Stockholm Syndrome (2 page)

Most noticeable, however, was the atmosphere in the room.
Excitement and anticipation were thick in the air, along with something more
subtle. Mason thought it was the smell of arousal and lustful pheromones. He
wondered how many of the guys had hard-ons. He certainly did, and they hadn’t
even started yet!

At seven o’clock, Owen left his place next to Mason and
moved to stand at the front of the room, between the two groups. He clapped
loudly to get their attention.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the
fourteenth annual Chase!” He waited for the applause to subside.

“I am the Captain of The Chase, and you may call me…Captain!
Or Master or Sir!” Laughter and catcalls resounded above more clapping. Owen
bowed elaborately.

“I am the one you must speak to if you have a problem, or a
question. My mobile will be on for the next twenty-four hours. I am also the
Custodian of The Rules.” He paused for dramatic effect.

“Before we go through The Rules, however, it is my pleasure
to confirm for you that the rumors you heard tonight are indeed true. He is
here! With great honor, I present to you the legendary Founder of The Chase!” A
roar of applause drowned out Owen’s last words.

Mason stood up and bowed, grateful for his concealing mask.
Bloody Owen was going to milk this for every drop of drama he could squeeze out
of it.

“Fourteen years ago this man, who will not be named, was a
student here. On a night much like this one, he came up with an ingenious
idea—no doubt inspired by boredom and alcohol—and the first game of The Chase
took place, right here on this campus. History was made that night, and a new
tradition inaugurated.” He threw out his arms theatrically.

“That’s right, boys and girls! That living legend is going
to hunt alongside you tonight. And at least one very lucky lady is going to get
to know him a whole lot better!” A crescendo of clapping and howling cheers
followed this announcement.

“But before the games can begin, we have to attend to
certain formalities. Some of you have been in The Chase before, but for some it
is a new experience. Therefore, for the sake of these virgins among us, we will
now go through The Rules before signing The Pact.”

The audience, silent now, listened intently. Fascinated,
Mason considered how very different it was from when he’d last played The
Chase. In his time, there hadn’t been any rules or things to sign, and no
Captain. But he could appreciate the need for greater control given the number
of people participating. And that in itself was astonishing. He settled back in
his chair to listen to Owen.

“As you already know,” his brother continued, “I am the only
one who knows who each of you is. You all came to me individually, before
tonight, to apply to be here. I have received from each of you your fees, proof
of your age, current proof that you do not have HIV or any other sexually
transmitted diseases, and, in the case of the ladies, signed affidavits that
you are on birth control. Furthermore, each one of you has been sponsored by
another member of this group who has attested to your character, and I have
personally confirmed that you don’t have criminal records.” He paused and
looked around.

“That is a lot of work for the Captain of The Chase, but it
ensures that we can all relax and enjoy ourselves this evening without fear of
unpleasant consequences or repercussions, in the knowledge that the safety and
secrecy which is so vital for this event will be upheld.”

Really impressed by now, Mason wondered who had put all
those procedures in place, for he doubted it was Owen. But perhaps they had
simply been developed over the years, as necessity arose.

“Now, in accordance with our tradition, I am going to
destroy The Pact and all of the accompanying documentation from last year.”

Another black-shirted and masked man brought Owen a sturdy
metal trash can and a bottle. Owen unlocked a strongbox lying on a table beside
him and removed a loose stack of paper. He dumped it into the trash can and
doused it with liquid from the bottle. The pungent smell of fuel reached
Mason’s nostrils.

“We have to do this outside,” said Owen, “or we’ll set off
the fire alarms. Can I have some witnesses, please?”

He strutted outside to the courtyard, followed by three men
and four women. They returned about five minutes later, accompanied by a faint
odor of smoke.

“Let the records show it was done,” announced Owen. Mason
noticed that one of the women near the front was taking notes, like a secretary
in a meeting. Owen went on with his task.

“I will now run through The Rules. If you have any
questions, please wait until I have finished before asking.” He took a deep
breath.

