Identities Ch. 01

Hi everyone -- after reading through so many stories, this is my first submission. Feedback is much appreciated. Thanks to LaRacasse for reviewing things for me.

The first few chapters have a lot more to do with dominance than sex, but it will come in time ;) ... I hope you enjoy Arley's (?) misadventures!

** Edited retro-actively to fit later plot developments. **

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"Well, what about him?"

"Who?"

"That one, over there at the bar! The big one with the beard."

"Michael?" Arley gave a little laugh, then shook her head with a sigh, her mouth twisting into a rueful half-smile. "Yeah, no. Not another law student. Too claustrophobic."

"Claustrophobic?" Rachel raised her dainty eyebrows over the top of her drink.

"There's not that many of us, you know," Arley explained. "And we see each other all the time. We all have the same assignments and courses for the most part - so we're all doing the same work at the same time. And there's so much work to do that we're always together. Then there's the fact that we've come from all over the country and we only know each other, we don't know anyone outside the school, so all of our social gatherings are made up of the same faces as our study groups." She half rolled her eyes.

"You know me, and I'm not from your school!" Rachel said brightly. Arley grinned at her friend, a sudden rush of warmth filling her for the tiny woman sitting opposite. "Yeah! And so you're just going to have to move back out East!"

Rachel groaned, leaning back in her chair. "I wish. I miss it here. The big city is wonderful in a lot of ways, but there's something so intimate about this place." Arley smiled gently, and allowed Rachel to ramble for a bit about the different atmospheres of their respective homes, simply happy to be in the company of her old friend once more. It had been too long. The soft, warm light of the pub made Rachel's features look smoother, and yet brighter at the same time. Her ears caught a familiar tune playing on the speakers beneath the steady drone of talk that filled the room. She felt content in the bustling warmth of the pub, ensconced with good company and good drinks.

Then Rachel was eyeing the men at the bar again, a mischievous smile alighting on her small face. "Seriously, I think he's interested. He keeps looking over at you."

Arley snorted. "I doubt it. And I just told you, I don't want to date another law student!"

"But you said that your friend, what was her name, that one with the long brown hair-"

"Sarah?"

"Yes, her. You said she and that guy in your class were dating."

Arley's eyebrows knit together as she pulled a face, somewhere between skeptical and pensive, and took a sip from her glass. "Yeah, they are. And there are other law school couples too. You can make it work, I guess."

"Well then?"

"Look," Arley began, shifting somewhat uncomfortably in her seat. The truth was, she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Michael. She found him hard to read. He didn't speak much in class, so she had no indication of his political leanings or personal beliefs. In all of her interactions with the man, he had been entirely pleasant with her, charming, even a bit flirtatious. And his dark eyes and broad frame were certainly appealing. At times she had even found herself looking at him with something that felt a lot like appreciation, imagining what it would feel like to have his large arms wrapped around her. But at other times he made her feel vaguely unsettled. There were moments when she had caught his eye and found his gaze fixed upon her with a strange intensity. Whenever this happened, Arley looked hurriedly away, feeling inexplicably anxious.

She opened her mouth to try and put some of this into words, when Rachel cut across her. "Look! He's coming over!" she hissed excitedly. Arley glanced up and saw it was true. Michael was approaching their table, his eyes set on her and his mouth curled in a relaxed smile. He was handsome, she thought fleetingly.

In almost no time at all, he had reached their table. In the dim light of the pub his eyes seemed extraordinarily dark as he looked down at Arley. Something in his gaze made her stomach flutter nervously.

"Arley. How are you?" One corner of his mouth lifted, disappearing into his dark beard.

"Hey, Michael. How is your night going?" she replied, noting as she did so that she had already put on the smooth, gracious manner that she adopted at law firm receptions and formal parties. Her 'charming-and-accomplished' persona. Why did she so often feel the need to wear a mask when he was around?

"This is my friend, Rachel," she said genially, indicating the petite woman opposite her. "She's actually from here originally, but is just visiting now. She was playing with the symphony this weekend, the harp. She's extraordinarily talented." Arley loved to heap praises on her friends when the opportunity arose, but she was also glad of a reason to shift Michael's focus to a subject that wasn't her.

