USER: Write another story in the following style: Clara Oswald - Knockout by Damselbinder "What do you mean, you need to investigate?" said a lovely, young brunette, her sharp, slightly accented voice cutting through the artificial atmosphere she breathed. "I have...things I need to do!" replied her companion. He looked just as young as she did, but the reality was not as it appeared. The 'man' wasn't even human - he was that last of a race of ancient beings known as the Time Lords, and while he himself was not quite as old as his species, he had still been alive for well over a millennium. And he was suspicious. The girl with whom he travelled throughout space and time in his craft, the T.A.R.D.I.S., was named Clara Oswald. The Time Lord - who went by the name 'The Doctor' - had known her first by another name, though: Oswin. Oswin had died - died saving him, in fact. Yet he had met her again, in Victorian London, and again she had died. Then he had met her again, in 21st Century London, and the Doctor had recalled the words of a spy novel that he had glanced over 700 years previously, when he was still an enthusiastic flautist: "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action." There were innumerable possibilities. She could be a rival Time Lord, perhaps disguised with a chameleon arch to prevent detection. She could be a sleeper agent - unaware of her treacherous intent, but triggered to strike at a fatal moment, perhaps one already known to his enemies t...

USER: Write another story inan alternate scene based on the following style: Clara Oswald - Knockout by Damselbinder "What do you mean, you need to investigate?" said a lovely, young brunette, her sharp, slightly accented voice cutting through the artificial atmosphere she breathed. "I have...things I need to do!" replied her companion. He looked just as young as she did, but the reality was not as it appeared. The 'man' wasn't even human - he was that last of a race of ancient beings known as the Time Lords, and while he himself was not quite as old as his species, he had still been alive for well over a millennium. And he was suspicious. The girl with whom he travelled throughout space and time in his craft, the T.A.R.D.I.S., was named Clara Oswald. The Time Lord - who went by the name 'The Doctor' - had known her first by another name, though: Oswin. Oswin had died - died saving him, in fact. Yet he had met her again, in Victorian London, and again she had died. Then he had met her again, in 21st Century London, and the Doctor had recalled the words of a spy novel that he had glanced over 700 years previously, when he was still an enthusiastic flautist: "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action." There were innumerable possibilities. She could be a rival Time Lord, perhaps disguised with a chameleon arch to prevent detection. She could be a sleeper agent - unaware of her treacherous intent, but triggered to strike at a fatal moment, perhaps one already known to his enemies to be vital to the timestream, which would explain why she hadn't already struck. She could even be T.A.R.D.I.S. in human form, which - while extremely improbable - was not unheard of: in his eighth incarnation he'd encountered such a being before. It had taken the Doctor approximately one-thirty-thousandth of a second to consider those among several many possibilities, but the majority of them led him to the same conclusion. "Right! Out you go!" "What?!" The Doctor took Clara by the arm, and, despite her spluttering protests, escorted her with not a little force out of his dimensionally transcendental craft. "What on Earth do you think you're doing?" Clara said. "You can't just pick up pretty girls in your magic box and then...then...dump them back whenever you feel like it?" "Can't I?" The Doctor said, with a joyless smile. He slammed the T.A.R.D.I.S. door shut. Clara stood there, stunned by the suddenness of her abandonment. However, to her relief, the ship's door opened again. She smiled, putting her hands on her slinky hips. "Couldn't stand to go without me, Doctor?" "What? No. What was I saying?" He stared at her with intensely probing eyes. "Ah, that's right! You called yourself pretty! I mean - vanity, and all that! I mean, that is to say..." He smiled slyly at her. "Don't worry, Clara. I'll be back." The now doubly bewildered Clara watched as the T.A.R.D.I.S. was shut on her once again - and this time it didn't stay. With a tearing, rushing, roaring sound it vanished from sight - and indeed from the planet. "Well that's great," Clara huffed to herself. As she looked around, she realised that the Doctor had had the good grace to leave her outside her flat, but it was the middle of the night. It was by sheer luck that she even had her keys on her. She had plenty of reason to be furious, but she couldn't quite get herself to be that angry at the charming, young (looking) time traveller. "Who does he think he is?" was all she could work up the irritation to grumble to herself. The Doctor's promise of return significantly softened the blow of her being left behind, but as she entered her darkened flat, she realised that - while the Time Lord would probably keep the promise - he might turn up a year, ten years, thirty years from when he'd dropped her off. A casual mis-flick of a switch might send him any which way through time. Clara sat down, crossing