When I awoke, I was in total darkness, lying naked on a velvety mattress. I started to sit up, but bonked my head on something. I reached out and quickly found a low ceiling overhead and a wall to my right, but as I reached to my left I touched flesh. I drew my hand back, heart pounding.

"Who's there?"

At first there was no answer.

"Who's there?" I asked again. Hearing nothing I reached out again, very tentatively, and touched flesh again.

A small, frightened voice said, "I'm here."

"Who are you? What's going on? Where are we? Can you get out?"

"No, we're trapped. I don't know anything," said the voice, definitely a child. It was a familiar voice somehow.

"Hello!" I shouted. "Is anybody out there?"

We were on a thin velvet mattress. The walls and ceiling were similarly padded with velvet. Based on the part I could feel while respecting my companion's personal space, we were in a space about two feet high, seven feet long, and three feet wide. "What's over there behind you?" I asked.

"Nothing."

I felt seams, small circular disks, and in the center of the ceiling a disk with a fine grating which was probably for ventilation. Everything was inset into the velvet; there were no handles or knobs or latches. "Do you feel any knobs or doors, anything you can get hold of?"

"Nope," came the answer.

I couldn't think of anything else obvious to say or do, and we both lapsed into silence for perhaps a minute.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I went to sleep in my hotel room."

"The Four Seasons in Chicago?"

"Yes."

"Me too. I was at the Angela Soprano concert and was going to look around the town a little today before flying home. What about you?"

"I'm ... I'm Angela Soprano."

My heart began pounding. "You're Angela Soprano?" I asked, awestruck.

"Yes."

Angela was a child prodigy, an 11-year-old girl singer -- a soprano, no less. She had a pure, haunting voice, surprisingly powerful for one her age. She was also stunningly beautiful.

I had been fascinated by her ever since I had found out about her a year before. I bought her albums and followed her online, avidly watching every new video on YouTube. It was apparent she was pretty much a normal kid: full of joy when at play or at work, sociable, friendly and polite. She seemed to relate happily and genuinely with everyone: siblings, parents, peers and all the celebrities she came into contact with since her fame.

I had waited for her to give a concert within driving distance of my home, but I got impatient. I flew into Chicago the day before for the concert, and just as everyone said, it was even more amazing to see and hear her in person. There was a whole dimension that the albums and videos didn't capture.

"Angela, I'm you biggest fan. I love your music. You're fantastic!"

"Thank you," she said, in that simple phrase I had heard on video so many times. I thought I could hear her relax a little.

"My name is Sterling. Sterling Smith."

I felt a swelling in my heart whenever I saw or heard Angela, and although the word didn't totally fit, I had sort of a crush on her. I mainly felt it as infinite tenderness and protectiveness. I had often fantasized about what I might say to Angela if I ever met her, how I really wanted her to know how amazing and special she was. But I had nothing to give her in that regard; I could be at most one more person in a sea of fans telling her how great she was. I had known that if I ever happened to see Angela one on one, I was just going to tell her I liked her music and that was that. I hadn't even stood in line to meet her the night before.

But now we had been thrown together in bizarre and frightening circumstances.

I was completely naked. We were only saved from serious awkwardness because she couldn't see anything in the total darkness. It made me uneasy because although my crush on her was mostly chaste, I had also fantasized about making love to her in some magical, impossible world where she was an eager participant at every level. That was something she would never, ever know about.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I don't know, like I said. I went to sleep in the hotel room with my mom in the next bed, and the next thing I knew I woke up in here. I woke up before you."

"Listen, Angela, I have no idea what's going on, but if there's anything I can possibly do to get you out of here safely, I'm going to do it, OK?"

"Thank you."

I was silent for a while, thinking and not coming up with much.

"Do you have any ideas? Thoughts? Things we might try?"

"Ummm, no." After a brief pause, she added softly, "I'm really scared."

"I bet you are. I'm scared too."

Then I found a way to express my concern for her that felt right. "Angela, until someone comes or we can think of something, we're stuck here with each other. What would make you most comfortable? What would you like most? We can talk, or we could just be quiet, or ... I don't know, I could even hold your hand if you wanted."

I hesitated, then said, "I'd even offer you a hug, but I should tell you that I don't have any clothes on. I mean, I went to bed with pajamas on, but whoever put me here took them off."

"I went to bed with a nightgown on too," she said, "but, um..."

