The Arranged Capture of Thea

Old Cairo is a city of ancient piety filled with modern sin. Heavenly minarets reach high into the hellish haze of brown smog. They do nothing to keep the toxic ash from descending on the decrepit streets.

Thea adjusts her mask over her face and coughs through snowflakes of ash. She's not used to walking the surface, especially not in the dark regions of Zamalek. The neon signs in Arabic that flicker along the shop tops are the only illumination she has while she searches for the mediator. Women in Niqabs and men in full face masks walk about and weave in between ancient taxi cabs, all still running on gasoline. She tastes it and causes her to scrunch her face as she makes the turn down a darker street with less neon light.

A group of teens emerges from a smut shop with faded pink lights lining the window. They wear no masks and only scarves around their faces. Thea brings out her Asnan Hada Taser and brandishes it in her hand. The boys keep to their right as she passes further into the dark. The whizzing blue lights of the taser light the rest of her way.

The door of the mediator is tucked between a bionics shop with red neon and a darker store of jewelry, windows busted out and long since out of business. She punches in the code for the stiff door and pushes it in with her shoulder.

She climbs the narrow marble steps, up a twisting stairwell towards a light on the third level. The mediator's office is behind an opaque glass door, slightly ajar. It says "computer repair," just like the message said it would.

Thea takes a moment to take off her mask and adjust her long hair out of the headscarf she wears. She breathes the clean air wafting from his office to try and settle her mind. It's been months since she'd been touched. Years since she'd been satisfied. And a lifetime of fantasies unfulfilled. She wants her itch, her pleasurable darkness, to be scratched in the most sinister of ways.

When she relays this to a friend during a party at a broken high rise filled with shisha and hash, an Arab acquaintance with purple and blue implants on his neck overhears. He interjects and asks Thea a highly personal question about her fantasy. At first Thea is upset at the man and starts to curse at him in Arabic, but he just offers her a card.

"The Mediator. An expert on special sensual affairs," it reads. By the time she looks up, the man with the implants disappears into the cloud of the party.

She scans the QR code on the back with her retinal hud. The information comes up. Encrypted. Offline info. The message is simple and brief. A man with perfect English but a slight Egyptian accent sounds in her ears.

"We are the mediators. For those living under our oppressive regime, what stays constant is our humanity. This cannot be oppressed. Neither can our desires. And whatever your desire might be, we can help arrange it in the safety and most satisfying way possible. Come in person to our office to discuss and get a quote."

More details are given about the office and its location, possible pricing, and other details she listens to intently. And those directions have now led her here, to this office of this supposed mediator. At this moment, all she cares about is if this is legitimate, if it will be real, and if she can trust whoever this mediator is. She takes out her Asnan Hada, checks the charge, and stows it in her coat pocket as she creaks the door open.

"Salam," says a skinny man at a desk. He's surrounded by broken computer screens and used keyboards stacked to the ceiling. "Can I help you ma'am?" he asks.

"I'm looking for someone," says Thea.

"Who?" asks the skinny man. She holds up the card with the QR code. The skinny man just points at the next office.

When she walks in, a haughty man with a fixed set of white hair and a generous waistline sits behind an old wooden desk. His office is littered with typewriters, old 21st century cell phones, and the occasional generator. He looks up at her. She holds up the card once more.

"Come in. Close the door behind you," he says. She does so and he offers her a seat.

"Are you the mediator?" she asks. He ignores her question.

"Where did you get that card?" he asks her.

"A man with blue and purple implants on the side of his neck. Party near Tahir square. North side."

The man sits back and laces his hands over his stomach.

"Ah. Ahmed. Doing God's work. He's sent me many clients lately."

"Are you the mediator?" she asks again. She puts a hand in her coat pocket to rest her hand on the handle of her Asnan Hada.

"You can call me Omar. And you are?" he asks. She hesitates. Her grip tightens around the taser and she starts to inch her finger into the trigger guard.