her slender, stocking-clad legs. She wondered exactly what she was to this alien being, this superhuman who'd thrust himself into her life. Companion? Friend? Curiosity? "Could I be something more?" she thought. Clara brushed her own semi-bare thigh with her hand. She was wearing a fairly short - certainly several inches above her knees - red, floral print dress, its collar done tightly up to her neck. She had to admit to herself that she'd been wearing it to impress the Doctor - and she looked very fetching indeed. She'd slipped off her ankle-high boots, and was sitting alone in her flat, wondering when - if - the Doctor would return. Except Clara was not alone. The lovely brunette had been expected, and despite her being somewhat cannier than most companions the Doctor took on, Clara had not noticed that there was already someone in her abode. "She's beautiful...I hadn't anticipated that..." This 'someone' was watching Clara from the shadows. Her chronal equipment had picked up the ripples in space-time sent in both temporal directions by the T.A.R.D.I.S.' arrival, and had allowed her to predict the moment of Clara's arrival...though she'd been off by a couple of hours. But it had been worth the wait. Her target was now before her, with her back to her, ready to be snatched up. The woman, much taller than Clara, with white hair, approached the young woman with trepidation. As she walked closer, she dampened a thick, white cloth with a powerful, sweet-smelling chemical. She trembled slightly, but it was not because she was afraid of failure. It was out of excitement at the thought having this gorgeous damsel in her clutches.story: Clara had no idea that she was being stalked. She stretched her legs out in front of her, and picked up the t.v. remote, which was just where she'd left it. In real time, that was a day ago. From her perspective, it had been three months. "I don't even know what time it is," she muttered to herself. "If there's nothing but Jeremy Kyle on, I'll - MMMPHHHH!!" Clara was taken completely by surprise. For a good three seconds, she was so shocked that she didn't even lift her hands to her face. She just sat there, eyes wide, with her mouth and nose covered by a chloroform-soaked cloth. "Someone's trying to knock me out!" she thought at last, finally reaching up a hand to try to get the cloth away. But when one of her hands did reach the wet, soft cloth pressed over her face, she found that she didn't have the strength to pull it away. In the screen of her television she could see a reflection of herself: a beautiful damsel, ambushed and chloroformed. "What? Why is this...happening?!" "MMMMMPHHHHH!!!" she screamed, hoping beyond hope that one of her neighbours would hear her muffled cries. "I don't believe this! Two seconds without the Doctor and I'm already being kidnapped!" An overpoweringly sweet scent was flooding Clara's senses, and she found that her vision was growing foggy. "Mmmmmphhh..." she mewed. "No! I'm getting...weak..." She was right. Her slender legs were shifting slowly against each other, her smooth, stocking covered thighs caressing each other gently as she struggled. "Have...to do something...what would he do?" The answer was: improvise. Clara didn't have to look long, as it happened. Her answer was already in her left hand. Summoning what strength she could, Clara hurled the remote backwards, and she heard a satisfying thwack as it struck her attacker in the head. "Aah!" The woman's grip loosened for just a split second, but it was enough for Clara to wriggle free. She leapt to her feet, and started to run towards her front door. "Hah! Bit smarter than you thought I was, eh?" But Clara hadn't been quick enough. Her body had already been affected by the chloroform fumes, and her sudden leap up made her go from mildly dizzy to very light headed. "Unnhh..." she moaned, stumbling against a wall. She held herself up, feeling herself growing weak at the knees. "Unnhh...have to...keep...going..." She tried to start moving again, but she'd paused for too long. She felt strong, leather-clad hands gripping her by the shoulders. The weakened brunette was spun around, shoved hard against the wall, and once again had the thick, damp cloth pressed over her nose and her soft lips. "Mmmmphhh!" she moaned, hazel eyes going wide. "Mmmmhhhhbbbhhhmmmhhh..." Clara's eyes didn't stay wide. As they began to sink shut, they looked forward at the woman who had made Clara so weak. She was tall, and thin, but Clara couldn't tell anything more than that, as she was clad head-to-toe in black, with a gas mask over her face. She only saw a flash of blue beneath the mask's goggles. "Sleep, Clara," her assailant said, in an American accent. The voice was too deep for a woman's - it was being electronically altered by her mask. "Stop fighting. It's over, now." "Mhhhh....mmhhhhnnn..." Clara mewed. Her arms were flat at her sides, her legs trembling, but otherwise motionless. "I'm...so weak...I can't move an inch..." the maiden thought. "I'm...being captured so easily..." She stared straight forward, her pretty eyes fluttering open and shut. "Mmmmmphhh...mmmpphhhh..." she whimpered, each soft moan bringing with it a gentle undulation to her body, as if the weakness was flowing down her in waves. Each breath of chloroform brought her closer and closer to the brink of passing out, and she was already completely