"Oh," I said quietly. As I thought about that, a strange assortment of emotions rose in me, including dread and excitement. "Oh, shit."

I heard the hint of giggle.

"Sorry about my language. It's just that I don't think it's an accident. Whoever is doing this --". I stopped myself. What good was it to share my hunches about why we had been put there? A little blood flowed into my penis, but not too much. "I'm so sorry, Angela. I'll do anything I possibly can to get you out of this and back to your family safely."

"I want my mommy," said Angela quietly.

After a long pause, some lights started glowing around the corners of the room.

"Oh, no," I said, quickly turning away towards the wall to hide my nakedness. "I promise not to look."

Just then the box started rotating, soon leaving me at the bottom of a V-shaped trough -- and Angela Soprano couldn't help sliding down against my back. "Sorry!" she giggled.

I'm not sure what parts of her bumped into me first, but she quickly turned so I felt her backbone against my back and her butt against mine.

But the room kept rotating, so Angela rolled up over my back and down the other side. If I stayed facing the wall I'd crash into her backwards. If the room kept turning, we would be in continual danger of crashing into each other. Staying oriented visually was crucial -- more important than making sure I didn't see her nakedness.

Gravity had flipped Angela over me and she slid into the new V-shaped trough. I was the one sliding down and bumping into her.

"Ooph!" she said.

"Help!" I yelled once more to anyone who might be outside.

'"Help!" echoed Angela, an octave higher.

The rotation kept going, and I instinctively clutched her tight with one arm. Perhaps by the same instinct she clutched me. Now we were at least one entity, rolling across floor, wall, ceiling, wall -- not that I could tell them apart. We could concentrate on easing our impact with the padded walls and not worry about hitting each other.

The rotation slowed and then stopped. When it did, I had Angela Soprano in my arms, both of us naked. Fortunately all traces of my erection had disappeared. But I had seen her naked body during those initial rotations. While I was concentrating on keeping from bumping into things, I had also seen her, including quick glances at the parts I wasn't ever supposed to see.

When I pulled back to look at Angela's face, I didn't see the happy, friendly confident expression I was used to. She looked like a very frightened young girl, and very vulnerable. She was in some ways more beautiful, though. She was trembling.

I tried not to look down at her chest, I really did, but I couldn't help glancing. Her aureoles were half-dollar-sized and dark, her nipples beginning to poke out. Her breasts had definitely stirred from the androgynous form that a girl naturally retains through late childhood.

Had she seen where I was looking? "I'm sorry!" I said, flustered, and shut my eyes.

Instead of turning away, though, Angela clutched me tight.

"I'm so scared, Sterling."

"It's OK, Angela, somehow we'll get out of this."

I felt her relax a little and felt her warm softness in my arms. I was glad she wasn't as frightened, and was touched that contact with me could make her feel better. But her relaxation had an unfortunate effect too. My penis surged strongly to life. I pulled my pelvis back away from her, but she naturally looked down to find out why.

"No!" she said in horror. "No, don't do that!" pushing away from me.

"Angela, no, sorry! I'm not going to do anything! It's just a reflex... Here, let me turn away."

I turned, but within a few seconds the room started rotating again. "Oh, shit!" I said, and with the imperative of not crashing into each other we clutched each other once more. "Just ignore my penis," I said. "It's a reflex, just a reflex; I'm not going to do anything with it, I swear!"

After another full turn or so, the room stopped rotating and left us in each other's arms. Neither of us pulled away, despite my erection that lay against her thigh.

"Sterling," whispered a voice from the ventilation duct. "Sterling Smith." Angela looked around; obviously she heard it too.

"Hey! Let us out of here! We're trapped and there's something very wrong."

"Sterling," it repeated, whispering. "Nothing's wrong."

"You've got to let us go! Now!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

"Sterling... Sterling..."

"Yes?" I said.

"You know what you've dreamt of doing, Sterling." It was a maddening, slow and deliberate whisper. "Why don't you go ahead and do it?"

"This isn't funny!" I shouted.

"Tell Angela about your dream, Sterling."

"Just pay no attention to the voice," I said to Angela.

"Sterling," it persisted in its unhurried whisper, "Go ahead ... she's right there."

Angela wasn't totally innocent. "You dreamt of... sex with me?" she said, disgust plainly written across her face, pushing back from me once more.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I never dreamt of actually having sex, not at all, just a fantasy -- this is so horrible, Angela. I'm sorry." I could just say the voice was slandering me and try to convince her to ignore it -- but there was my erection to explain. My eyes misted up. Here I was, frightening the one person I wanted more than anything in the world to reassure and comfort. The one person in the world I wanted to think well of me thought I was a disgusting pervert.

