The Trap is Sprung Ch. 01

The alley was eerily dark, illuminated by only moonlight. The industrial part of town had been largely abandoned since the economy crashed, and few of the warehouse owners had considered it worthwhile to pay an electric bill for an empty building.

Vanessa, Erika, and Michael walked quickly down the alley, hugging one shadowed wall. Michael carried a heavy set of bolt cutters in one hand.

The three were students at the city's university. Vanessa and Erika had been high school friends. Erika met Michael six months ago. They'd started fucking almost immediately, but had only been "officially" dating for the past four months.

The three had bonded quickly over their shared belief that the primary, if not sole, purpose of college was partying. But they'd grown bored of the usual alcohol-fueled frat parties and decided they needed something bigger. Something where the music could blast as loud as their eardrums could handle. Something were Molly and coke wouldn't land you in trouble with campus police. Something where the party could rage for as long as everyone's legs kept them standing. A rave. They'd already found a DJ willing to work for cheap. Now they just needed a discrete location, and an abandoned warehouse would be a perfect fit.

The trio stopped in front of the gate to a chain-link fence held secure by padlock. Michael struggled to cut the lock with the bolt cutters and Erika teased, "Looks like someone's not spending enough time at the gym."

"You're welcome to try," Michael grumbled before the lock finally snapped with a loud crack. "After you, ladies," he announced proudly, sliding the gate open.

Vanessa passed through first, then Erika. Michael gave Erika an affectionate slap on the ass as she passed. She looked back at him and rolled her eyes, but also grinned. Michael grinned back, imagining what else he'd do to that ass later tonight, then he followed the girls through the gate.

Surprisingly, the door to the warehouse building itself was unlocked. They all slipped inside before turning on their flashlights. It was pretty much what they'd expected--concrete floor, high ceilings, a lot of empty space. Specks of dust floated through the air, illuminated by their flashlight beams. The half-hearted attempt at keeping trespassers out made sense with nothing there to steal.

"This place is a dump. It's perfect," Vanessa said enthusiastically.

"I don't know," Erika cut in. "The music is going to be loud. I'd really love to find somewhere with a basement. We don't know if a security guard ever drives through here. If we get caught trespassing while everyone is drunk and high, we're pretty fucked."

"Alright, alright," Vanessa conceded. "Let's look around. It might have a basement."

The three fanned out with their flashlights looking for doorways that could lead to a lower level. A minute later the sound of a metal scraping on concrete echoed through the cavernous room. "Got something," Erika shouted. "Stairs."

"Go check it out," Michael answered.

"You can fuck right off if you think I'm going down there by myself," Erika answered.

Michael chuckled. "Need a big strong man to protect you?" he teased.

"Go fuck yourself," Erika answered with no real anger in her voice.

"I'd rather I had some help with that," Michael retorted.

"Men," Erika grunted. "Get you're ass over here. Come on Vanessa."

Vanessa was shining her flashlight on the far wall of the warehouse. "You guys go ahead. Someone tagged the wall over here. I want to see how old the paint looks. Don't need high school kids coming here to smoke weed while we're trying to party. I'll be right behind you."

"Hurry up," Erika answered. Then the light from her and Michael's flashlights disappeared through the doorway.

Vanessa walked along the wall, shining her light on the graffiti. Most of it was the usual--a gang logo here, a giant dick there. She paused when her light hit something unusual painted in a eerie green that seemed to glow unnaturally in the light. Curious, she walked closer.

Vanessa stared at the graffiti--or rather the art. Up close, it was clear someone talented had put a lot of effort into creating the image. Fine lines painted in the otherworldly green flowed like beautiful calligraphy, twisting and curving to form an intricate mandala-like pattern that coalesced into a circle that covered a large section of wall. Vanessa didn't recognize the language of the text, nor the symbol it formed, but it still somehow felt familiar. It meant something. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she was certain it did. She could feel it. Despite its foreignness, the meaning somehow felt as if it were right on the tip of her tongue... just barely out of reach. The answer was somewhere in her mind, she was sure. She just had to find it.

