The terrified abductee heard the sound of the lock turning in the bolt just like she had heard last night. But in truth she had no idea what day it could be or even what time of day. It would appear that her abductor was going to keep her just on the verge of a drugged haze. As the door softly opened he entered the room carrying a tray of food. She stood up abruptly and made her way from the bed toward the side of the room furthest from him. Did he really expect her to eat anything he prepared? For all she knew it was poisoned and this could be her last supper. He entered and smiled shyly at her. Why the hell was he looking at her expectantly as he closed the door and put the key into a corresponding dead bolt on this side of the her prison? He shuffled his feet and bent his head coyly, still holding the tray he looked at her reverently through the fringe of his sandy blonde hair.

Was she supposed to start the conversation? Well she did need answers. She wondered what he would say in reply to the question she really wanted to ask. What have you done with my son you sick fuck? Fortunately for her, she chose the less confrontational route.

"Can you tell me what time it is?"

"Well." he spoke so softly as to almost be inaudible. "It's breakfast time of course Susan."

He held up the tray as he said this and moved into the room. Toward a nineteen fifties TV tray that had a glossy painting of two deer drinking from a placid lake, he unfolded it and placed the breakfast tray on top and patted the bed side for her to come and eat. When she moved further back from the man she saw a flash of what looked like hurt in his eyes. The man was an enigma. She was feeling the way she had done when he had spent the time in her house. He was so quite there had been times when she had forgotten that he was there, but she would almost jump out of her skin when he would suddenly appear behind her with that soft spoken voice asking her if she wanted more of this color of that on the walls. He was also so polite that he wore clothed booties like they did in the hospitals over his shoes so that he didn't get her floor dirty. He had seemed so shy and self-deprecating that she had felt sorry for him and had talked to him out of pity. He had tricked her with his I'm a hurt soul act, and she wasn't falling for it again.

Susan Winter's was not just a mother she was a paralegal. She dealt with the world of cold hard facts and in her world it was always easier to deal with the results if you knew all the parameters.

"Look we both know you've got me." She spread her hands out wide indicating the locked room that they stood in.

"But why should I follow the sick games you want to play."

She noticed a flash of irritation as he walked towards her in the room. She leapt back unable to escape as she had run out of room in which to back up in. He tried to gently grasp her elbow, but she jerked it out of his grasp.

The really scary as shit stuff was that his voice only got louder by a very small degree.

"Please do not worry although I may seem irritated, I am not yet angry. I understand what a hard last ten hours you've had. Well Susan, since you have chosen forth rightness. Allow me to explain myself."

Susan began to worry that she had made a mistake, but she would rather have him off guard and angry, than calm and in control.

He walked to the Louis the fourteenth vanity dressing table and patted the frilly pink cushion atop a quaint little chair. This time his face was set into stern lines and his patting of the seat told her that he wouldn't brooch anymore objections.

Slowly she walked over to the settee and lowered herself down in front of the mirror. She thought she was doing well hiding her fears; until she saw her reflection staring back at her, her face was pale and her eyes looked like her pupils were trying to swallow the irises. But it was the look of wide eyed terror in her eyes that had her convinced that no matter the bravado of her words, the man, unless he was blind, could see just as clearly that she was scared witless.

She watched him bend over in front of her and reach for the silver handled brush. He began to bring the brush down gently through her fine hair. She flinched despite herself. He was careful to brush all the tangles out at the bottom before he started making long rhythmic stokes from the crown of her head to the tips of her hair, bringing the shine back into the golden locks. She watched him as he methodically combed the brush through time and time again. He locked his gaze with her through the mirror, and as he spoke, she was unable to look away

"Susan I have need of you and it would appear that you have need of me. As you know I was in your house last night. I chloroformed you, bundled you into a tarp and carried you out to my van and then I brought you here where you belong. But what you don't know is that I have your son."

It was at this time that she heard the soft mewing of her infant son coming from the room outside her locked door. It was amazing that she had not heard him at all the night before, but maybe the psycho had drugged him too. That was her son's I'm hungry cry and her body immediately reacted to the soft mewing by hardening her nipple and filling her breasts with milk. She tried to jump from the settee but his hand fisted into the hair at the nape of her neck jerking her back onto the chair painfully. Wrapping her hair around his fist he pulled forcefully bending her head back to look up at him. She could barely focus on his face through the watering of her eyes at the pain he was inflicting, and the horror of the knowledge that he indeed had her son. But what she could see was that he was breathing rapidly and his eye looked hard as stone. Stay calm Susan. He's got Cameron. Just do whatever he wants. He mustn't hurt her little boy.

"Please don't hurt him. He's only a baby," she cried.

"Well that depends on you Susan. From the moment I saw you I knew you would be perfect for me and it isn't my intention to hurt your son. In fact I envy him to have such a devoted loving mother that would do anything for him. That is what I want Susan. I want you to be my mother. You need only to hold me and whisper soft loving words to me. I want you to give me your love just like I was your very own son. So that I, like Cameron, can experience for a short while the loving mother that you are. Once again he started the rhythmic brushing, but this time every stroke was excruciating against her fiery scalp.

She looked up in the mirror to see him not looking at her face but at the front of her silk gown that was now wet with the milk that was leaking out of her nipples in response to the sound of her son cry to nurse.

Swallowing the lump in her throat she pushed the fear down at what would be done to her. But it didn't matter, she would do anything. This was bigger than her body, bigger than her life. She must keep Cameron safe. Fearful that her words would anger him again she forced her face to soften as she looked at him lovingly through the mirror and asked, "Is Cameron alright my darling."

She watched as his face lit up and he sat down on the settee beside her grasping her hand and kissing it.

"Your son is fine and he has already fed as you can hear he's stopped crying".

She could no longer hear Cameron in the outer room and she could only pray he had fallen asleep.

"Although your son is fine you are not. I hear that breast milk letting down can make a mother's breast feel tender and it can get even more painful if ignored. The abductors eyes remained glued to her leaking chest as he lowered himself to a kneeling position before her.

Slowly he pulled her wet robe and negligee aside. He sat at her engorged breast staring at the tiny blue veins running delicately through them, and watched transfixed as one perfect milky bead of breast milk dropped out of her nipples and ran down her full bosom.

"May I have some milk Mommy?"

"Any...anything you ask my precious one.' Susan stammered as she swallowed the bile that had risen to the back of her throat.

To her credit none of her revulsion showed on her face as she screamed inside her own head when he lowered his mouth to her nipple. Latching on like a hungry infant, he began to suckle the milk from her breast while his eye locked on hers. Susan sat frozen watching him pull on her nipple to draw the milk from her body that belongs to her son and her heart broke. Slowly, a single tear trickled down her face unnoticed by the grotesque creature, her newborn abomination was feeding greedily.

I warned you it would be disturbing at times. Please continue reading though. It won't always be like this. If you like it, even though it is revolting. Don't forget to vote, comment, add it to your library or suggest it to a friend. 

Cheers Deborah