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Disclaimer: Not only is this a fantasy, it's a fantasy about people who don't
really exist! So get a grip and go away!

Author's Note: Some time ago I wrote a story based on "Catch That Kid" which
was basically scenes from the movie the way *I* would have written them.
I've decided to make it into an occasional series starting with the episode
"Solitary" from Lost I also considered portraying a game of "Strip Golf" that
happened on the other part of the island (well not the strip part) in the
same episode but then remembered that all the participants were guys and that
one of them was Hurley.

Codes: MF, F-dom, BDSM



Lost: Outtakes Part 2 - Solitary
by Tricksterson ([email protected])

Sayid woke up slowly and in great confusion with voices asking him questions
he didn't understand over and over again. The last thing he remembered was
hanging upside down from a rope, then someone coming along and cutting it.
The first thing he noticed upon awakening was that he was tied hands and foot
to some kind of metallic frame. The second thing he noticed was that he'd
been stripped down to his underwear.

"Where's Alex?" he finally made out when the seeming cacophany of voices
faded.

"I don't know."

He heard a sparking sound to the side and pain jolted through his body.

"Where's Alex?" this time he was able to make out the voice as feminine.

"I don't know who Alex is," he pleaded only to be rewarded with another jolt
of pain and unconsiousness.

* * *

Danielle Rousseau viewed her captive with a conflicting vartiety of emotions
running through her head. On the one hand she knew, just *knew* that this
stranger had to be dangerous, one of the Others, what else could he be? On
the other hand she'd been so lonely for so long. When stripping and searching
him her hands couldn't help but linger on his dark muscular body. Then she
found her hands drifting downward. His cock stirred at her touch but she
pulled back as he started to awaken.

* * *

"Where am I?" he asked drowsily. He finally focused and saw that his captor
was a woman. Indeed an attractive one underneath the signs of years of
inattention to her looks. He saw what he guessed to be her name on a battered
looking backpack.

"Rousseau?"

Suddenly she was leaning over him with a predatory look on her lean face.
"How do you know my name?"

"It's on your bag."

"Lies!" she slapped him. Hard. "You're one of them!"

"Who are...'them'?"

"The Others." She slapped him again. He struggled futilely against his bonds.
Then she seemed to have an abrupt mood change, from fierce to tender. "Who is
she?" she said, showing him a picture of Nadia.

"Someone I loved. You have to listen to me. Whoever these others are I'm not
one of them. I was on a plane. We crashed."

"Lies!" and with that she slapped him, leaving bloody scratches on his face.
She stared at the blood transfixed and then bent down and licked it off. She
ran her fingers down his hairy chest then licked at the red scratchs she'd
left there as well.

"What are you doing?" Despite, or perhaps because of, the pain he was finding
himself oddly aroused by her attentions.

"Quiet," she said as her nails traced pattern on his shorts then pulled them
down revealing his manhood which while not especially long was quite thick.
She gave it a few slow strokes and then went down on it, mouth sucking both
eagerly and skillfully.

Sayid was torn. On the one hand he was the helpless captive of what appeared
to be a madwoman. On the other hand the sensations running through his body
were ones he had not indulged in for years out of a combination of guilt and
devotion both to his religion and the memory of Nadia.

"Please," he asked, although even he wasn't sure exactly what he was pleading
for.

His plea was cut off by a gasp of pain as his mysterious captor reached down
and twisted his balls savagely.

"Quiet," she commanded then flicked her tongue out to capture a drop of
precum from his cock tip. She then looked at his package quizzically and
apparently decided to sooth the damage by licking his balls gently. She
then stripped down to her bare skin and prepared to mount her captive. An
inspiration struck Sayid.

"You know," he said, "it would be so much better if only my hands were free."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Perhaps later," she said then took his lower lip
between her teeth and bit down, licking the blood off her teeth and lips as
she impaled herself on his pole, perversely grown more rigid by the pain she
was inflicting. As she moved up and down, face a study in concentrated need,
her fingers dug into the matted hair of his chest. He strained at his bonds,
torn between the desire to hold her in his arms and the desire to snap her
neck. She bit down on her lip as her orgasm mounted. He stiffened as he
himself built towards climax. Her eyes rolled up in her head.

