
The White Room
Our senses keep us sane. How depraved will she become for stimulation?
Chapter 1
by CharlieASIP
I wake up with a jolt, disoriented and struggling to focus. The light is blinding, but not like sunlight—more like the harsh glare of an dentist's office. As my eyes adjust, I see that the room is tiled white. The walls, floor, and ceiling all match.
I try to make sense of it. My mind is foggy, but I know I haven’t been here before. The room is almost eerily simple: a narrow bed without a blanket against one wall, a small toilet and sink in the corner, a heavy door with no handle, and some sort of square metal hatch on the wall. No windows. No decorations. Just white, everywhere.
Panic surges through me. My heart races as I scramble to my feet. My bare toes are cold against the sterile floor. I realize now that I am wearing unfamiliar clothes: a white sundress over matching underwear. A realization strikes that someone must have removed my clothes and dressed me, but for the moment that detail seems unimportant.
I move quickly to the door. I press all my weight against it—to no avail. I step back until the sink blocks further retreat, then I rush the door with my shoulder. I bounce off.
'Ow...', I groan.
I examine the door again. It’s solid, heavy, and featureless, except for a faint seam where it meets the floor. There’s no keyhole, no visible lock—nothing to give me any hint of how it might be opened.
Dropping flat, I discover the seam is too narrow to peer through to the other side. So I stop trying. I hold my breath. I listen.
I swear I hear something in the next room. The creak of an office chair maybe? The sound is so quiet and muffled by the door that I can't be sure that I am hearing anything at all.
'Hello?', I ask anyway. 'Is someone there?'
The response is thick and oppressive silence.
I sigh and return to the bed; brushing my hands through my curly hair in frustration. The panic is becoming hard to contain now; threatening to overwhelm me.
'Think, Nancy,' I mutter to myself. The last thing I remember is leaving late from campus. I had done so several times before, always getting the 20:30 train home. I realize that I have no memory this time of getting on that train—or of entering the station. What remains is a blur: more a feeling of dread followed by fear than any concrete recollection.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stare at the walls. The white tiles seem to close in on me. I need to calm down—to think clearly—but the fear is suffocating, and the emptiness of the room feels like it’s slowly crushing me.
It is then that I notice in the corner above me: the only non-white feature of the room. Staring back at me like a beady black eye is a camera. What should be terrifying is somehow reassuring: there is a person. I am not alone.
What does Nancy do?
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Nancy wakes in a room designed to deprive her senses of stimulation. She does not know how she got here, and there seems to be no way out. Will Nancy let herself go mad, or will she do what she must to stay sane?
- Tags
- Isolation, Kidnapped, Fear, Madness, Solo female, Masturbation
Updated on Sep 10, 2024
by CharlieASIP
Created on Sep 7, 2024
by CharlieASIP
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