“Right, firstly and most importantly, all participation and
activities taking place tonight, and for the duration of The Chase, must be
entered into freely and be fully consented to by all parties. It is mandatory
for all participants to sign The Pact prior to commencement. All participants
must be aware that The Chase is a game of a highly sexual nature, involving
forceful sex, role-play, and coercion fantasy, possibly with multiple partners.
Your participation implies your willingness to accept those conditions.” An
excited ripple stirred the audience but Owen ignored it.

“No weapons may be used or carried during The Chase. No
person may hurt or injure another. Force may be used, but carefully moderated
so as not to cause harm to fellow participants. A safe word may be used by any
participant at any time, and if used, all activities must immediately stop, and
the person who is safe-wording must be attended to and made comfortable.”

Owen paused at this point and looked around at the rapt
audience.

“The safe word for this year is exit,” he said. “Please all
repeat it three times.”

They all chanted in unison. He nodded, satisfied.

“If you are unable to speak then three claps, clicks, or
taps will be the safe signal. Does everybody understand?” A chorus in the
affirmative followed.

“To continue, all activities for The Chase will take place
on the campus. If you leave the campus, you terminate your participation. We
have guards at all the gates, and if you pass them, you’re out. This entire
facility has been made available for the use of the participants for
twenty-four hours.” He gestured widely, indicating the residence and the
grounds beyond, and grinned. “It was neither easy nor cheap to arrange. As
always, our cover story is that we are holding an esoteric retreat for
meditation and relaxation.” Sniggers and sarcastic comments flew around the
room.

“There are private rooms upstairs, and a communal session
will be held in this room. Women who want to participate in the communal
session after capture will wear a black armband on their right arm. If you
catch a woman wearing an armband, you must bring her here, not to a private
room.”

Mason assumed that the communal session referred to an orgy,
and watched with interest as a bag of armbands passed around the women. He
estimated that about a third of them took one and put it on. It was going to be
a riot of an orgy! He wouldn’t be looking for a woman with an armband though—he’d
had his share of orgies, some of them while playing The Chase, but it wasn’t
what he wanted tonight.

“Just a few more points!” Owen clapped again. “You may not
use drugs during The Chase, and that includes roofies. No photography is
permitted. The kitchen will be open, and snacks and drinks will be available.
Do not, at any time, leave any participants alone while tied up, or in any
position where they could come to harm in your absence. At all times, consider
the safety and comfort of your fellow participants. And finally, a very
important point…” he shouted over the rising excitement, “absolute secrecy is
to be maintained about The Chase. Do not speak about it to anybody except your
fellow participants. Do not email about it, or post about it on any of your
social media sites, don’t blog about it. If the secret gets out, it will be the
end of The Chase. Would you like that?”

“No!” roared sixty-five voices.

“Then don’t do anything fucking stupid!” shouted Owen. “Now
does anyone have any questions?” Nobody made a sound. Owen moved back to the
table.

“Then it’s time to come up and sign The Pact. Form a line
please, ladies first.”

By the time Mason reached the table, most of the others had
already signed. He saw that Owen slid a piece of card down the list of names
and signatures, effectively covering the ones above so that each person could
see only his or her own name.

When everybody, including Owen himself, had signed, he
folded up The Pact and placed it, along with various other papers and the notes
taken by the woman, into the strongbox. He then made a show of locking the box
and hanging the key on a short, sturdy chain around his neck.

“In twenty-four hours, assuming all goes well and we don’t
need to access any of those documents, I’ll take the strongbox back to the
safe-storage facility where it will be kept until next year.” He returned to
his spot at the front of the room. The excitement was reaching a fever pitch,
and he had to clap several times before the crowd quieted down.