"Madam, if you are here because you have that card, then you can trust me. And I deal in trust. It is how I stay in business. In fact, it's the only reason I stay in business. So please, take your hand off of your taser gun and relax," he says. He gets up with effort and goes to the electric tea kettle in the corner.

"And yes, I am the mediator. Chai, Miss...?" he says, turning with the kettle in his hand.

"Thea. And yes, I'll take some tea," she says. She takes her hand out of her coat.

"Very nice to meet you Thea," he says. He prepares a short crystal glass with red leaves and lots of sugar. He places a mint leaf in it and sets it on the desk in front of her, and one for himself. He blows on the tea to cool it, letting the air between them settle.

"So, Thea. What can I do for you?" he asks.

Thea's thoughts about her fantasy start to swirl in her head. She feels herself get slightly wet just with the thought of saying it out loud. She shuffles in her seat.

"I have a super dark fantasy. It's very dark. And very kinky. Probably not a request you get to coordinate very often," she says.

"Again, you have to trust me, my dear. People are very wound up in this day and age. Their fantasies are all over the place. I can almost guarantee you that I know someone who has a compatible urge. And I've arranged very complicated situations. Try me."

"Trusting you isn't the issue. It's trusting the people you'll connect me with. The ones to play this out," she says.

"Well, you're right. There is a risk. Especially if this fantasy of yours is as dark as you say. But we have safety precautions that we can instill. All included in the price of course. And, my clients always come back. The best clients are returning clients, as I always say. No point in them committing an unforgivable sin and closing such a rare door, eh?" He blows steam off his tea and takes a loud sip.

The wheels in Thea's head start to turn faster. She feels her body heat starting to rise against the cold of the night. She lets off part of her coat. The goosebumps form on her legs as she strokes them. The words to her fantasy start to make their way to her tongue.

"Alright Omar. I trust you," she says.

Omar sits back in his creaking chair and listens to her fantasy. He takes out a pen and paper and begins to make notes. As she continues, he nods more. By the time she's finished, the thrill of recounting what she wants and how she wants it has made her completely wet and halfway to an orgasm. She wants to touch herself but resists.

"Well Thea. You are very much in luck. I have the perfect match for you."

#The Stalking

Thea feels relief when she receives the instructions. They're delivered the old fashioned way: a physical paper letter. Stamp and all. She didn't need to read the directions more than once. They are seared in her mind. When she sets out in the evening for the event, she can hear Omars voice in her head, reading the directions to her just as he did in their office this morning in preparation.

'Go to Bulaq Ad Daqrur and walk west from the canal on Memfris street. '

She wears a set of high heels too high for her. They start to cut into her heels as she walks along the broken street. They're bright red and pop off of her black thigh highs, especially in the dim street lights. She feels they don't match, but she knew that they'd show. She feels shivers reach up her short skirt as she walks along several homes, most abandoned. The darkness rises within her chest and gives her the thrill that she's been craving. She feels exposed in this dark place, and she's ready to be taken. The nakedness under her coat of her skimpy dress is all the more emphasized without her taser.

'Soon, your selected stalker will start trailing you and walking behind you. He will be wearing a long black coat that almost hits the ground.'

She remembers the images, faces printed on old photos instead of using holo-projections. She felt it isn't enough to see full body, but when she saw the man with dark eyes and a fixed stern face, she knew that she wanted him.

She walks past a well lit corner going four ways. A taxi drives by as she walks around it. As her eyes trail the taxi, she sees the man with the long black coat that teases the ashen ground. He stands there, under the street light. He wears an opaque Tech HUD, obscuring his face as small neon lights dance across his screen. A glow of an artificial cigarette glows as he takes a gloved hand away and lets the smoke curl around the glass.

Instinctively, she turns down the street away from him. Her pussy starts to throb immediately. She starts to walk fast but then remembers herself and the plan. She stops, then turns back and keeps heading down Memfris street. She steals a look at her stalker. He watches her, unmoving, as she rounds the corner across from him and continues on her path.

Thea is so turned on that she forgets the cold. The pace of her clicking heels quickens.

