A/N: This fic was created to familiarise myself with writing once again. I am a little rusty around the edges now, after such a long hiatus, but I'm glad to be back.

Warning: Graphic contents and harsh language. Anyone who knew my story conceptualisation and style would know that I toy around with the mind. For those who don't, do expect plenty of mind games, reverse psychology, and unexpected outcomes. Stay on your toes.

I have gone and pushed my limits (plot wise) with this fic. It isn't your typical BV. It can be a little disturbing, so, don't hate me.

Day 1: Abduction

Her eyelids fluttered open, behind which hid a pair of dazed blue eyes, a pair of pupils dilating and adjusting themselves against the pitch black darkness that surrounded her. She tried moving, only being able to lift a weak arm, aiming to rub the sore spot throbbing on her temple.

The sound of tinkling metal resonated in the air, and she found herself unable to shift her arm any further than her neck. Still in a muddled state of mind, she strained her neck to see what had had her in restraint.

'Handcuffs?'

She grimaced, her lips frowning as hard as her brows, as she pushed herself up. A jolt of pain zapped her from the spine and to the base of her head, eliciting a hiss through her teeth. In her dishevelled, disorientated state of mind and body, she looked down at herself.

'Fully clothed.' A brief relief quickly washed over her.

She began looking around, squinting her eyes through every nook and corner, every light and shadow. It seemed as though she was in a basement of some sort. A well-equipped one, too, with a bed, window, bathroom, and small kitchen.

A door opened, the groan of steel was heard as though someone had pulled on a lever, and she quickly resumed her previous position. Stiffened and more alert, she feigned unconsciousness, hoping and praying whoever it was would leave her alone.

Her eyes were closed and at ease, but her heart was thumping hard in a desperate call for help. The person drew closer to the bed on which she lain, the footsteps filled with intent, the pace slow and calculated, stopping short of a few inches from her.

It was a man; that much she could tell. His aura was dominant; so overpowering that she felt herself unable to breathe. And if breathing was difficult, staying calm would be a feat.

The man was silent as he remained where he was. She could sense his overwhelming presence; she could hear his subtle respiration. But the fact that he was as still as she was trying to be, made her anxious and curious. The urge to see his face was strong, but the consequences anticipating that action threw her off, sending her into another state of desperation.

'Waiting it out would be ideal' she thought decidedly but soon regretted it when the empty side of the mattress sank down. The man had taken a seat so dangerously close to her till she could feel his warmth.

'Please don't touch me, please don't touch me, please don't…'

The chant continued on loudly in her head, but it could not stop the man's fingertips from feathering the contours of her hand; from the fingers to the curve of her shoulder. There was a pregnant pause before he resumed his perverted antic, twirling a lock of blue hair with his fingers and then raising those soft, silky strands to his face.

He sniffed her hair, slowly… sensually.

She heard him sigh ever-so-lightly, and swore that her life had been sucked out of her along with the breath he took.

A/N: Alright. Please don't flame me. The setting pretty much shows the kind of situation Bulma had gotten herself in, and what is in store for her. I know it's a bold move to be writing such a genre. But I can't help it. This must be written.

However, things can and will only get more disturbing. So, please don't hate me for it! I love you all? *grin*