemed to notice her emerging from a door marked 'Staff Only'. It was locked with a key code from the outside, so there was no going back that way now. She cursed herself for not taking some pictures of the box, or examining it more closely, but equally she was glad to just get away from it.

Her friends had been in the VIP area, and she would have to push through swathes of people to get to it. She knew it was on the other side of the dance floor, but even this extra burst of adrenaline wasn't enough to clear her mind to properly remember where exactly. Holding her breath, she fought to keep her eyes open. The music was so loud, but Elouise found it almost hypnotising. She slithered through hot writhing bodies, cutting across the dance floor. Eyes were all over her, admiring her slim feminine figure accentuated by her tight black dress. Heads turned as she passed them. Drunk guys took liberties with their hands, casually grazing her bare leg as she moved around them, or standing in place rather than moving to allow her through. It meant she had to get so close to them, running her body against theirs, her chest against their chest, only a little fabric between their bare skin. Her nipples were still rigid from the cold, could they tell she wasn't wearing underwear?

After a humiliating infinity of pushing and shoving through the crowd she saw some people she recognised. As they spotted her she suddenly wished she had taken a pit stop in the bathroom first. How must she look? Did she still stink of sex? Now that a semblance of normality had been returned to her she felt drained and sick. Two girls rushed towards her, they took her arms and looked at her with concern. They were talking quickly about having been so worried, and asking where she had gone, but she couldn't respond. If she tried to talk, she knew she would burst out in tears again. They were fawning all over her, clearly drunk but concerned by her silence and grave expression.

"Oh my god. Is she like, okay?" One girl shouted more loudly than she needed to, they seemed worried that her drink might have been spiked. Oh if they only knew all she'd been through. Elouise barely felt real. The other girls were looking over at her now, there were so many, perhaps fifteen of them. All flawless, wrapped in dazzling dresses and most flashing more skin than she would dare. Their make-up was pristine, most were gorgeous. She couldn't meet their eyes, she felt so far from them. They were so carefree and merry. She felt dirty. Like she wasn't a person anymore. Worst of all, she felt special. Like she knew something they didn't. She had been a part of something horrible. Secret. Some sick twisted fantasy that they could never dream of, and she'd survived. How could they be so pristine? Like she had been before. All dolled up and excitable, all in the hopes for some inane little midnight trist like a stolen kiss by the bar, or grinding with a stranger to the music. A hollow thrill compared with what she'd been forced to endure. An unlocked pleasure they would likely never know. It had beaten and broken her, but it had also awoken a dark want. If she hadn't have been utterly spent, she might have gotten a little wet at the thought.

"Sweetie, look at me." a familiar girl was talking to her. A friend who's name she couldn't retrieve from the recesses of her mind, "Are you alright? Do you want to go home?"

"Yes please." Elouise whispered, pulling her forward into a light embrace, and resting her head on her shoulder.

"Alina, can you call us a cab?" said the girl, but Elouise could barely register the words. Her body went limp as she drifted off, the hint of a smile on her face as her eyes fell shut and the sleep took her.