'He will trail you for three blocks. After the third block, you will see a street with no name. It is a very bad street. But you are safe. Turning left means you lost your nerve and the scene is over. Turning right down that street is a sign of your consent. And if you turn right, he will continue to follow you.'

Thea's heart begins to pound in her chest as she starts to walk faster. Between the clicks of her heel, she can hear the scrape of his boots. She continues to walk, but he gains. The scrapes become louder. She almost misses the corner to turn. She stops. The boots keep coming. She looks left and then right as her breathing starts to become labored.

The rush is making her knees weak. The fear rises. She reaches into her skimpy coat, grasping for the Asnan Hada that isn't there. Her mind races with questions.

Is this real? Can I trust this? Am I going to be hurt?

But her questions are answered as Omars gentle voice sounds in her head once more.

'This ring will protect you. It tracks your location. If it leaves your finger at any time, Ahmed will be close by to come and rescue you to end the scene.'

She turns the ring on her finger as she stands in the intersection. She takes a deep breath through the mask, letting the filtered air clear her mind of the fear. Thea turns behind her to look at her stalker.

He's stopped a block away under one of the street lights. Both of his hands are in his coat. She feels goosebumps running all over her body again as her stalker stares at her, not moving.

He nods his head.

Thea takes another deep breath. The itch she has in her mind feels different. It's hard for her to explain at first, but something about the stalker's nod changes things for her. She's finally at the point where she can have her fantasy in exactly the way she wants it. In between these two cross roads, she'd finally arrived at a place she'd always wanted to be. As she realizes this, the itch in her mind feels its first satisfying scratch.

She turns right down the long street. Her stalker walks in chase.

#The Capture

This area is where your capture will take place. He will have help from two other men. One of them is Ahmed, but you will not know it. Feel free to make them work for it.

The street is dark and Thea is flanked by dilapidated homes that rise like splintered traps. Her stride starts to waiver as the heels and pain catch up with her. The boots of her stalker begin to get louder as he gains. Just as she reaches the middle of the block, a black van without its lights on turns and comes up the road. It parks just 20 feet in front of her. Two men in black coats get out.

Thea stops. The rush of fear that she so often fights against now climbs up into her body. It tells her to run, to fight these people coming to capture her. She's fought off grabbers before. She's no stranger to the wandering hands that she easily slaps hard enough to cause them pain. But the pain of being accosted has always stuck with her. But now, this time, it's because she wants it. The conflict in her mind makes her stammer, like a confused whore who's first trick on the street doesn't go as planned.

And she likes it enough that she's already dripping down into her thigh highs.

She turns up the street to see her stalker, black coat floating in the wind, stride up to her as if he already owns her.

"Hey pretty girl," says the stalker. His voice makes Theas jump and want to touch herself all at the same time. "Where you going?"

She looks to her left to see the other two coats approach her. She tries to run across the street, but her heels give her no purchase on the uneven ground.

"Nah uh," says the stalker. He runs to intercept her. The other two round the street to cut off her escape. She stops as they close in. Her greatest fear combined with her greatest fantasy combine into a stillness that makes her go completely weak. As she stands, the men slow their chase but slowly close in.

"So what's a pretty fuck doll like you doing in a slum like this?" Asks her stalker. She turns to see him and tries to pick out features of his face through the HUD, but she can't. Words don't form, just whimpers.

The stalker reaches out to touch her hair.

"You're a real slut, you know that? You know what I like to do to sluts like you?" he says.

As he touches her, his glove slides across her face. She recoils, then pushes his hand away. She moves away from him, only to be bumped into one of the other coats. A set of hands tries to grab at her waist and her breast. She resists, letting a hand tear part of her coat off of her shoulder.

"Come on now. You know you like it," the stalker says. He closes in, reaching a hand towards her breast and fondling her. She yelps. A half hearted slap hits his chest as she tries to push off. But now all three men have closed in. One restrains her arm, as does the other. The stalker gets to run his gloves up and down her body as she wiggles and struggles against them.

"You look like you want to have a good time. Come on boys, let's take her to a place where she can have a little more fun," he says.

