“Please, is there any other detail you can remember? A sound, a smell, anything at all?” Detective Diane Annberg had been down this road several times before in the last few months. The young detective had a great track record, but this was the case that she just couldn’t crack.

“I’ve already told you, detective, I don’t remember. I wish I could help, I really do.”

It took everything Diane had not to audibly sigh and put her head in her hands in front of the latest victim. She’d run up against dead end after dead end, and she was at her limits. Megan had been through enough, and she was genuinely sorry she couldn’t be more help, so Diane put on a consoling smile, put her hand on the woman’s shoulder, and thanked her, reminding her to call if her if anything new came to mind.

Megan stood at the door, her hand frozen on the knob. “How do I know they won’t come back?”

“I’ll have a security detail put out front of your apartment. I assure you, you’re safe now,” the detective said.

Diane slumped into her chair the moment Megan left. She was the eighth victim to come forward, all young woman who’d been drugged and raped over the past two months. They all told similar stories, hazy memories of a masked captor sexually tormenting them before waking up bound and gagged in their own beds a day, sometimes two, later. There was no DNA evidence on any of the victims nor in any of their homes, though toxicology reports came up positive for chloroform, which had the oh-so-helpful site effect of short term memory loss. Their was no connection between the victims other than that they were all women. No consistent age range, background or socioeconomic status among the victims either.

She picked up a coffee on her way home. Late nights at work bled into late nights at home trying to crack the case. There had to be something she was missing. All the stories were unhelpfully vague, with no concrete details about the serial kidnapper. Frustrated, she brushed back her shoulder length red hair and put her headphones in as she walked down her block and started replaying the victims’ statements for the umpteenth time, hoping there had to be some detail she overlooked.

Over and over, “I’m sorry,” and “I don’t remember.” She sympathized with the victims; they really did want to help, but her sympathy was outweighed by her agitation with each additional victim that came forward, and each time she couldn’t solve it she knew there would be another.

She skipped to the end of the recording as she got off the elevator on her floor. “How do I know they won’t come back?” the terrified victim’s voice echoed in her ears. So far the kidnapper had not gone after the same victim twice, and she didn’t think it likely; it didn’t fit the profile.

The perp wasn’t your typical rapist. The victims all showed minimal bruising. Even when they were abducted, they displayed no signs of struggle.

She rewound the recordings a few seconds. “How do I know they won’t come back?”

“They,” Diane muttered. Megan wasn’t the first victim to use gender neutral pronouns. What if they weren’t just being politically correct and they actually just didn’t know the gender of their kidnapper? The police assumed the perp was a man, but if it was a woman, it would explain some of the inconsistencies in their profile. All the victims let their guards down and were taken so smoothly because they weren’t wary of a woman.

Her mind went into overdrive. They’d wasted so much time looking down dead ends, but if it was a woman, the whole case changed. A female serial kidnapper and rapist was demonstrating control on a whole different level.

Detective Diane Annberg, given her sudden revelation, might have looked at the other woman in the hall carrying a laundry basket with more suspicion. Unfortunately for her, that same revelation had her distracted so completely she didn’t even see the woman walk up behind her, reaching into her basket. Diane was too eager to get inside and get back to work. The revelation was solid, but she wanted more behind her theory before she brought it to her captain.

“You know your lips move when you’re thinking, detective,” a sultry voice whisper in her ear as she was grabbed from behind, a strong yet feminine arm clamping a moist white cloth over her mouth and nose.

“Mmmmph!” Diane drew her gun from her holster at her side, but just as quick her assailant’s other arm grabbed the handle and released the clip, kicking it into the apartment as it fell.

“As much fun as I was having watching you put the pieces together, let’s cover those luscious lips for a little bit, shall we?”

Diane threw her elbow back, but her attacker was ready, nimbly sidestepping the blow while still keeping the cloth over Diane’s face.

Her attacker could wait; Diane knew she had to get the cloth off of her face. She’d already taken a deep breath before she registered that it was chloroform. If the kidnapper managed to knock her out, it was over. She tried to spin out of her grasp, but the woman seemed to anticipate the move, jumping on her back. The sudden extra weight caught Diane off guard and her knees buckled. Diane threw her hands out, grabbing the doorframe to steady herself. She didn’t see the kick to the backs of her knees coming, and she crumpled forward, only to have her attacker yank her head back.