Michael turned to Rachel and they exchanged pleasantries as he pulled a chair up to their table and sat. Arley took advantage of the respite to look him over. Although not animated in his movements, he seemed to fill the space at the table with his broad frame. His deep voice had a steady, soothing cadence that was pleasant to the ear. Her eyes were drawn to his forearms, resting on the table. Under a thin coating of dark hair, thick bands of muscle were visible, twitching as he gestured with a large hand.

Not having followed the conversation of her companions, Arley was slightly startled to find Michael's gaze suddenly on her once more. He leaned forward, his voice suddenly serious, and even deeper than usual. "Arley, can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?"

A small frown crossed Arley's features. What was it that he wanted to talk about? Why had he come over to their table in the first place? Her mind jumped to their mutual friend, Sarah. Although Arley and Michael didn't move in the same friend group, both of them were close with Sarah. And Sarah had been going through a rough time lately.

"It won't take long." His manner was easy, confident. But all the while, his eyes were fixed upon her with that strange intensity. He looked almost hungry.

Arley glanced at Rachel. She was very curious to know what it was that Michael wanted to tell her, but was sensible to Rachel's feelings. She didn't want to leave her friend sitting alone in the pub when it was supposed to be their night out together. But Rachel said brightly, "Don't mind me, I'll get us more drinks at the bar while you talk."

"Are you sure?" Arley asked.

"Absolutely! I really don't mind. Promise."

Arley stared at her friend for a moment. She had the suspicion that Rachel was pleased to see her spend time with Michael. Suppressing an exasperated sigh, Arley got to her feet, turned to Michael, and said, "Okay, sure."

Michael rose also, and headed off across the pub, indicating that she should follow. Arley glanced back as she walked after him and caught Rachel's eye. Rachel flashed her the thumbs-up, and Arley stuck out her tongue in a moment of flippancy. Well then. On to see whatever it was that was making Michael act weird.

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Arley followed him through the crowded little pub to a back door, which he pushed open with one hand. Stepping through into the alleyway behind the building, he turned and offered his hand to help her down the step, the door being at a small elevation from the pavement below. She didn't really need the assistance - it wasn't a big step and she was wearing flats rather than heels - but Arley took his hand anyways for politeness' sake. His skin was hot to the touch, and his grip on her hand was firm as he lifted her down, sending a strange feeling into Arley's gut.

They stepped together into the night, letting the door swing closed. The cool air felt bracing after the thick warmth of the humanity-filled pub, and Arley breathed deeply even as she shivered slightly. Cold air had always felt cleaner to her somehow. The snow had not yet come, but it would any week now, she thought as her breath plumed into a small cloud. The alley was dimly lit, the only light coming from a wire-wrapped bulb above the back door to the pub, and from the streetlights of the main street that the alley led out to. Besides some garbage bins and a fire escape staircase, the little corridor was quite empty.

Arley turned to look at Michael. 'So what's up?" She felt a pang of worry as she thought of Sarah, and prayed that nothing was wrong.

For a moment or two, Michael didn't speak. He merely looked at her, his expression unreadable. She found it hard to maintain eye contact and her gaze dropped from his, fluttering around the alleyway before eventually returning back to his face.

"You're not from here, right, Arley?"

She paused. "Not originally, no. But I did my undergrad out East, so I've been here a while now."

"You don't have an accent."

"Umm, no?" Why was he staring at her so intently? And why was he talking about accents? "Michael, what's going on?"

He took a step closer, covering the distance between them in one stride.

Arley was not a short woman. Even without heels, she was tall enough to look many men in the eye. But Michael was taller than her by several inches, and as he drew near she had to tilt her head back to look at his face. It made her feel small, a feeling she was not used to.

"There are people back home looking for you."

She merely looked up at him, her mind temporarily blank. His words made no sense. How could he know? His eyes burned darkly as he continued. "People who would pay a lot of money to see you again. Nadia."

His broad body seemed to fill the alleyway. Behind him, the grimy light above the door flickered, causing shadows to waver erratically over them both. Arley thought she heard something in the street behind her, but at that moment her stunned mind was entirely occupied with the man towering over her, so close that she could feel the heat from his front. She was suddenly afraid.