"I don't understand," Angela said. The girl had poise. She wanted to understand.

I couldn't lie. I just hoped I could say it in a way that would make her feel safe, even if there was a prong of hot flesh lying flat against her thigh. "There are some of us men who get attracted to girls, not just women. And I'm one. So I notice you. I didn't want you to know about this at all -- it shouldn't be part of your life. I'm so sorry!" After a pause, I added, "If it helps, I dream more of love than just having sex -- like wanting to marry you -- I mean, it's just a fantasy, of course, but maybe you can see the difference?" It was lame.

"Sterling..." whispered the wall. "Go ahead... she's right there."

"No," I said. "Absolutely not. Forget about it."

"She's warm, she's soft, she's naked, and she's right there. If you do it to her, I'll let you go."

"Yeah, well, she's not willing, and it would be bad for her even if she were, so just forget about it!"

After several seconds, it said, "Imagine how good it would feel."

I decided to just be silent. We had discussed this horrible idea for long enough.

Angela said nothing either.

"Very well," whispered the voice. Just then several things happened in quick succession. I heard a panel snap open, felt someone grab my foot and yank it down out of the box. I saw hands clamping a metal ring around it. A new panel slammed shut, with a hole just big enough for my ankle.

The restraint added a new level of panic. I pulled my leg up with all my might but it did no good. Then I felt rubbing, the cool of alcohol, and the sting of a needle.

"Oh shit," I said and winced. The needle stayed in position and I felt it being taped.

"What's happening?" asked Angela with concern, looking down at where my foot disappeared.

"Someone's started an IV."

"IV?"

"Intravenous tube."

The wall whispered again. "You're not being cooperative, Sterling. You need to engage in sexual intercourse with Angela, and then we'll let you both go. That's all you have to do."

"Never!"

"I'm starting a drug in that IV, Sterling. A drug you won't like at all. It's going to drip in slowly, a little at a time."

I felt a burning starting in my foot.

"Oh, shit!" My eyes shot open with the pain. "That hurts!"

The maddening voice whispered again, "It's going to keep hurting more and more, if you keep being stubborn ... until you DIE. All you have to do is slide your penis up inside her vagina, that's all. One of the drugs will keep your cock hard until the very end, Sterling. All you have to do is press it into her. You know how. You know where."

"No!" Suddenly I had a horrible thought. "You're going to let Angela go, though?" I asked with bated breath. They had to let her go. I had to make sure she'd be safe. That was the only thing that really mattered.

"Oh, Angela's not in any danger; we'll let her go soon no matter what. You're the one in danger, Sterling. We'll let Angela go after your penis slides into her vagina -- or after you're dead. One or the other."

Angela said uncertainly, "Um, I don't know, Sterling. Maybe we should, you know? You could tell me what to do." Despite her words, she couldn't keep the expression of disgust off her face.

"No!" I said. "Out of the question. This man is evil! He'll probably kill us both no matter what we do."

"I would never hurt Angela," whispered the voice. "You know what to do, Sterling. Just push your penis into her, that's all you need to do. She's willing now. What a kind, compassionate girl!"

"No!"

I felt the drug creeping up my leg. It hurt. It burned and itched and at the same time was ice cold, like death itself.

"Angela, turn away, OK? Try to relax, cover your ears."

"Sterling, shouldn't we?" she said, plainly very anxious. "I am 11, you know, things are changing down there."

"No! Please, I could never live with myself -- but it's very thoughtful of you."

Angela turned away.

The pain built, the pain and the cold, slowly. My pelvis was now cold -- except my cock. I groaned and swore.

Angela turned back over to look at me. I didn't have the strength to insist she turn away again.

"Sterling!" she said.

I started crying weakly.

"Oh, Sterling, you're not going to, you know, do anything? And just die?"

"No! Yes!" I shouted.

"What can I do for you?" Angela asked softly, tears in her eyes. She hugged me -- pure affection.

I thought. "Could you ... sing for me?" I gasped.

"Yes! That's one thing I can do! Sing what?"

"Do you know.... 'Abide With Me'? It's a hymn."

"Yes, I know it... Oh, Sterling!" she said.