Diane sucked in another lungful of the sleep inducing chemical, her vision immediately swimming before her. All of her training, her instincts, they meant nothing. She’d let her guard down for one second and that was all her attacker needed.

“Keep breathing for me, detective,” the kidnapper commanded, gripping the cloth tighter over Diane’s face while she held her arms at bay. “Deep breaths. I need you to take a nice, long nap for me.”

Diane shook her head, trying to break her grip, but her attacker was relentless. Her lungs burned, and she sucked in another deep breath of chloroform.

“Don’t fight it. Just breath in my chloroform and go to sleep.”

Diane mumbled sleepily into the chloroform cloth, her green eyes blinking slowly.

“There’s a good girl, lights out, detective.” Diane went limp in her arms and the kidnapper quickly drug her inside the sleeping detective’s apartment. She grabbed her laundry hamper and Diane’s gun and clip from the hall, and after shutting the door she got to work. She fished a few things out of her basket, souvenirs from her previous victims. A pair of panties from her first victim ever, a petite brunette that had caught her fancy at a college dorm that had looked absolutely adorable in the skimpy light blue panties that fit perfectly in her newest catch’s mouth. The pantyhose tied tightly between Diane’s teeth were from a pretty 30-something manager at a department store she shopped at. A pair of legwarmers, from her most recent victim, Megan, who Detective Annberg had mere hours ago assured that she would catch her kidnapper, bound her wrists and ankles.

With her latest toy all trussed up and out cold, the kidnapper searched her, running her hands up her denim clad legs, in case she had a concealed weapon. She’d do a much more, thorough, search later. She took out the detectives phone, setting it aside, but pocketed her keys. Finding nothing else of interest, she set about the next part of her plan, getting the unconscious cop out of her apartment. Even though the victims always woke up in their own homes, Diane had suspected that the kidnapper took them somewhere else to rape them, but she’d never been able to figure out how. The kidnapper used a silkie negligee to bind the damp chloroform soaked cloth over Diane’s mouth and nose to ensure she stayed in dreamland. This last article of clothing was from a woman who’d never even come forward to the cops because she’d been attempting to cheat on her husband with what she believed from their conversations online to be a very handsome man, only to spend a very different night with the kidnapper instead.

The woman took a large beige laundry bag out of her basket and with practiced ease, slid the bound and unconscious detective into it, cinching it closed above her head. She heaved her latest prize over her shoulder and tucked her laundry basket under her arm, and she left, using the stolen keys to lock Diane’s apartment behind her.

Diane was far from the biggest girl she’d had over her shoulder, but she was still sweating by the time she got downstairs. “Do you need a hand with that?” one of Diane’s neighbors asked as he was checking the mail and noticed the woman struggling under what looked like a massive load of laundry.

The woman smiled. “That’s really kind of you, but I’ve got it. If you wanted to grab the door for me, though, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Of course.” He ran over and held the door for her. “You sure you’ve got it? It looks heavy.”

“It is, but it’s nothing I haven’t done before. My car is right there, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, watching her as she walked down the street, blissfully unaware that the attractive woman he didn’t recognize was kidnapping one of his neighbors.

The woman popped her trunk and deposited her cargo inside. She undid the drawstring at the top and pulled it down, revealing Diane’s face. She lifted one eyelid up; Diane’s eyes were rolled back, the detective still deep in her forced slumber. Satisfied, she shut the trunk and took her newest plaything back to her lair.

She had private parking, and thus no need to keep the still unconscious detective hidden when she arrived. The kidnapper pulled her out of the sack and carried her across the threshold to her playhouse like she was carrying in her new bride. Candles were still burning around her four poster bed, and she deposited the damsel detective down on the white satin sheets.

The chloroform cloth over her mouth and nose was long dry, but the redhead was still in dreamland. Her abductor gently removed all her improvised bindings, putting them back in their sealed plastic baggies for later use, except the panties which had been stuffed in Diane’s mouth, which she hung to dry. An empty bag waited on the dresser for her to pick a souvenir from Diane’s wardrobe and use on future victims.