limp. Had she not been pressed tightly against the wall by her captor, she'd have sunk to her knees. "That's it, my darling," Clara's captor said. She began stroking her victim's cheek. "Such a...soft girl," she said. "Sleep, my love. Sleep..." "Mmmmmmnnhhh..." Clara whimpered, blushing brightly at the embarrassment of being manhandled and captured so easily. She'd been told to sleep, and that was exactly what she was about to do. The confident, assertive young lady who'd stood up to gods and monsters, had been turned into a meek, obedient damsel-in-distress by one woman with a drugged cloth. "I can't...I can't do anything...too weak..." Clara thought. "Wh...why am I...so...helpless...?" With that question in her mind, the beautiful brunette gave in completely, her wide, round eyes falling shut, her head falling limply against her right shoulder. Clara's captor held the cloth in place for a few moments to make sure that her pretty captive was completely unconscious. When she was sure, she removed it, revealing Clara's slightly open mouth, her lips wet from the drugged cloth. "How lucky for me," the woman thought, "that this time-traveller happens to be so damned cute..." The woman gently tucked her arm under the small of Clara's back, and her other arm behind Clara's knees. With one swift movement, she hoisted Clara into her arms, carrying her like a captive princess. She enjoyed the feeling of the maiden's smooth, thinly-covered legs in her hand, especially since the hem of her dress slipped back quite some way as she was carried. Indeed, the entire sensation of carrying the helpless beauty was greatly pleasurable. She walked slowly, enjoying every moment of having the sleeping damsel limp and soft in her arms. She carried her prize to Clara's sofa, where she put her down in a sitting position, her head resting gently against the back of the sofa, her hands placed in her lap. Clara's face, asleep, had a touch of the angelic to it, and she looked decidedly meek and innocent in her drugged slumber. Leaving Clara for a moment, the woman retrieved a backpack she'd left where she'd been hiding, and took out some long, thin, polyester straps, similar to seat-belts. She went back over to her obediently waiting captive, and gently eased her forward, Clara's head lolling in the same direction. Her captor then placed one of the straps around her, just below her breasts. She tightened it, and Clara's upper arms were pulled against her body with exceptional strictness, the strap locked in place with an adjustable toggle. Clara was pushed even further forward, until her head was almost resting against her knees. Her captor took Clara's forearms, and folded them behind her back, before securing them together with another strap, fixing Clara's arms into a box-tie. The intruder tightened it off, until it made a definite impression in Clara's skin. There was so much of the length of the strap left, that the intruder wrapped it a few more times around Clara's wrists, just to make sure that she couldn't free her arms. For good measure, she tied a third strap beneath Clara's breasts as well, making her arms more or less impossible to move, and accentuating Clara's bosom to boot. With her upper body bound, Clara was eased back against the couch, her head falling back to show off her slender neck. But it wasn't her neck that the intruder was interested in. Clara's slender, stocking-clad legs were next to feel the bite of the tight, black straps. Her silky thighs were forced against each other by a strap tied just above her knees. The intruder smiled at seeing Clara become so tightly restrained. She slowly ran her hands over Clara's legs, down her thighs, over her supple calves, down to her stocking-clad feet. Clara mewed softly in her sleep, as if aware that she was being touched. But whatever awareness she might or might not have had, it didn't help her. The process of binding Clara was completed by a strap being tied around her ankles, tying them together, and fixing her legs so tightly that they were only possible to move as one limb. The intruder stood back to admire her handiwork. "KO'd, trussed up and oh so pretty..." the intruder said. "And you're all mine." She went to her bound captive, and took her by the shoulders, lifting her up into a standing position. The petite damsel's head fell against her tall captor's chest, Clara now completely helpless in her captor's grip. Hands wandered down the contours of her body to her hips and thighs. Then, at the same time, Clara's captor bent down, and lifted her captive up. The slumbering brunette flopped over the intruder's shoulder, who stood back up with her gorgeous captive now slung over her. "Let's get you out of here, Clara," the brunette's captor said, stroking Clara's legs as she carried her, her short dress doing little to protect her. Her captor's hands, as they held the sleeping maiden in place, even slipped under Clara's skirt, feeling the warm, soft skin of her thighs which her stockings didn't reach. She even slapped her hand against Clara's tight, round behind. The maiden gave a slight moan, but didn't so much as writhe. "She really is mine..." Clara was taken down to a small vehicle just outside her block of flats, her abductor feeling and fondling her the entire time. Her petite, feminine body was laid down gently into the back of the car, her knees tucked against her