Vanessa was too deep in thought to notice when her knees hit the cement floor. She continued intently studying the symbol, craning her neck to look up at it from the ground. What does it mean? The question was quickly becoming an obsession. She had to know. Without thinking, Vanessa's hand reached beneath her shirt, sliding up under her bra and cupping her breast. Is it something I've seen in School? No, that's not it. Her hand gently kneaded the soft tissue of her breast, and her nipple grew firm between two fingers. She was lost in thought and oblivious to the actions of her own body.

For an excited moment, she thought she had it. It's more than a message. It's... it's... What is it? Her unoccupied hand drifted downward, finding the button on her jeans and clumsily unfastening it. An instruction! It's an instruction! But that didn't feel quite right either. Her hand slid into her jeans and beneath her panties, stopping with a finger resting against her clit. A command! She felt a sudden clarity. Her finger slowly circled her clit as her other hand firmly squeezed her breast.

What does it want? She'd never felt this focused in her life. She could sense the command was urgent. Her jaw hung slack as she stared up at the wall. A finger pressed into her already slick pussy. Then two. The palm of her hand rubbed against her clit as her fingers plunged in and out.

What do you want me to do? she thought, growing desperate. She needed to understand. She was certain this was the most critical moment of her life. She just needed to understand why! A thin line of drool escaped her open mouth and fell onto her shirt unnoticed. Please, she begged. Tell me what to do!

"Vanessa! Where the fuck are you?" Erika's shout echoed through the building. As if a spell had been broken, Vanessa blinked and turned away from the wall. Where am I? Right, the warehouse. Why am I on my knees? Suddenly she became aware of her hands, one cupping her breast and the other shoved down her paints. What the fuck! She pulled her hands out from her clothing. The fingers of her right hand were slick with her own juices. What the fuck! she repeated in her head.

"Vanessa, you alright?" Erika shouted, sounding concerned. The light from their flashlights shone dimly through the door to the stairs.

Vanessa stood and wiped her fingers on her jeans. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright," she shouted back shakily. She walked toward the door to meet her friends.

A moment later Erika and Michael emerged through the door. "Could you not hear me?" Erika asked.

"No. I mean, yes. Sorry. I... got distracted," stammered Vanessa.

Erika gave Vanessa a sideways glance, noting her friend's flushed face, even in the dim light. But if Vanessa didn't want to talk about whatever she'd found, Erika wasn't going to press her.

"So," Vanessa continued, recovering a bit of composure. "We in business?"

"No," answered Michael. "There's some kind of trap door down there that looks like it could lead to a basement, but the lock is too big to cut."

"Mr. Muscles over here means he was too weak to cut it," teased Erika.

"No one is strong enough to cut that," responded Michael defensively. "Whatever is down there, they're way more serious about keeping people out."

"Alright, let's get the fuck out of here for now then," Vanessa said. "It's getting late."

"There's another place across the street we could try," Michael suggested.

Sensing Vanessa's discomfort, Erika jumped in. "Nah, this place is creepy. I can only take so much in one night. Aren't you ready to get me home, Michael?" She winked.

Michael needed no more convincing. "Yeah, let's get out of here," he agreed.

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It was 2 A.M. when Vanessa made it home. Enough time to squeeze in an hour or two of gaming. She sat down at her desk and logged in, but she gave up 20 minutes later after getting absolutely demolished in a couple rounds. She was too distracted. She couldn't shake the image of the graffiti from her mind, and she still had no idea why she'd started masturbating to it. Beautiful as it was, she'd noticed nothing erotic about it. It was unsettling, to say the least. Hoping she hadn't lost her mind, she took a deep puff from her vape pen and moved over to the bed. She was exhausted. She'd been smoking a lot lately, and god knew it it had been a while since she'd had a decent fuck. Maybe she'd just spaced out and let some repressed urges seep out. She vowed to cut back on the weed as she drifted off to sleep.

She found no rest in her dreams. As soon as her eyelids shut, she was back in the warehouse, but things looked different this time. The entire room was dimly lit in an unnatural green light that matched the color of the graffiti. Vanessa approached the spot she'd found herself kneeling earlier that night and once again saw the strange, delicate script painted on the wall. However, instead of forming a circle, the script spiraled outward into a thin, waiving line that followed the wall.