“What will I take from you?” she mused, slowly running her hands down Diane’s limp body. “I saw pictures of you when you were a rookie while I was researching you. You looked very cute in your police uniform.” She started unbuttoning Diane’s shirt. “It’s a shame you don’t wear it anymore. I love a girl in uniform.” The kidnapper opened Diane’s blouse, revealing her black bra with silk trim. “My my detective, what sexy underwear for work. Is little miss married to the job seeing someone on the side? Or have you just been hoping I’d find you?” She grabbed Diane’s boobs, groping them through her bra. Diane moaned softly, her fingers twitching slightly.

The woman smiled and rolled her over to strip the shirt off her entirely. She meticulously folded it and set it on the floor beside the bed. While Diane was on her front, the woman admired her butt, squeezing her sculpted derrière through her tight jeans and giving her ass a little spank. “You’ve got the juiciest butt there detective,” she said, reaching under her limp toy and unbuttoning her jeans. She tugged them down, revealing a purple thong running between the detective’s asscheeks.

If Diane had been on her back, her kidnapper, even distracted as she was by slowly unveiling the detective’s body, would probably have noticed Diane’s eyes open. Diane noted the unfamiliar bed, the glow of the candles, and then shut her eyes again, laying still as memories of what had happened slowly filtered back through her muddled mind.

She’d been grabbed and chloroformed outside her apartment. She recalled a struggle, but the details were hazy. She knew that she’d been kidnapped, and like many women before her, she must have been taken to a secondary location.

But none of those other women had been Detective Diane Annberg.

“You have great legs, detective.” Diane could feel her jeans being peeled down her calves and finally off, taking her left sock with them. It took all her concentration to remain limp as her captor removed her other sock, tickling the sole of her foot. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

The detective kept her eyes closed as her captor rolled her over onto her back. She was stripped down to just her underwear, no idea where her gun was, and her kidnapper had already gotten the best of her once. She just had to wait for an opportunity.

“Let’s see if the carpet matches the drapes, Red.”

Diane felt the woman’s fingers grab the waistband of her thong and begin slowly easing it down. She wanted to kick her. Even without looking, she had a good sense of where her kidnapper was. But it wouldn’t be a solid kick; the woman was too close, her body pressed against her legs as she removed Diane’s underwear. She waited, focusing on keeping her breathing shallow.

“Very nice,” the woman said, running her fingers through Diane’s neatly trimmed bush.

Fury was rising in the detective. She kept still though, maintaining the ruse. Just wait for the perfect opportunity.

“I bet you taste as good as you look.” Diane could feel hot breath on her thighs. Her legs were spread apart. She let them, fighting the urge to resist. She could feel the weight shift on the mattress, her kidnapper crawling up onto the bed between her spread legs. The tickling sensation of long hair dancing across her inner thighs nearly made her jump, but she remained limp. Soon.

Something warm and wet and soft pressed against her most sensitive flesh. A tongue, tasting her pussy lips.

Diane Annberg’s legs snapped closed like a bear trap, trapping the head in between her thighs. Her eyes shot open, quickly taking in the candlelit room. She was in the center of a king sized bed, wearing nothing but her bra. Blonde tresses were sandwiched between her legs. Two feminine hands were grabbing at her thighs, trying to pull them apart, perfectly manicured, red painted nails digging into her toned legs. The body of her kidnapper was on the bed beneath her, clad in white lace lingerie and a garter belt. The butt wiggling in the air dropped from her view, and suddenly Diane felt herself sliding forward across the smooth satin sheets, dragged forward towards the edge of the bed as her captor tried to pull free of her viselike grip.

Diane sat up. She was still woozy, and her vision swam. She could feel her captor slipping from her grasp, and lunged forward to grab her with her hands, but as she did, she lost her grip with her legs, and the head between them popped free.

The detective rolled forward onto her hands and knees, peering over the edge of the bed. The floor was empty.

Her kidnapper had to have rolled under the bed. Diane glanced around the room, looking for something she could use as a weapon. Three doors, no windows, and nothing but candles on the dresser and table.

Her mind raced. She could run for a door, but she figured she only had a one in three chance of finding the way out, and the other two doors were probably a bathroom and closet. She was still loopy from the drugging, she might not be able to escape her captor if she tried to run anyways.

