Stolen: A story of survival

By Casey Brennan

In the dystopian world of "Stolen: A Story of Survival," Jenna finds herself trapped in a nightmarish existence. Kidnapped and subjected to the dark desires and volatile whims of Guardian Asher, she grapples with despair and helplessness.

As she confronts the enigmatic Guardian Asher, a figure of imposing authority, Jenna's defiance sparks a harrowing series of events.

The story unfolds in a dark, moody atmosphere, revealing a world dominated by the oppressive Order of Dominus, where women serve men without question.

With a heart-pounding narrative and complex characters, this provocative and intense story delves deep into the complex dynamics of dominance and submission, as Jenna fights for survival against a backdrop of unrelenting brutality and oppression.

This provocative and intense story unearths the shades of light and darkness within the human soul, illuminating the unbreakable bonds of love, even in the bleakest of circumstances.

"Stolen: A Story of Survival" explores the depths of fear, survival, as well as explores the light and darkness within human nature, and the endurance of the human spirit.

Trigger Warning: This book contains explicit sexual content and explores themes of dominance and submission, including non-consent. It includes scenes of a sexual and psychological nature that may be disturbing or triggering for some readers. Reader discretion is advised. If you are sensitive to such content or have experienced trauma related to these themes, please proceed with caution or consider whether this book is suitable for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dhalia Publishers
• Release date: Jan 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224040070

Book preview

Chapter 1

My Dearest Michael,

I miss you. Profoundly. I think of you, perhaps too often. You are likely gone, I know. Yet, I maintain the pretense that you are somewhere safe, missing me, just as I miss you.

I cannot endure this existence without the illusion that you remain, that the life we had planned still awaits us. It is my sole beacon of hope, this act of make-believe. It is what sustains me.

Love you eternally,

Jen

With a sigh, I close my diary, and return it to its hiding place under the wooden floor boards. It’s been a month, and all I can do to keep my sanity is my thoughts of Michael, and leaning on him, as always, when I am in pain. Of course, I know he’s not there. What else do I have but flights of fantasy where I can pretend that he is alive, I am not a prisoner, and that I may have the chance of escape or rescue. Foolish I know. I lean on those memories as I always have, like a lifeline in moments of excruciating pain.

It is a desperate, fragile illusion that I cling to with all my might, even as the harsh truth gnaws at the edges of my mind. But in this place where despair is a constant companion, where the walls seem to close in with every passing moment, these fantasies are my refuge, my source of strength. They're the fragile threads that hold together the fabric of my sanity in a world that has crumbled into chaos.

Michael embodied boundless vitality and a heart brimming with care. His contagious, positive energy, his almost old world charm, and gentle, solid presence quickly melted my reserve into a feeling that we were meant to be together. Me, who approached new relationships with reserve, and an unwillingness to trust anyone with something as precious as my heart, quickly succumbed to his charms.

We traded stories, me from my class of preschoolers, and him, from his classes at college. Picnics, strolling hand-in-hand through flea markets and book fairs, dining at offbeat and tucked-away eateries, leisurely swims in the lake, and lazy afternoons sprawled on the couch, were the simple activities that we took so much pleasure in. We often indulged in his guilty pleasure, a ludicrous cartoon series, which he would earnestly analyse through socio-cultural lenses, sending me into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

And then there was his humour, so unapologetically corny that it never failed to make me smile. His jokes, often groan-inducing yet delivered with a twinkle in his eye, left me giggling like a 5 year old.

The last time that I saw him, was an incongruous bright summer's day, picnicking in the park. It was one of those days that you leaned into the warmth, that gently sapped your will to do anything more productive, than laying on the grass, and watching big, puffy white clouds go slowly by.

Michael, tall and rangy, a shock of dark blond hair, and deep blue eyes, which always seemed to be cheerfully taking in the world. It had been three months since we first crossed paths at a teacher's conference, and during that time, we had fallen in love.

The park just beyond the city limits had beckoned with a promise of a breath of fresh air and a tranquil retreat. Rolling expanses of lush, green grass had stretched out beneath the open sky, with wildflowers and native plants adding splashes of colour and fragrance to the landscape.

In the distance, a few couples, it seemed, had also decided to also take a couple of hours just to relax and unwind in these verdant, lush surroundings.

We had sat on a soft blanket, nestled closely together, our laughter harmonizing with the warm, gentle, caressing breeze. It was a moment of complete and utter contentment, an oasis of happiness where the ceaseless march of time paused, and the sole reality that mattered was the warmth we shared in each other's presence. It was a contentment born out of being comfortable with each other, with the silence, and with the occasional inconsequential conversation.

In him, I had found