Vanessa followed the text along the wall to the door where Erika had found the stairs. The meaning of the script felt clearer now. It beckoned her, urged her to follow where it led. As she walked, Vanessa became increasingly aware of how horny she was. She caught her hand drifting toward the button on her jeans again and stopped herself, determined to fight the impulse.

When Vanessa reached the door, she swung it open and saw the script continued down the stairs on the other side. She followed it down the staircase and into a small room, where she found the trap door Michael had mentioned. It was locked, just as he'd said. But the script didn't lead through the trap door. Instead, it curved down to a point where the wall met the floor. She looked closer and spotted small key. She picked it up and approached the trap door. The key slid easily into the lock, which popped open when she turned it. She slid the lock off the trap door and paused. Did she really want to go in? The script on the wall seemed to somehow urge her on.

Feeling not entirely in control of her own body, Vanessa reached down and grabbed the trap door's handle, then pulled the door open. Green light flooded her vision, impossibly bright. Instantly, her mind was flooded with pleasure. She was overwhelmed by it. It felt like an explosion inside her brain. Her body was wracked by a sudden orgasm that did not subside. Her knees went weak and she dropped to the floor, holding her head between her hands. Conflicting thoughts streamed through her mind. This has to stop, I can't take anymore! It can't stop, I need it! I have to escape! This is the best moment of my life! She could feel her body, curled up on the ground, convulsing in orgasm after orgasm, as if she was having a seizure. She screamed in a mix of shock and ecstasy.

Vanessa's eyes shot open. She was awake. In her own bed. She gasped for air, her body still twitching. She was soaked in sweat and the room reeked of sex. Her panties were soaked through. What the fuck is happening to me? she asked herself.

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Vanessa might has well have not gone to class the next day. She couldn't focus anyways. Her mind kept drifting back to the symbol she'd seen in the warehouse and the overwhelming pleasure she'd felt during her dream. The experiences had a hold over her, and that scared her. Her certainty that the graffiti held some important meaning had never stopped nagging at her. And she'd been incredibly horny since she woke from her dream that morning. She'd never felt anything like she'd felt during the dream before, not from sex, not from masturbating, not from all the different drugs she'd tried. She wanted another taste. Is is possible to get addicted to something from a dream? she wondered.

Vanessa's professor rambled off some pointless fact about quasars. Why do I need to take general electives for a degree in computer programming? she wondered for the hundredth time. Her right hand scribbled away as her mind drifted back to the graffiti. The fingers of her left hand had already slipped an inch beneath the waistline of her jeans before she caught herself. What the fuck! This can't keep happening! They'll kick me out of school if I'm caught getting off in an astronomy lecture!

Disgusted with herself, Vanessa looked down at her notes and nearly jumped out of her seat. She'd written nothing the professor had said. Instead, she'd sketched out half the image from the warehouse. The now familiar script formed a half-completed circle. The portion she'd finished was a near-perfect replica. How it that possible?! I have the artistic talent of a toddler. How could I have drawn something this intricate from memory? Without even realizing what I was doing?

Vanessa glanced around nervously and froze when she saw the girl sitting next to her was staring at the drawing, her eyes glazed over and her lips parted. Vanessa lost her train of thought. She stared at the girl's slack face, admiring her large brown eyes and plump lips. She watched as the girl's ample chest rose and fell steadily with each breath. Vanessa licked her lips. This is hot. Somehow Vanessa knew the girl was pliable right now, open to suggestion. If I told her to, she'd follow me home. I could see what she's hiding under that shirt. I could feel those lips on my.... What the fuck! I don't even like girls!

Vanessa tore the sheet of paper from her notebook and crumpled it into a ball. The girl beside her blinked, looking suddenly confused. Vanessa didn't stick around to chat. She hurriedly shoved her belongings into her backpack and left.

As she marched out of the building, she made up her mind. I have to go back to the warehouse. Alone. The thought of returning terrified her, but also enticed her. She couldn't go on living like this. She had to find out what was happening to her, solve the mystery. And she couldn't bring Erika or Michael. What was she supposed to tell them? That graffiti had turned her into a sex addict?