chest to fit her inside. Her captor gave Clara's behind another squeeze, before shutting her inside the car's trunk, plunging the damsel into darkness. As she started being driven away, the kidnapped maiden was silent, meek and tame. It was two hours later when Clara at last began to stir. It was very gradual. She was first aware of light shining in on her, then of hands on her body, then of movement. When her eyes fluttered open for the first time, she thought she was back in darkness again. When they opened again, she realised that it was simply that she was looking at something black. The third time - and this time the stayed open - she realised she was looking at the small of someone's back. And she was upside-down. "Whhh...what's...happening?" she mumbled. She tried to move, but she found her limbs weren't obeying her. "Unhhh...I feel weak...what's the matter with me?" She tried to move again, wriggling her hips a little. She felt something tighten around the tops of her thighs, seemingly in response. Something that felt an awful lot like a hand. Clara craned her neck, and found herself looking at her own legs, dangling in the air. As her vision grew clearer, she realised that someone was holding them. Not only that, but she saw why it was so hard to move: her legs were bound together with straps. She looked up, and saw her arms were bound as well. It was now that her memory, made hazy by the chloroform, kicked in. She remembered the brief struggle in her flat, remembered a sweet smell, and then weakness, and darkness. Now, she saw, she was bound hand and foot, and slung over the shoulder of the woman who'd ambushed and drugged her. With shock and humiliation, she came to the unpleasant but inevitable conclusion: "I've been kidnapped!"

USER: Write an alternateRewrite the following scene based on the following story:with a tranquilizer dart knockout: Clara had no idea that she was being stalked. She stretched her legs out in front of her, and picked up the t.v. remote, which was just where she'd left it. In real time, that was a day ago. From her perspective, it had been three months. "I don't even know what time it is," she muttered to herself. "If there's nothing but Jeremy Kyle on, I'll - MMMPHHHH!!" Clara was taken completely by surprise. For a good three seconds, she was so shocked that she didn't even lift her hands to her face. She just sat there, eyes wide, with her mouth and nose covered by a chloroform-soaked cloth. "Someone's trying to knock me out!" she thought at last, finally reaching up a hand to try to get the cloth away. But when one of her hands did reach the wet, soft cloth pressed over her face, she found that she didn't have the strength to pull it away. In the screen of her television she could see a reflection of herself: a beautiful damsel, ambushed and chloroformed. "What? Why is this...happening?!" "MMMMMPHHHHH!!!" she screamed, hoping beyond hope that one of her neighbours would hear her muffled cries. "I don't believe this! Two seconds without the Doctor and I'm already being kidnapped!" An overpoweringly sweet scent was flooding Clara's senses, and she found that her vision was growing foggy. "Mmmmmphhh..." she mewed. "No! I'm getting...weak..." She was right. Her slender legs were shifting slowly against each other, her smooth, stocking covered thighs caressing each other gently as she struggled. "Have...to do something...what would he do?" The answer was: improvise. Clara didn't have to look long, as it happened. Her answer was already in her left hand. Summoning what strength she could, Clara hurled the remote backwards, and she heard a satisfying thwack as it struck her attacker in the head. "Aah!" The woman's grip loosened for just a split second, but it was enough for Clara to wriggle free. She leapt to her feet, and started to run towards her front door. "Hah! Bit smarter than you thought I was, eh?" But Clara hadn't been quick enough. Her body had already been affected by the chloroform fumes, and her sudden leap up made her go from mildly dizzy to very light headed. "Unnhh..." she moaned, stumbling against a wall. She held herself up, feeling herself growing weak at the knees. "Unnhh...have to...keep...going..." She tried to start moving again, but she'd paused for too long. She felt strong, leather-clad hands gripping her by the shoulders. The weakened brunette was spun around, shoved hard against the wall, and once again had the thick, damp cloth pressed over her nose and her soft lips. "Mmmmphhh!" she moaned, hazel eyes going wide. "Mmmmhhhhbbbhhhmmmhhh..." Clara's eyes didn't stay wide. As they began to sink shut, they looked forward at the woman who had made Clara so weak. She was tall, and thin, but Clara couldn't tell anything more than that, as she was clad head-to-toe in black, with a gas mask over her face. She only saw a flash of blue beneath the mask's goggles. "Sleep, Clara," her assailant said, in an American accent. The voice was too deep for a woman's - it was being electronically altered by her mask. "Stop fighting. It's over, now." "Mhhhh....mmhhhhnnn..." Clara mewed. Her arms were flat at her sides, her legs trembling, but otherwise motionless. "I'm...so weak...I can't move an inch..." the maiden thought. "I'm...being captured so easily..." She stared straight forward, her pretty eyes fluttering open and shut. "Mmmmmphhh...mmmpphhhh..." she whimpered, each