All three laugh. Thea is lost in a mental concoction of adrenaline, fear, and dopamine that make her lose her will to resist. They drag her over to the van and press her against the door. A black bag makes it over her face, and she can see no more. She feels them grab her by the ankles and lift her into the van onto a pad. As the car starts, she feels two sets of hands bind her legs and her hands behind her back. It's duct tape.

She screams and yelps in defense, pleading for them to let her go. But as she does, a ball gag is placed on her mouth from outside of the black bag. All she can do is bite down, muffle her cries, and lay against the pad as the vehicle makes a turn down one of the streets. Her heart pounds in her chest.

Thank God this is finally happening, she thinks. She stops struggling, relieved, and rests on the pad to save her strength for later. The van drives on into the night.

#The Basement

'You will be kept in a basement in a place that feels far from where you are, but it is not. It will be in the type of environment that you requested. You will be bound and left for at least 30 minutes, no more than an hour. '

It's the anticipation that gets to Thea. She didn't think that, out of all of the sensations of the basement, that the waiting would be the most exciting part.

When she is dragged in and they take off the shroud, there isn't any difference in light. Everything is pitch black. They put the ball gag back in her mouth immediately.

But what she did perceive first is the smell. There's mildew in the air among the standard smog. As they sit her against a pole, she yelps at the cold water under her ass that quickly soaks her little black dress and her thigh highs. She lost a shoe in the struggle, and what remains is broken. She tries to resist for a moment, but all three men restrain her with rope. She's propped up with the rope, so that she is standing with her back against the pole, as well as her hands bound at the elbows as far as they can go.

She starts to shiver as they make final adjustments to the rope. There's a moment where they check to make sure it is not pinching her. As her eyes adjust in the dark, she recognizes safety ties that can be easily pulled in the event that they need to. At that, she relaxes fully into the ropes, feeling it bind her to the cold pole.

Then, they walk away.

Her eyes continue to adjust as she looks around. The basement is damp, mostly concrete, littered with construction equipment and boxes of tools.

A construction site she thinks. And she sees the very faint light coming from under the door. There's muffled conversation. She strains to listen.

What she can make out is very little. But Thea knows, based on the inflection in their voices, about what they're talking about. They're discussing what they want to do with her. She feels herself flush as she thinks of the possibilities of how the stalker might use her. How he might take her pussy or her ass and use her at his own free will, however he wants, with no say on her part.

The thoughts swirl into an ecstasy that starts to scratch that place in her mind. The place she'd been yearning for relief. As it satisfies, the want in her builds. She wants to be used. She wants him to come through that door. It makes her struggle against her bonds, twisting to feel the ropes and the restraint on her skin. She hears them laughing and clinking beer glasses.

God I can't wait for this. I want this. I need this, she thinks.

She starts to moan against the ball gag, calling out to them. It must sound like she's calling for help because it makes the men laugh. She feels the want growing more, just as the wetness within her pussy does.

#The Hypnosis

Your stalker will bring in the device you specified: aljins metronome. He will set it in the room and give you commands as it hypnotizes you. Since you are consenting to this, the hypnosis will take rather quickly and be very powerful.

By the time her stalker opens the door, Thea is wiggling in an excitement brought on by the biggest adrenaline dump she's ever had. The fear, combined with the pleasure, at seeing this backlit man in the doorway about to molest her to his liking, makes her moan uncontrollably.

The man still has the HUD over his face. Red and blue lights flicker against the glass as he drags in the machine. It's a metallic box with a screen perched atop of it. He sets it a few feet in front of her, then looks at her with his arms crossed. She moans and resists more as he watches, yearning for him to take her.

He grabs her by the top of her hair and makes her look at him. Thea gets to see his eyes through the glass for the first time.

"Hello my little fuck toy," he says. The itch in her brain is scratched more. The satisfaction builds inside her. She moans more.

"I can't wait to fuck you how I like. It's not too often that I get a sweet piece of ass like you. And I'm really going to take my time and make sure that you get me off. Several times. Do you like that?" he asks.