"Just sing... please?" My chest hurt, but my cock was hard and warm, seemingly more sensitive than ever as it lay against Angela's thigh. Angela was so warm, so soft. To make the pain stop, all I had to do was... No!

Then, in the intimate space of our padded box came that haunting voice:

"_Abide with me, fast falls the eventide._"

The drug was taking me away -- such pain. But I had an angel holding me and singing for me.

"_The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide._"

I nearly fainted with agony, then came to again. Throughout, just as promised, my cock was hard.

"_When other helpers fail..._"

I was fading, but rose back to consciousness long enough to hear, "_Help of the helpless, Lord, abide with me._"

A warm girl was hugging me, an angel of a girl, and she was singing directly into my ear with infinite sweetness. It hurt like hell, but there were worse ways to go.

---

I woke in a hospital. It took a minute for the memories to come back.

I pushed my call button and asked the first person who came in, "Is Angela OK? Did Angela make it out OK?"

The orderly disappeared and returned with the shift nurse. "Mr. Smith, the police say Angela is safe and back at home with her family."

"What happened?"

"I really don't know; the police didn't say."

I couldn't get any more detail from anyone, however.

Physically my recovery was quick. The agents causing my intense pain apparently cleared from my body without lasting harm. But the doctor kept me for a second night to be sure.

An officer escorted me directly from the hospital to the police station. A detective showed me into a small conference room.

"Ah, Mr. Smith. A very unusual case ... Tell me what you remember."

"I woke up in that padded box with Angela Soprano -- both naked. The box started rotating and stopping, over and over. Then someone grabbed my foot and restrained it and I felt a needle --an IV, it felt like. Then a lot of pain. Angela sang to me. That's the last thing I remember."

"Yes, all true. About five minutes after you lost consciousness, the top of the padded box opened. Angela found her way out of the sub-basement where you were being held and got help for you."

I gave a sigh of relief.

"Is she OK? It must have been terrifying for her."

"A pair of women detectives interviewed her. She was emotional and embarrassed at times, but she gave a clear story. Her family reports she is doing OK. She was concerned about you, and we've told her you've made a full recovery." He paused. "You left a lot out of your account, and so did Angela. We know that because the whole thing was recorded with multiple cameras and audio feed."

"Oh," I said, turning red, but decided to press on. I hadn't done anything wrong -- had I? "So...They just let Angela go when I wouldn't do what they wanted, and they weren't going to kill me? They were bluffing?"

"Ummm, no, I wouldn't say that. You would have died."

"What happened?"

"Well, Angela is a remarkable girl."

"Yes?"

The detective paused briefly. "I'm really not supposed to do this, but would you like to see the recordings? That will explain it."

"Yeah, definitely!"

"Angela doesn't know it was recorded. Since she's a minor, we discussed the issue with her parents and they agreed it would be just as well if she never finds out."

"OK."

"But I think you'll find it interesting," he said, trying to suppress a smile.

He ushered me into a booth containing just a computer workstation, then showed me how to operate the software. There had been a dozen tiny cameras hidden in the walls and ceiling, capturing what happened from every point of view. He told me to take as long as I liked, then left me alone.

---

I heard the conversation just as I remembered it. The cameras didn't show anything until the lights came on, naturally. I got to see Angela turn away from me at the same time I turned away from her. I saw her body from various angles as we tumbled around and as we lay talking. I saw my foot grabbed, yanked, and restrained. I shuddered to recall the pain. Angela's voice was beautiful even with the poor quality of the recording as she sang out the last line, "_I triumph still if Thou abide with me._"

"Sterling?" she asked a few seconds after she finished her song, coming back into present time from that reverie she enters when she sings. When I didn't answer, she asked louder and shook me.

"Nooo, don't die! Gosh darn it!" The look of anguish on her face was unmistakable.

"Can he still be saved?" she asked the wall. There was no answer. "Can he? Can *I* save *him*?" She looked panicked. "God damn it!" she said.

I saw her bite her lip, then saw her draw back out of my embrace a little and look at my slack face intently. She then brushed her hand slowly down my chest, stopping at each nipple. When she reached my erect cock she grasped it gently, then released it. Then she reached down between her legs. She opened her labia with her fingers and poked around, though obviously the cameras couldn't capture what was happening inside.

She jockeyed her body around to position my still-hard penis tip right between those pussy lips as we lay side by side.