soft moan bringing with it a gentle undulation to her body, as if the weakness was flowing down her in waves. Each breath of chloroform brought her closer and closer to the brink of passing out, and she was already completely limp. Had she not been pressed tightly against the wall by her captor, she'd have sunk to her knees. "That's it, my darling," Clara's captor said. She began stroking her victim's cheek. "Such a...soft girl," she said. "Sleep, my love. Sleep..." "Mmmmmmnnhhh..." Clara whimpered, blushing brightly at the embarrassment of being manhandled and captured so easily. She'd been told to sleep, and that was exactly what she was about to do. The confident, assertive young lady who'd stood up to gods and monsters, had been turned into a meek, obedient damsel-in-distress by one woman with a drugged cloth. "I can't...I can't do anything...too weak..." Clara thought. "Wh...why am I...so...helpless...?" With that question in her mind, the beautiful brunette gave in completely, her wide, round eyes falling shut, her head falling limply against her right shoulder. Clara's captor held the cloth in place for a few moments to make sure that her pretty captive was completely unconscious. When she was sure, she removed it, revealing Clara's slightly open mouth, her lips wet from the drugged cloth. "How lucky for me," the woman thought, "that this time-traveller happens to be so damned cute..." The woman gently tucked her arm under the small of Clara's back, and her other arm behind Clara's knees. With one swift movement, she hoisted Clara into her arms, carrying her like a captive princess. She enjoyed the feeling of the maiden's smooth, thinly-covered legs in her hand, especially since the hem of her dress slipped back quite some way as she was carried. Indeed, the entire sensation of carrying the helpless beauty was greatly pleasurable. She walked slowly, enjoying every moment of having the sleeping damsel limp and soft in her arms. She carried her prize to Clara's sofa, where she put her down in a sitting position, her head resting gently against the back of the sofa, her hands placed in her lap. Clara's face, asleep, had a touch of the angelic to it, and she looked decidedly meek and innocent in her drugged slumber. Leaving Clara for a moment, the woman retrieved a backpack she'd left where she'd been hiding, and took out some long, thin, polyester straps, similar to seat-belts. She went back over to her obediently waiting captive, and gently eased her forward, Clara's head lolling in the same direction. Her captor then placed one of the straps around her, just below her breasts. She tightened it, and Clara's upper arms were pulled against her body with exceptional strictness, the strap locked in place with an adjustable toggle. Clara was pushed even further forward, until her head was almost resting against her knees. Her captor took Clara's forearms, and folded them behind her back, before securing them together with another strap, fixing Clara's arms into a box-tie. The intruder tightened it off, until it made a definite impression in Clara's skin. There was so much of the length of the strap left, that the intruder wrapped it a few more times around Clara's wrists, just to make sure that she couldn't free her arms. For good measure, she tied a third strap beneath Clara's breasts as well, making her arms more or less impossible to move, and accentuating Clara's bosom to boot. With her upper body bound, Clara was eased back against the couch, her head falling back to show off her slender neck. But it wasn't her neck that the intruder was interested in. Clara's slender, stocking-clad legs were next to feel the bite of the tight, black straps. Her silky thighs were forced against each other by a strap tied just above her knees. The intruder smiled at seeing Clara become so tightly restrained. She slowly ran her hands over Clara's legs, down her thighs, over her supple calves, down to her stocking-clad feet. Clara mewed softly in her sleep, as if aware that she was being touched. But whatever awareness she might or might not have had, it didn't help her. The process of binding Clara was completed by a strap being tied around her ankles, tying them together, and fixing her legs so tightly that they were only possible to move as one limb. The intruder stood back to admire her handiwork. "KO'd, trussed up and oh so pretty..." the intruder said. "And you're all mine." She went to her bound captive, and took her by the shoulders, lifting her up into a standing position. The petite damsel's head fell against her tall captor's chest, Clara now completely helpless in her captor's grip. Hands wandered down the contours of her body to her hips and thighs. Then, at the same time, Clara's captor bent down, and lifted her captive up. The slumbering brunette flopped over the intruder's shoulder, who stood back up with her gorgeous captive now slung over her. "Let's get you out of here, Clara," the brunette's captor said, stroking Clara's legs as she carried her, her short dress doing little to protect her. Her captor's hands, as they held the sleeping maiden in place, even slipped under Clara's skirt, feeling the warm, soft skin of her thighs which her stockings didn't reach. She even slapped her hand against Clara's tight, round behind. The maiden gave a slight moan, but didn't so much as writhe. "She really is mine..."