So Diane improvised. She grabbed the pillow, raising it over her head. If she started a fire, hopefully the fire department would show up. Being rescued like this wasn’t ideal, but it was better than whatever her abductor had planned.

As she threw, something yanked on the pillow. Diane turned, finding herself face to face with her kidnapper.

“Hello, Detective.” The woman pressed a familiar, white, wet cloth over Diane’s shocked face.

“Mmmmmmpphhh!”

“Back to sleep with you.”

Diane tried to back away, but the woman jumped up onto the bed, grabbing her and pulling her in. Diane grabbed her wrist and twisted. The kidnapper dropped the cloth, but she grabbed Diane by her hair with her other hand and pulled her in to her chest and trapped her in a tight hug. She looked around for the cloth, but it had fallen off the bed. The brown bottle, however, was still beside her, and she grabbed that up. “It’s alright, Detective. I have plenty more.”

Diane struggled and tried to push her away, but even that small dose had weakened her. She watched as her kidnapper put the lid of the bottle between her teeth and twisted it open, spitting the cap away.

“You can’t do this,” Diane growled, struggling futilely against the woman’s strong hold.

“Oh sweetie, I can. This wonderful drug makes any pretty girl my helpless plaything.” She tilted the bottle, letting the liquid splash out the top and onto her neck. She moaned as the smell hit her nostrils and the cold liquid ran down her chest. The kidnapper hugged Diane closer, pulling her face in between her breasts . “Breath in, Detective.”

“No,” Diane growled into her captor’s wet boobs. She tried to turn her head away, but the woman grabbed her hair and held her face in place, smothering her in her chloroform soaked cleavage.

“Nnnnph,” Diane moaned weakly, her body going slack.

“There’s a good girl. Nice and sleepy.” She relaxed her grip on Diane’s head and started petting her gently.

Diane slumped more in her captor’s grasp, and the kidnapper let her go, watching as Diane’s face slid down her toned stomach, coming to rest between her thighs.

“Do you like what you see, Detective?” she asked. She spread her legs a little wider and poured more chloroform on her stomach. The liquid quickly soaked into her panties.

“Nuuhhh,” Diane moaned, trying to pull away, but her body wasn’t responding.

She set the bottle aside and stuck her hand down the front of her panties, rubbing herself. “What’s the matter, sleepy? You want to have some fun too?”

Diane looked up at her, struggling to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head.

“All in good time, my drowsy detective.” She took her hand out of from between her legs and put her fingers in Diane’s drooling mouth. “But first.” She rolled Diane onto her back and climbed over her, the crotch of her chloroform drenched panties hovering right over the helpless detective’s face.

Diane could do nothing as her captor sat on her face, assaulting her senses with a strong blend of the woman’s deep musk and the overpowering chemical smell of the chloroform.

The kidnapper smothered her plaything between her legs, grinding her pussy on Diane’s face. The detective was out cold again long before she achieved orgasm, blissfully unaware that her kidnapper was, in the most literal sense of the phrase, getting off to drugging her to sleep.

After screaming out in climax, the kidnapper rolled off her victim, pulling her limp plaything into her arms. She rested her head on Diane’s chest, listening for her breathing. It was shallow, but there, her chest rising and falling gently. Good, she’d worried that she might have accidentally killed her. That would have put a damper on her evening. The feisty police detective might have put up more of a fight than her other victims, but in the end, they were all equal after a face full of chloroform.

“I’ll keep this,” she told her sleeping prisoner, tracing her fingertips around the edge of her bra. Moving her limp body, she unclasped the garment and took it off, baring Diane’s breasts. She played with them before she got up and put the stolen bra in its own bag, her souvenir from the detective who had put together that the serial kidnapper and rapist terrorizing the women of the city was a woman herself. She might even remember that little revelation when, if ever, she was released from her drugged captivity. The woman wasn’t the type to form attachment; long term captivity presented a whole host of problems she didn’t want to deal with, but maybe Diane was the damsel to settle down with.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” The kidnapper kissed her sleeping beauty before getting up and scooping the rag doll form of her plaything into her arms and carried her into the bathroom. She laid Diane gently down in the bathtub and sat on the edge. “If I let you go like the other girls, you’re going to keep coming after me, aren’t you, detective?” She turned on the tap, holding her hand under the stream until it got hot before plugging the tub. “I might just have to keep you here to keep you out of trouble,” she said as she started stripping out of her wet underwear.

