Right now, you just want to go home...

"Home..." you manage to squeak out, your throat feeling painfully dry. His smile widens, twisted and unnerving.

"Did you drive here?"

You shake your head hurriedly, eyes closed and face turned away. He puts his arm around your back, hand settling firmly against your hip at such an angle that he could easily be groping your ass at any moment. He leads you outside of the theater, kissing your cheek as you pass a couple of ushers.

"Lucky bastard..." one of them mutters to the other.

"Nah, with that guy, she's just some gold digger," the other comments back. "Probably one of those annoying bimbo princesses."

As soon as the two fall out of earshot, the old man brings his lips towards your ear again.

"Would you like that?" he whispers, giving your ass a slight squeeze as you near the front lobby of the theater. Great. He's showing you off to everyone who might be around. You can only pray that no one you know will be there and recognize you. "Would you like to be my little princess?" You swallow hard, trying not to meet anyone's eyes. As you continue on, you become painfully aware of the cooled air tickling the bottoms of your breasts as your shirt rode up again. "I'd lavish you with gifts, money. I don't have a wife or any children, and I've amassed a bit of a fortune over the course of my life." You shiver as he pushes open the front doors, not taking his hand off you as he guides you out the door. "Everything can be yours. I'd even leave it all to you in my will. If you were a good little princess." You can't find your voice as he chuckles quietly, giving your ass another squeeze as he directs you through the parking lot.

You blink as he comes up to what apparently is his car. It's a gorgeous silver Jaguar convertible, shiny and spotless as if it was brand new. You almost can't believe it, but when he hits the unlock button on his keys, the sports car responds. He leads you, jaw-dropped and eyes sparkling with aw, towards the passenger's seat, guiding you down into the vehicle and closing the door behind you before hurrying to the driver's side.

"Don't forget your seatbelt, Princess," he says as he takes his place behind the wheel, fastening his own seatbelt and locking the doors. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to your sexy body, now, would we?" Your trance broken, you slowly, tremulously pull the seatbelt across your body and fasten it in place. He gives you that satisfied, predatory smile once again before starting the car and carefully pulling out of the parking lot. You swallow hard despite your mouth being dry. There seems to be no getting out of this one. He didn't even ask where you live. So now you're on your way to this creepy, perverted old man's house where he lives all alone after already having had sex with him, after giving him your virginity, in the middle of a dark movie theater.

As he hit the fairly empty highway, he kicked the Jag into gear, speeding away passed the suburbs going at least 110 mph. You find yourself pressing back into the seat, holding tightly to the arm rests. He places his right hand on your left, flashing you what is meant to be a reassuring grin. He looks back to the road too soon to notice the terror in your eyes. It soon becomes clear that he lives quite a ways out of town.

You have a sinking sensation of nausea settling in your stomach. You try to take your mind off the situation as much as possible, closing your eyes and focusing your attention on the radio as much as possible. Instead, it's almost as if your mind is going totally blank instead, all thought disappearing. Absently, you find yourself thinking back on the way this man had made your body feel. It had been the most amazing thing you had ever thought. Despite yourself, a small smile crawls onto your face, your eyes opening to stare out the window dreamily, your body finally relaxing as the faint pop tunes dance about your head. He also said he would spend lots of money on you. Could you imagine how many shoes you could buy? You could probably replace your entire wardrobe to be more like what you're wearing right now.

Suddenly, you shake yourself. What were you thinking about just now? You can't seem to remember. Oh, well. It probably wasn't that important, anyway. However, you now remember your situation, all of tension flying back into your muscles. How do you know, really, that this guy won't do something terrifyingly fucked up to you? What if he chains you up in his basement and keeps you there without any sunlight, minimal food and water, and just constantly rapes you? What if he's some sort of serial killer, and you're going to be his next victim? What if he pimps you out somewhere, or Shang-hais you somewhere far away? What if he forces you into marriage, or sells you off for marriage, and you spend the rest of your life getting fucked and pumping out babies? What if--?