USER: RewriteContinue the following scene with a tranquilizer dart knockout:in the same style, where clara wakes up barefoot and is knocked out again: Clara had no idea that she was being stalked. She stretched her legs out in front of her, and picked up the t.v. remote, which was just where she'd left it. In real time, that was a day ago. From her perspective, it had been three months. "I don't even know what time it is," she muttered to herself. "If there's nothing but Jeremy Kyle on, I'll - MMMPHHHH!!" Clara was taken completely by surprise. For a good three seconds, she was so shocked that she didn't even lift her hands to her face. She just sat there, eyes wide, with her mouth and nose covered by a chloroform-soaked cloth. "Someone's trying to knock me out!" she thought at last, finally reaching up a hand to try to get the cloth away. But when one of her hands did reach the wet, soft cloth pressed over her face, she found that she didn't have the strength to pull it away. In the screen of her television she could see a reflection of herself: a beautiful damsel, ambushed and chloroformed. "What? Why is this...happening?!" "MMMMMPHHHHH!!!" she screamed, hoping beyond hope that one of her neighbours would hear her muffled cries. "I don't believe this! Two seconds without the Doctor and I'm already being kidnapped!" An overpoweringly sweet scent was flooding Clara's senses, and she found that her vision was growing foggy. "Mmmmmphhh..." she mewed. "No! I'm getting...weak..." She was right. Her slender legs were shifting slowly against each other, her smooth, stocking covered thighs caressing each other gently as she struggled. "Have...to do something...what would he do?" The answer was: improvise. Clara didn't have to look long, as it happened. Her answer was already in her left hand. Summoning what strength she could, Clara hurled the remote backwards, and she heard a satisfying thwack as it struck her attacker in the head. "Aah!" The woman's grip loosened for just a split second, but it was enough for Clara to wriggle free. She leapt to her feet, and started to run towards her front door. "Hah! Bit smarter than you thought I was, eh?" But Clara hadn't been quick enough. Her body had already been affected by the chloroform fumes, and her sudden leap up made her go from mildly dizzy to very light headed. "Unnhh..." she moaned, stumbling against a wall. She held herself up, feeling herself growing weak at the knees. "Unnhh...have to...keep...going..." She tried to start moving again, but she'd paused for too long. She felt strong, leather-clad hands gripping her by the shoulders. The weakened brunette was spun around, shoved hard against the wall, and once again had the thick, damp cloth pressed over her nose and her soft lips. "Mmmmphhh!" she moaned, hazel eyes going wide. "Mmmmhhhhbbbhhhmmmhhh..." Clara's eyes didn't stay wide. As they began to sink shut, they looked forward at the woman who had made Clara so weak. She was tall, and thin, but Clara couldn't tell anything more than that, as she was clad head-to-toe in black, with a gas mask over her face. She only saw a flash of blue beneath the mask's goggles. "Sleep, Clara," her assailant said, in an American accent. The voice was too deep for a woman's - it was being electronically altered by her mask. "Stop fighting. It's over, now." "Mhhhh....mmhhhhnnn..." Clara mewed. Her arms were flat at her sides, her legs trembling, but otherwise motionless. "I'm...so weak...I can't move an inch..." the maiden thought. "I'm...being captured so easily..." She stared straight forward, her pretty eyes fluttering open and shut. "Mmmmmphhh...mmmpphhhh..." she whimpered, each soft moan bringing with it a gentle undulation to her body, as if the weakness was flowing down her in waves. Each breath of chloroform brought her closer and closer to the brink of passing out, and she was already completely limp. Had she not been pressed tightly against the wall by her captor, she'd have sunk to her knees. "That's it, my darling," Clara's captor said. She began stroking her victim's cheek. "Such a...soft girl," she said. "Sleep, my love. Sleep..." "Mmmmmmnnhhh..." Clara whimpered, blushing brightly at the embarrassment of being manhandled and captured so easily. She'd been told to sleep, and that was exactly what she was about to do. The confident, assertive young lady who'd stood up to gods and monsters, had been turned into a meek, obedient damsel-in-distress by one woman with a drugged cloth. "I can't...I can't do anything...too