The water started to rise around the unconscious Diane, steam floating up all around her.

Now naked, the kidnapper added scented bath salts to the water, swirling them around. Her hand found Diane’s leg under the water, slowly drifting up her limb. “You’ll have to be comfortable sharing,” she said, finding that spot between the detective’s legs. “I’m not the type to be tied down by one woman.”

Diane stirred slightly. Maybe it was the warm water, now up to her stomach. Maybe it was the fingers skillfully manipulating her clit beneath the water. Maybe it was the terrible joke her kidnapper made. Either way, she was starting to wake up again.

“Even though I’ll keep bringing home other girls, I won’t forget about you.” She leaned over Diane, gently rolling her nipples between her fingers.

Diane moaned softly, her eyes moving beneath her eyelids, her consciousness fighting to break through the chloroform fog.

“I’ll make sure you are very well taken care of.” Her speech slowed, accentuating each word by sliding her finger deep inside Diane’s pussy.

Diane’s body responded, her shallow breathing quickening.

“Did my previous girls tell you?” She turned off the water and picked up a small vibrator from the side of the tub. The surface of the water rippled when she turned it on beneath the water. “Did any of them remember how good I made them feel?”

Diane moaned when her captor pressed the vibrator to her clit, her head rolling to the side.

The woman brushed Diane’s red hair from her eyes. “Come on, detective, you can wake up for a bit,” she encouraged her.

Diane’s eyes half opened before closing again.

“I know, it’s hard to wake up. You’ve had so much chloroform today.”

Diane forced her eyes open again. Her eyelids were heavy, but the persistent buzzing between her legs pierced through her dazed mind. She was warm and she felt like she was floating. Her green eyes wandered until they found her captor’s face, smiling at her.

“There she is,” the woman cooed.

“Whuh...” Diane tried to speak.

Her kidnapper put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. There’s no need to talk.”

“Nooo,” she moaned, slowly shaking her head from side to side.

Her captor pressed her palm over her mouth, holding her head still. “Hush now.”

“Mmmbblmm,” the groggy detective mumbled weakly. She tried to raise her arms to push the woman’s hand away, but as soon as they left the water they felt so incredibly heavy, and they fell back beneath the surface with a splash.

“It must be hard for a strong, capable, independent woman, a detective in the NYPD no less, to be so weak and helpless.”

Diane nodded in spite of herself, moaning into her captor’s hand. She’d seen more than her share of danger on the force, but nothing compared to this.

“I’ll tell you what, detective,” she said, rubbing the vibrator against her plaything, making her squirm. “I usually let my toys go after a day or so. But I’m having so much fun with you.”

Diane reached under the water for the hand between her legs. She grabbed her wrist, but quickly found she lacked the strength to do anything but weakly hold on.

“I was thinking about keeping you.”

Diane tried to shake her head. She was just so weak.

“I know right now you think you don’t want that, but I’m sure I could get you to change your tune.” She started fingering the detective again.

Diane tried to close her legs, but it took almost nothing for her captor to keep her thighs parted.

“But I like to think I’m fair. So I’m going to offer you a choice.”

Diane tried to ignore the pleasurable sensations between her legs and focus on what her captor was saying.

“I’m going to let you go.”

“Hmmbff?” She knew better than to get excited, but she couldn’t help herself.

“If,” she said, tapping Diane’s nose with her thumb. “If you cum for me.”

Diane furrowed her brow, glancing down at where her captor’s arm disappeared below the water.

“That’s right.” She pulled her wrist free from Diane’s grip and then put the vibrator in Diane’s hand, closing her fingers around the buzzing device. She pushed Diane’s hand between her legs. “I know you’re tired, but I’m sure you know exactly what you’re doing.

Diane lay frozen with indecision. Surely her kidnapper couldn’t be serious. She wouldn’t just let her go if she masturbated for her. But she had let all of her other victims go. Perhaps they all just forgot the condition of their freedom. Or they were all too embarrassed to admit what she had made them do.