“It is almost time for The Chase to begin. Once you leave
this room, you are permitted to remove your masks and veils if you want to.
Everyone has signed, so it is your decision if you wish to reveal your identity
to the other participants. On your way out, there are some necessary supplies
for the gentlemen, in those baskets on the left. Please help yourselves.” He
paused, letting the tension mount in the silent room before announcing, “Let
The Chase begin! We’ll give our ladies the customary ten-minute head start. Run
away, ladies—the clock is ticking, and we’re coming to get you!”

The women rushed out, shrieking, knocking over chairs on
their way, and scattering in different directions as they burst out of the
door. Owen flicked on a timer on the table next to him.

“When this beeps, they’re all yours,” he said to the men.
“Good luck!”

***

Mason watched Owen cross over to his seat beside him,
stopping to chat to several people on the way.

“You’ve become quite the showman, little brother. Well
done.”

“Glad you approve. Pretty well organized, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’m quite impressed. It isn’t spontaneous, like it
used to be, but I can understand why, with so many people wanting to play. And
this meeting’s quite an exciting buildup to it.”

Owen grinned. “Yeah, it is. And with all this fucking
planning, it’s impossible for anything to go wrong.”

The timer beeped. The men jumped to their feet and moved
swiftly and silently to the door.

Mason didn’t rush out. He was in no hurry, knowing from
experience that half the fun was in the chase, and prolonging it enhanced the
pleasure of the experience. Already shrieks and screams radiated from outside,
and the occasional burst of male laughter.

“Sounds like some of them couldn’t wait to be caught,” he
said to Owen. “I still remember the screaming.” They grinned at each other.

“Yeah. Some of them get so caught up in it. They cry and
fight so hard, you’d think it was for real. Anyway, I’ll be off to hunt now.”
They shook hands, and Owen jogged to the door.

Mason stood alone for a moment, considering, then headed up
the stairs. A planner by nature, he decided to check out the accommodations
first. When he’d been in res here he’d stayed on the first floor, in a room
little bigger than a closet, and he’d shared a bathroom with four other
residents. He remembered that the upper level had slightly larger rooms,
though, so he bypassed the first two landings and came out on the third floor.

At the end of the corridor, he found what he was looking
for—a clean, well-lit room with its own little bathroom, and a queen-sized bed.
He turned down the quilt to check that the sheets were clean, grunting in
satisfaction at the smell of freshly laundered linen that wafted up to greet
his nose. The bed also had a sturdy headboard and footboard, which would be
helpful if he decided to tie up his captive. His cock bucked at the thought. It
was time to hunt.

The key to the room was in the door, on the inside. He
removed it, locked the door behind him, and slid the key deep into his pocket.

***

Mason paused at the baskets near the door, curious as to
what the “necessary supplies” might be. There were ball gags, lengths of soft,
black rope, and black fabric hoods, like elasticized bags, to pull over a
captive’s head to blindfold her. He shrugged and stuffed a gag, a hood, and
several lengths of rope into his pockets. The women obviously expected to be
tied up and gagged, and who was he to disappoint?

He emerged into the warm night. Nobody was in sight but all
’round he heard the sounds of pursuit and capture. Soon the men would return to
the res with their prisoners.

On a whim, he strolled toward the sports grounds. If he
remembered correctly, there was a wide band of parkland with paved walkways
beyond the rugby field. The dark trees would be a great place to hunt and stalk
his prey.

He jogged along for about five minutes, leaving the sounds
of The Chase behind him. When he found the area he remembered, he slowed down
to a walk again, enjoying the night smells of rich, wet vegetation and the
breeze on his face. He felt keenly alive. The paths seemed deserted, though,
and after exploring for about ten minutes, he turned back the way he’d come. It
seemed none of the women had come this far.

But then he saw her, a glimmer of white through the trees,
walking swiftly along a path perpendicular to his. Adrenaline flooded his veins
in a rush, and all his senses sharpened. Time stretched into a series of
protracted moments interspersed with the deafening thudding of his heart as he
fell in behind her, rapidly closing the distance between them with his longer
stride. Was this how primitive man had felt, in a time when life was lived on
the edge of a knife blade, always ready to fight or flee…or fuck?