The Captive

The captor guided the captive to a door off the stage. Their touch was surprisingly gentle as they ushered the captive through and onto a plain wooden chair. "Your clothes are here to get dressed. You may then leave to enjoy the rest of your evening. If you want to attend as a performer again, you must fill out another form and pay your fee as you did before -- there's a 20% discount for returning customers," the captor explained, their voice void of the earlier theatricality.

The captive stared up at their captor, their mind still blank after the sensory rush. "Oh, and here's your photo. On the house", the captor said before dropping a Polaroid onto the captive's bare knee and returning to the stage through the door. A renewed sense of confusion filled the captive as they thought through the evening's events -- that they had willingly paid a small fortune to be subjected to this experience.

Surrounded by silence, the captive grasped the photo and stood slowly to pull on their jeans and jumper, each movement revealing sore muscles as a physical reminder of the night. Their body and mind were exhausted, yet buzzing with a jumble of emotions. The captive glanced down at the photo in their hands. A barely recognisable form was displayed: strapped tight, exposed and vulnerable, a modern day Vitruvian figure. They smiled, hugging the picture to their chest.

Before leaving the changing room, a pull of curiosity drew them back to glance through the window in the door and back towards the stage. The curtains were still closed, and a new scene was being prepared for the second half of the show. A figure was being led onto the stage by the captor. The figure was clad in a close-fitting leather hood that completely enclosed their face. The subject's eyes were obscured, but their mouth was uncovered and held open by an O-ring gag.

The new subject's arms were bound securely behind their back, and they were being guided by a leash fastened to a collar around their neck. The wooden frame previously used to restrain the captive had been wheeled off stage and replaced by scaffolding poles. The captor began the process of securing the new subject to the scaffolding, bending them forwards over a horizontal bar, their feet still on the floor but spread wide, their arms held behind them and their head pulled back so that their open mouth faced forwards.

The captive watched for a moment, a sense of relief washing over them. They were no longer the centre of attention; the audience would now have a new focus, a new subject who would soon be experiencing the intense sensations and emotions they had just endured.

With a small, knowing smile, the captive turned away from the window. Their performance was over, and now it was time for them to step back into their own life, leaving behind the stage, the lights, and the audience. They didn't linger to watch the new scene unfold; their own experience was still too fresh, too raw.

Stepping out into the cool night air, the captive felt a surreal shift back to normality. The outside world had no idea of what had happened on the stage, and they could return to the pretence of being a 'normal' person. The experience had been a dive into a hidden part of themselves, a journey that left them with more questions than answers. As they walked away, they knew the memory of the night would burn bright inside them, but must remain hidden from the world they lived in. Only the captor and the unseen audience shared their story -- and who knew when they might meet again...