"What?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"I said, you're a very wanted girl, Nadia."

"What are you talking about?" she said testily, shifting away from him. She wanted to leave. She wanted to be anywhere but here with him in this cold and empty alleyway.

"Nadia Christensen, born 1991 in Charlottenburg, Berlin, where you stayed and lived until four years ago, at which time you disappeared." He withdrew from his coat pocket a small, glossy picture and handed it to her. "You've been found."

She took the picture from him, her arm extending automatically. Looking down at the small, square image, she froze.

The picture was of a woman with thick chestnut hair. It fell in a cascade of soft curls past her shoulders and down her back, held back from her face by invisible pins. She appeared to be exiting a store of some kind. Arley could see a glass door partially open just behind her. The woman's body was half-turned toward the camera, and her hand was lifted towards her face, as though she was about to brush a stray curl out of her eyes. Despite the somewhat poor quality of the photo, Arley could see the clear blue of the woman's eyes. The blue of her own eyes.

Arley studied the picture, and said nothing. Her head was bent over the little square so that her mass of curls had slipped over her shoulders and swung about her face, shielding it from view. Michael watched her intently as the seconds lengthened and still she did not move. Finally, she raised her head to look him directly in the eye.

"This isn't me."

Michael merely looked down at her, his face expressionless.

"Seriously, I don't know who this is," Arley insisted, thrusting the picture back at him. He took it and placed it back in his pocket, his dark eyes never leaving her own. Arley could not tell whether he believed her or not. She tried again. "She looks like me, but that isn't me."

Michael took a step closer and Arley hurriedly stepped back, fear bubbling in her stomach. "I know who you are, Nadia," he said, and his deep voice seemed to pierce her.

"Michael, this is insane," she said, a little desperately. She stared steadily at him, her strong brows pulled together in an expression that was half angry, half incredulous. "I've been in classes with you for - for three months now! How am I supposed to be some German? It doesn't make any sense!"

Just then, the door that led back into the pub swung open and two people strode out into the alley. The tight knot of fear that had been building inside Arley's chest loosened as she recognized Chris and Daniel, two more of her classmates. Instinctively, Arley turned towards them, and opened her mouth to call out. But the words died in her throat. Moving quickly, the two men came to stand on either side of Michael, staring at her intently through the gloom. They were in on it, Arley realized, a thrill of horror shooting through her.

"You're worth a lot of money, Nadia," Michael said, his low voice somehow even lower. A growl. "A hell of a lot." Chris smirked at Michael's words. Arley's heart was thudding painfully in her chest, and a shudder ran through her limbs. This couldn't really be happening. It couldn't. She felt an overpowering urge to run and yet, at the same time, her feet seemed glued to the pavement. Her eyes darted from one man, to the next, to the next. She had never really considered how much bigger than her they all were.

Desperately, she tried to think of something she could say. Something that would convince her classmates to leave her be, to let her go back into the bar, back to Rachel. But as she stared into Michael's eyes, breathless with terror, the only thing she was able to manage was a half-whispered, "No."

For the space of a heartbeat, she teetered on the edge of flight, her gaze fixed upon Michael as though against her will. Then his mouth curled into a small, cold smile, and he spoke.

"Take her."

Arley fled, turning on her heel and running as fast as she could for the end of the alley and the bright street beyond. But she had hardly made three strides when she collided with something very large and very solid. Crying out and stumbling backwards, she had a mere second to look up and see Mark bending over her before he grabbed her roughly and spun her about. And then the other three men were upon her. She screamed, but her voice was instantly smothered when Mark's large hand yanked her head back, holding it against his hard shoulder. His other arm was wrapped around her waist and arms, pinning her to him so tightly that she thought he might crush her. The heat of his body was shocking after the cold night air, and Arley felt somehow violated by the contrast, by the intimacy of this man's body pressed against her own. Utterly terrified now, she thrashed and struggled as Chris and Daniel grabbed hold of her as well, screaming into the hand clamped over her mouth.

