The Alley (Stockholm Syndrome Path)

John tossed Carrie's phone out the window, with it smashing against the pavement hard. Carrie opened the door at the same time.

"Stop it! Cunt!" he said, reaching out to grasp at her. He got her panties, which tore as she made it out. She rolled along the pavement, skinning her knees and elbows.

Fuck, she thought. No phone, no clothes, no car, and now no panties. She ran to the alley, hiding as she watched John drive back, looking for his prey. She hid behind a dumpster as she drove off.

Three men approached her. Carrie looked fearful.

"Please, no no no..."

***

She wasn't sure how long had passed. She felt like she'd been ferried from stash house to stash house. Never for more than a few days. She'd been fucked. Often. Big cocks, small cocks. Oddly, they always wore protection. And they all spoke Spanish.

After what felt like weeks, she had been moved again, this time into the back of a trailer truck, and transported again. She suspected she was being smuggled across the border.

Finally, the hood was removed. She was in a small room, with a bed and a toilet and a sink. The door was locked, in multiple ways it seemed. She was alone.