"I'm sorry, Sterling," she whispered. "I know you didn't want to do this, but you're not awake. I hope you can forgive me -- and I hope God forgives me," she said earnestly. But then she got a gleam in her eye and added, "But you really did want to, right? Yes you did!"

The gleam faded as she began forcing my penis into her vagina. I watched her facial expression intently. There was surprise and concentration mixed in with winces of pain, but what I latched on to eagerly was the trace of a smile.

After thirty seconds or so, she had managed to engulf three inches of my penis.

Then her eyes went wide with surprise. My hips began thrusting gently. After 10 seconds and a final thrust, my whole body relaxed. My unconscious face was troubled with pain throughout, but it lessened at what was apparently my orgasm. There was no hint that I had regained consciousness at any point.

A few seconds after I relaxed came the sound of locks clicking.

Angela pushed up with one hand and the ceiling panel moved. "Yes!" she said with relief. But she didn't scramble out right away. She clutched me to her tightly, then looked down to our junction and tentatively thrust her own hips back and forth, causing my penis to slide in and out a few more times before pulling our bodies apart.

One camera angle showed her looking at my still-hard penis sliding out of her, gobs of semen plainly visible.

After a few more seconds of looking between her legs in wonder, Angela came out of her reverie and scrambled out of the padded room.

There was a camera showing the outside as well. Her nightclothes and mine were both there on a bench. She looked at the goop between her legs. She wabbed my pajamas into a ball to wipe between her legs, but paused at the last moment and then put them carefully back on the bench. She pulled up her panties, then made a face and pulled them down again to see the smear of semen on them. Then she shrugged and pulled them up once more. She put on her nightgown.

Before she left she looked in for several seconds at my unconscious form. When I stirred and moaned, she smiled, and then she was gone.

Once I knew how it all turned out, I rewound and played the scene over and over again, attending to the different angles.

As I saw her gorgeous girl's body, naked and so close to mine, I got very hard. I deserved my own set of angel wings, I decided, for resisting her while I was conscious. Her body was more perfect and sexy than I had ever imagined, her expressive face making her incredibly alluring as it went through her range of emotions -- even fear and anxiety.

And then to see her decide to have sex with me anyway to save my life -- it was astounding and very erotic. She had layer upon layer of reasons not to want sex with me, but once she decided she needed to, she did it. And instead of going through the motions with gritted teeth and no emotion, she could also keep contact with her intense adolescent curiosity.

I had slept right through it!

---

"Thanks for showing me," I told the detective, a little embarrassed.

"We arrested the guy who did it," he said. "We should have no problem getting a conviction. You are the victim of a very serious crime -- attempted murder. Ordinarily we would prosecute without hesitation. If you or Angela wants us to, we will.

"But we have a dilemma. The defense will undoubtedly want to show that video in court. They will insist on putting you and Angela on the stand. She and her parents are still debating what they'd like to do. If they'd rather drop it, what would you do?"

"I'd let it drop, of course," I said. "I couldn't expose Angela to that sort of publicity. It would be pretty embarrassing for me, too."

"I thought you'd see it that way."

"Any chance that guy just might die under mysterious circumstances?" I asked with anger.

The detective just smiled. "I think he'll plea bargain to probation. We'll be watching him in any case.

"Um, are there any possible charges against me?"

"No. Even if you'd penetrated her when you were conscious, you'd be off the hook because you were being coerced, but we certainly don't hold a person responsible for what they do when they're unconscious.

"Maybe you're a dirty old man," he said with a smile, "but getting an erection isn't a crime. You must have shared your fantasies somewhere?"

"Yeah, online," I said. "I thought it was private..."

"People always do," said the detective and shook his head.

As I thought things through, I started feeling a little more relaxed. I had acted honorably when faced with great temptation. Angela had come out of it alive. It would be traumatic for her, undoubtedly, but would it have been any less traumatic to lie next to a corpse for a few minutes? Instead, she had taken action. She had chosen to lose her virginity with me to save my life.

"Um... Is there any chance I could get a copy of the video?" I quickly added: "You know, to help myself come to terms with what happened to me?"

The detective laughed. "No. It is child porn -- child porn that could command a very high price. We think we've got all the copies. The perpetrator says he has copies with friends, but he may just be making that up as a point to bargain with. If he does and it gets released, he's going to jail for life and he knows it."

"Could I watch it again?" I asked. "To understand the terrible things that happened to me?" I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Sure," he said. "Take as long as you like. Oh -- here's a box of tissues in case it makes you cry," he said with a smirk.