There was no point putting it off. She'd go now, while it was still light. If she got caught trespassing, so be it. Maybe the cops would know something about the graffiti.

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An hour later, Vanessa parked her car outside the warehouse. She sat there with the still engine running, hands clenched on the wheel. Do I really want to do this? she wondered. Whatever is happening to me started in there. I could make it worse. In the end, she decided she didn't want to go... but she had no choice. It had been less than 24 hours and her life was already starting to fall apart. Even now, sitting in the car, she felt an urge to reach into her pants and start finger fucking herself. She couldn't live with being horny constantly.

Reluctantly, Vanessa got out of the car. The warehouse didn't seem as foreboding in daylight. Just an empty building. When she reached the gate, she found no one had bothered re-locking it. The door to the building was still unlocked too.

As Vanessa entered, she felt excitement mix with apprehension. As nervous as she was, she looked forward to another opportunity to puzzle out the script's meaning. She'd felt so close before and it still bugged her. She approached the wall bearing the symbol, keeping her eyes deliberately on the ground. I could still turn around. But with each step, more of her nervousness slipped away. It somehow felt right to be back.

When the bottom of the wall came into view, she hesitated one final moment, then took a deep breath and looked up. There it was, just as she'd remembered. All thoughts of doubt vanished. She was meant to be here. She'd never really had a choice. The symbol had commanded it, and it could not be disobeyed.

Having already battered down her defenses over the past day, the symbol now bored straight into her mind. The meaning was immediately clear, as plain as if it had been written out in English. It seemed impossible the message had escaped her before.

Her mind a haze, Vanessa walked the same path she'd taken in her dream. With a sensation of deja vu, she opened the door the staircase. She took out a flashlight and switched it on. Come. The thought entered her mind as an image of the graffiti flashed before her eyes. It was not a request.

As she descended, Vanessa began to strip off her clothes. She unzipped her leather jacket and pulled her arms free of the sleeves, discarding it on the stairs. She pulled her shirt over her head and let it fall to the ground. With one hand, she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, then slipped the straps off her shoulders. The air was cool, and her nipples stiffened, but Vanessa paid the unpleasant sensation no mind. She was focused in her task.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, she paused to kick off her shoes and pull off her jeans and panties. Her sex glistened with arousal.

Naked, she looked down at the ground where she'd seen the key in her dream. It was there, just as she'd dreamed it. As before, she slid the key into the lock and turned it. She reached down and gripped the trap door's handle. Her body shook with anticipation. In her dream, she'd found pleasure greater than she'd ever imagined behind this door. And she knew she would again. Some small part of her understood she should feel afraid, but she didn't. The script told her not to worry, so she did not worry. She opened the door. This time, there was no blinding light, only more stairs. She didn't hesitate before following them down into the darkness.

Vanessa found herself in a large, dark room. She made her best guess at where the center was and walked to it, then dropped to her knees. She carefully placed the flashlight on the ground, the light pointing up at the ceiling so that it dimly illuminated the room. Yes, this was what the symbol had commanded. She felt a deep contentment. Her arousal had only grown, and the insides of her pale thighs were wet with her own juices. But she was meant to be horny; she would not pleasure herself. She folded her hands behind her back, arching her back and thrusting her chest forward for display.

"Ahhhh," spoke a deep, gravely voice from somewhere behind Vanessa. "I see the trap my last thrall set before her unfortunate demise paid off after all." A chill went up Vanessa's spine. There was something deeply unsettling about that voice. Relax. An image of the graffiti flashed though her mind. You belong here. She shoved aside her unease and resumed her placid smile.

"Another lamb to slaughter," the voice continued. Slaughter? Vanessa felt a wave of panic flood through her and began to turn her head toward the voice. Again the image flashed through her mind. PRESENT. OBEY. She recoiled at the force of the command. There was no longer any pretense that she was in control of herself. She straightened her posture, thrust out her chest and smiled pleasantly. But beneath the facade her doubts grew. Present for who? Why do I need the be naked? She swallowed hard as the disconnect between her thoughts and her body's actions became apparent. She willed her legs to stand up, but they wouldn't move.