“If you’d rather stay with me, that’s fine too.” She stroked Diane’s breast with her free hand.

Diane didn’t really have a choice. She fumbled with the vibrator in her hand and pressed it up against her pussy. Involuntarily, she moaned into her tormentor’s hand.

“I guarantee I can do that much, much better for you, if that makes your decision easier,” she whispered in Diane’s ear.

Diane shot her a look out of the corner of her eye before she figured out how to use her other hand again and moved it into position. The detective’s dedication to her job made relationships nearly impossible, so she had plenty of experience taking care of her own needs. This wasn’t the first time she’d been just utterly exhausted in the bath after work and she’d decided on a little downstairs DJ session. Of course, this was the first time she was exhausted because she’d been drugged multiple times, and was doing it in front of an audience, that audience keeping her handgagged and taunting her. Still, she focused on the task at hand, fingering herself while she rubbed her clit with the vibrating toy.

“I must admit, I’m a little disappointed you seem so eager to leave my company,” she whispered. She stopped fondling Diane’s perky boobs, and the detective was actually disappointed; it was helping. She did her best to stifle her moans as she started getting close, not wanting to give her abductor the satisfaction of showing how much she was enjoying this, or that her hand over her mouth was necessary.

Diane edged closer and closer to climax. A flash of something white caught her eye, and she glanced to see her captor holding something. It looked like...

“Nnnnph!” Her eyes widened. The last time she had seen those panties, her captor had still been wearing them, and she’d smothered her to sleep with them while grinding on her face.

“Oh, did I not mention there was a time limit?” she asked. She removed her hand from Diane’s mouth, quickly replacing it with her chloroform drenched panties.

“Hnnnmmmphh!” Diane dropped the vibrator and reached up, trying to pry her captor’s hand from her face.

“Remember the deal,” she whispered in Diane’s ear, easily holding the chloroform over her helpless toy’s face. “If you can cum before you fall asleep, I’ll let you go. If not, then I’m going to keep you as my sleepy pet.”

Diane hung onto her wrist, barely having the strength to try to pull her away. Every second she debated, she was running out of air, and the sooner she’d have to breath, have to inhale the soporific fumes that would put her back to sleep.

She let go and her hands dropped back into the water with a splash. She felt around between her spread thighs for the vibrator. It was easy to find, but she kept pushing it around and couldn’t seem to wrap her fingers around it. “Gggmmmph!” she screamed in frustration, wasting precious oxygen.

“You better hurry, Detective,” the kidnapper whispered.

Diane grabbed the vibrator, pulling it back into place, pressing it firmly against her clit. She sucked in a deep breath at the sudden wave of pleasure, her head instantly swimming.

“There you go.”

Diane tried in vain to turn her head away from the smothering panties, but they weren’t going anywhere. She was already so tired and she needed to breath, but more than that, she needed to cum. As she teased herself, slowly breathing in the sleep inducing fumes, her desperation stemmed less and less from the promise of freedom and more and more from the carnal need.

Her tormentor smiled, watching Diane’s eyes roll and her blinks getting longer as her eyelids got heavy. “That’s right, detective. Close your eyes. You’re very tired, and I’ll make sure to take good care of you.”

Diane didn’t want to go to sleep. But the soft voice in her ear was hypnotic. She was so tired; sleep would feel so good. But so would an orgasm. She tried to finger herself faster, but her digits were slow and uncoordinated. She couldn’t tell if the vibrator’s battery was getting low or she was just getting numb to the sensations, because she’d been so close to achieving a climax, but she felt it slipping further away.

“Go to sleep,” the kidnapper whispered.

Diane’s eyes shut. She let out one last low moan into the chloroform soaked panties. The vibrator fell from her fingers, buzzing away on the bottom of the tub.

The woman smiled, slowly removing the panties from the unconscious Diane’s face. She took a quick whiff, savoring in the lightheaded feeling. She would probably still release Diane, even though she’d failed to earn it. Eventually. But she was nowhere near getting bored with the helpless detective passed out in her tub. And she couldn’t imagine that she would get bored with her anytime soon.