"Unh!" she grunted as she came then leaned forward, artms resting on his
chest. She smiled.

"That was not so bad, was it?" He did not reply. She rolled off and walked
naked to a table and took something off it. As she came closer and opened it
he saw that it apeared to be a music box.

"It stopped working years ago." Sayid was not sure if she was talking to
him or herself. "It was a wedding present and a great comfort after my love
died."

"Alex?" asked Sayid.

"Robert."

"If you let me look at it I think I might be able to fix it. But you'll have
to free my hands."

She didn't reply but he saw her go to a cabinet and take out a syringe. He
wasn't sure how long it had been there but the fact that she had to sand what
looked like either rust or blood off it spoke volumes. Either way, not good.

"You don't have to do that," he pleaded just before she stuck him. After that
everything became a blur followed by darkness.

* * *

Danielle Rousseau eyed the handsome, unconcious man before her. Unfortunately
he stunk of dirt, foliage, blood and sex. Well she could take care of that.
She took a cloth and started cleaning his face. It wasn't too long before the
cloth went lower and lower, washing first his chest then descending to his
genitals. Although unconcious he still reacted, stiffening at her touch and
to her lips which were kissing and licking at his nipples. Soon she had
stroked him to a full and impressive erection. She brought her face down and
rubbed his hard cock against her face, reveling in both the feel and the
smell. She flicked her tongue out licking the underside of his penis then ran
the palms of her hands up the sides as if molding it. It had been sooo long.
She pressed it between her small breasts and then mounted it.

"Mmmmm" She moved faster and faster up and down his rod until finally it and
she exploded together.

Then of course she had to clean him up again.

* * *

When he awoke his hands were free but his legs were cuffed to a chair and
another chain was wrapped around his torso, also holding him to the chair.
Just where had she gotten all these chains and handcuffs anyway? And he was
still naked although she seemed to have washed him while he was out.

"Here. You said you could fix this," she said handing him the music box. She
was dressed only in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with no bra underneath.
But now was another sort of opportunity he'd been waiting for. While he fixed
the box he concealed a small thin needle, ideal for lockpicking.

After he had finished her face lit up and she gleefully swirled around the
room to the music then came over and sat on his lap.

"Thank you," she said as she ground her pussy against his crotch and pressed
her breasts against his chest. He raised his harms and embraced her then, as
the kiss parted lifted up her shirt over her head and applied his mouth and
hands to her dark brown nipples. She moaned softly.

"You see," he said with a smile, "I told you that you would not regret giving
me the use of my hands." Her own smile answered his. He lowered his head once
again to her breasts and let one hand drift down towards her crotch but the
movement was interrupted by a muffled roar from outside the shelter which
made her pull away, get dressed and grab her rifle.

"What is that?" Sayid asked.

"If we're lucky, it's just a bear," was the reply.

"Is it the monster." She looked at him as if *he* was insane.

"There are no monsters," she said than hurried out.

Once she was gone Sayid wasted no time. He quickly worked at his restraints
and was soon free. He dressed quickly, knowing that she could be back any
second. Part of him regretted doing this. He felt both sympathy for her
obviously tortured soul and undeniable physical attraction but he also
recognized that she was dangerously unstable. He grabbed the shelter's other
rifle and the map he'd seen on the table.

He had gone only a short way when he saw Rousseau and covered her with the
rifle. Shortly thereafter she saw him and started to raise her own gun.

"I do not want to hurt you."

"You already have."

"Put the gun down." She made no motion to do so but when he fired nothing
happened.

"I removed the firing pin. Robert found that out when I shot him."

"Why did you skoot him."

"He was sick. They all were. If the disease had gotten off the island...."

He turned to go, expecting a bullet. Nothing happened. There was one last
question he had to ask.

"Who's Alex?"

"My child."

    

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