weak..." Clara thought. "Wh...why am I...so...helpless...?" With that question in her mind, the beautiful brunette gave in completely, her wide, round eyes falling shut, her head falling limply against her right shoulder. Clara's captor held the cloth in place for a few moments to make sure that her pretty captive was completely unconscious. When she was sure, she removed it, revealing Clara's slightly open mouth, her lips wet from the drugged cloth. "How lucky for me," the woman thought, "that this time-traveller happens to be so damned cute..." The woman gently tucked her arm under the small of Clara's back, and her other arm behind Clara's knees. With one swift movement, she hoisted Clara into her arms, carrying her like a captive princess. She enjoyed the feeling of the maiden's smooth, thinly-covered legs in her hand, especially since the hem of her dress slipped back quite some way as she was carried. Indeed, the entire sensation of carrying the helpless beauty was greatly pleasurable. She walked slowly, enjoying every moment of having the sleeping damsel limp and soft in her arms. She carried her prize to Clara's sofa, where she put her down in a sitting position, her head resting gently against the back of the sofa, her hands placed in her lap. Clara's face, asleep, had a touch of the angelic to it, and she looked decidedly meek and innocent in her drugged slumber. Leaving Clara for a moment, the woman retrieved a backpack she'd left where she'd been hiding, and took out some long, thin, polyester straps, similar to seat-belts. She went back over to her obediently waiting captive, and gently eased her forward, Clara's head lolling in the same direction. Her captor then placed one of the straps around her, just below her breasts. She tightened it, and Clara's upper arms were pulled against her body with exceptional strictness, the strap locked in place with an adjustable toggle. Clara was pushed even further forward, until her head was almost resting against her knees. Her captor took Clara's forearms, and folded them behind her back, before securing them together with another strap, fixing Clara's arms into a box-tie. The intruder tightened it off, until it made a definite impression in Clara's skin. There was so much of the length of the strap left, that the intruder wrapped it a few more times around Clara's wrists, just to make sure that she couldn't free her arms. For good measure, she tied a third strap beneath Clara's breasts as well, making her arms more or less impossible to move, and accentuating Clara's bosom to boot. With her upper body bound, Clara was eased back against the couch, her head falling back to show off her slender neck. But it wasn't her neck that the intruder was interested in. Clara's slender, stocking-clad legs were next to feel the bite of the tight, black straps. Her silky thighs were forced against each other by a strap tied just above her knees. The intruder smiled at seeing Clara become so tightly restrained. She slowly ran her hands over Clara's legs, down her thighs, over her supple calves, down to her stocking-clad feet. Clara mewed softly in her sleep, as if aware that she was being touched. But whatever awareness she might or might not have had, it didn't help her. The process of binding Clara was completed by a strap being tied around her ankles, tying them together, and fixing her legs so tightly that they were only possible to move as one limb. The intruder stood back to admire her handiwork. "KO'd, trussed up and oh so pretty..." the intruder said. "And you're all mine." She went to her bound captive, and took her by the shoulders, lifting her up into a standing position. The petite damsel's head fell against her tall captor's chest, Clara now completely helpless in her captor's grip. Hands wandered down the contours of her body to her hips and thighs. Then, at the same time, Clara's captor bent down, and lifted her captive up. The slumbering brunette flopped over the intruder's shoulder, who stood back up with her gorgeous captive now slung over her. "Let's get you out of here, Clara," the brunette's captor said, stroking Clara's legs as she carried her, her short dress doing little to protect her. Her captor's hands, as they held the sleeping maiden in place, even slipped under Clara's skirt, feeling the warm, soft skin of her thighs which her stockings didn't reach. She even slapped her hand against Clara's tight, round behind. The maiden gave a slight moan, but didn't so much as writhe. "She really is mine..."