Then her left arm was being prised away from her body, extended in front of her and twisted palm upwards. Arley saw Michael fiddling with something in a small black case that was mostly hidden from her limited view. Then he turned to where Daniel had her arm in an iron grip, a syringe in his hand. Her stomach plummeted. No. No no no no no no! Overcome by blind panic, she tried to pull out of Daniel's grasp, writhing madly. She kicked at Michael as he approached, her body temporarily suspended by Mark's thick arm around her middle. But it was useless. Chris moved in closer, placing a heavy hand just under her collarbone and pushing her back firmly into Mark's chest. He trapped Arley's feet beneath his own, his weight pressing her into the ground. And now Arley could feel hot tears spilling from her eyes, running down her cheeks and over Mark's hand. She felt lightheaded, dizzy with fear as Michael brought the tip of the needle down to her skin, just below the crook of her arm. She strained with all her might, but was unable to move an inch. She screamed as she felt the needle break her skin, as Michael pressed the end of the syringe and the drug inside entered her bloodstream.

The whole thing had taken less than 30 seconds. Arley slumped in Mark's grip, exhausted and terrified, as Michael removed the syringe and packed it away again. She was suddenly intensely aware of her body. The nerve endings along her feet and hands seemed to tingle and she could feel her heart thudding painfully in her chest. How long would it take the drug to move through her circulatory system? What would it do to her? Fear licked her insides. She was going to lose control over her own body and there was nothing she could do to stop it. A sob rose up and was stifled by the hand still gripping her face.

Daniel released her arm and moved swiftly out of sight. Immediately she drove her free elbow back into Mark's side. She heard him grunt as the blow landed, but the next moment, the arm encircling her waist had snaked out and ensnared her free arm, pinning it to her side just like her other one. He started to drag her backwards, back towards the street, the other three men walking alongside them. Arley was crying now, twisting hopelessly in her captor's grip as he lifted her bodily from the ground and hauled her away. He was impossibly strong.

And then unmistakably, inexorably, she felt numbness spreading through her arms and legs, felt her head turn fuzzy and her eyelids growing heavy. No. No, she had to stay awake, to fight, to get away. The darkness of the alley seemed greater than it had before, even though they were taking her towards the street, which was lit with lampposts. Maybe there were people on the street. Maybe if she screamed ... Mark's hand was no longer covering her face and she opened her mouth to shout for help, but the only thing that came out was a small moan, a pitiful sounding thing.

Murmurs, low voices, and the soft hum of an engine. Somewhere close at hand she heard the unmistakable clicking of car doors. But why would there be a car in the alleyway? It didn't lead anywhere, just to that door, the door with the flickering caged light above it. A great weight pulled at the corners of her mind and she longed to slip away into sleep. But she fought the weight, and dragged her arms up to press feebly against the large, warm body that was lowering her into a dark space. She felt herself come to rest on what felt like rough carpet, the surface of which vibrated gently. With the last of her strength, Arley tried to raise her head, but the weight pulled her under, and she was lost.

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Michael felt a surge of satisfaction as he watched Mark lower the girl into the trunk of the car. Everything had gone perfectly. The dosage of Pentothal he had calculated so carefully was just right, strong enough to take effect immediately, but not strong enough to cause her airway to collapse. Daniel, Chris and Mark had worked seamlessly together, as though drugging and kidnapping college girls was something they did every weekend. Nadia had been seized and taken from the alley in the space of five quick minutes, with no stray passers-by appearing to intervene. No one had heard or seen her struggle as she was carried to the car that Chris backed carefully into the alley. No one would know where he was taking her now.

Michael stood at the trunk and stared down at his captive, unmindful of the low, urgent conversation taking place between his classmates. Her chest rose and fell slightly as the drug held her in slumber, the soft curve of one creamy breast just visible where the neckline of her dress had slipped sideways. The bronze curls that so entranced him lay in a pile behind her head, leaving her face and neck exposed. He let his eyes drift from the ringlets just behind her ear to her mouth, lingering on the full, pink lips. He felt a stirring in his jeans as he imagined those lips stretched around his cock, soft and wet, imagined her clear blue eyes gazing up at him in submission. A slow smile spread across Michael's face. She was perfect. And she was his.