USER: Continue the following scene in the same style, where clara wakes up barefoot and is knocked out again: Clara had no idea that she was being stalked. She stretched her legs out in front of her, and picked up the t.v. remote, which was just where she'd left it. In real time, that was a day ago. From her perspective, it had been three months. "I don't even know what time it is," she muttered to herself. "If there's nothing but Jeremy Kyle on, I'll - MMMPHHHH!!" Clara was taken completely by surprise. For a good three seconds, she was so shocked that she didn't even lift her hands to her face. She just sat there, eyes wide, with her mouth and nose covered by a chloroform-soaked cloth. "Someone's trying to knock me out!" she thought at last, finally reaching up a hand to try to get the cloth away. But when one of her hands did reach the wet, soft cloth pressed over her face, she found that she didn't have the strength to pull it away. In the screen of her television she could see a reflection of herself: a beautiful damsel, ambushed and chloroformed. "What? Why is this...happening?!" "MMMMMPHHHHH!!!" she screamed, hoping beyond hope that one of her neighbours would hear her muffled cries. "I don't believe this! Two seconds without the Doctor and I'm already being kidnapped!" An overpoweringly sweet scent was flooding Clara's senses, and she found that her vision was growing foggy. "Mmmmmphhh..." she mewed. "No! I'm getting...weak..." She was right. Her slender legs were shifting slowly against each other, her smooth, stocking covered thighs caressing each other gently as she struggled. "Have...to do something...what would he do?" The answer was: improvise. Clara didn't have to look long, as it happened. Her answer was already in her left hand. Summoning what strength she could, Clara hurled the remote backwards, and she heard a satisfying thwack as it struck her attacker in the head. "Aah!" The woman's grip loosened for just a split second, but it was enough for Clara to wriggle free. She leapt to her feet, and started to run towards her front door. "Hah! Bit smarter than you thought I was, eh?" But Clara hadn't been quick enough. Her body had already been affected by the chloroform fumes, and her sudden leap up made her go from mildly dizzy to very light headed. "Unnhh..." she moaned, stumbling against a wall. She held herself up, feeling herself growing weak at the knees. "Unnhh...have to...keep...going..." She tried to start moving again, but she'd paused for too long. She felt strong, leather-clad hands gripping her by the shoulders. The weakened brunette was spun around, shoved hard against the wall, and once again had the thick, damp cloth pressed over her nose and her soft lips. "Mmmmphhh!" she moaned, hazel eyes going wide. "Mmmmhhhhbbbhhhmmmhhh..." Clara's eyes didn't stay wide. As they began to sink shut, they looked forward at the woman who had made Clara so weak. She was tall, and thin, but Clara couldn't tell anything more than that, as she was clad head-to-toe in black, with a gas mask over her face. She only saw a flash of blue beneath the mask's goggles. "Sleep, Clara," her assailant said, in an American accent. The voice was too deep for a woman's - it was being electronically altered by her mask. "Stop fighting. It's over, now." "Mhhhh....mmhhhhnnn...""Mhhhh...mmhhhhnnn..." Clara mewed. Her arms were flat at her sides, her legs trembling, but otherwise motionless. "I'm...so weak...I can't move an inch..." the maiden thought. "I'm...being captured so easily..." She stared straight forward, her pretty eyes fluttering open and shut. "Mmmmmphhh...mmmpphhhh..." she whimpered, each soft moan bringing with it a gentle undulation to her body, as if the weakness was flowing down her in waves. Each breath of chloroform brought her closer and closer to the brink of passing out, and she was already completely limp. Had she not been pressed tightly against the wall by her captor, she'd have sunk to her knees. "That's it, my darling," Clara's captor said. She began stroking her victim's cheek. "Such a...soft girl," she said. "Sleep, my love. Sleep..." "Mmmmmmnnhhh..." Clara whimpered, blushing brightly at the embarrassment of being manhandled and captured so easily. She'd been told to sleep, and that was exactly what she was about to do. The confident, assertive young lady who'd stood up to gods and monsters, had been turned into a meek, obedient damsel-in-distress by one woman with a drugged cloth. "I can't...I can't do anything...too weak..." Clara thought. "Wh...why am I...so...helpless...?" With that question in her mind, the beautiful brunette gave in completely, her wide, round eyes falling shut, her head falling limply against her right shoulder. Clara's captor held the cloth in place for a few moments to make sure that her pretty captive was completely unconscious. When she was sure, she removed it, revealing Clara's slightly open mouth, her lips wet from the drugged cloth. "How lucky for me," the woman thought, "that this time-traveller happens to be so damned cute..." The woman gently tucked her arm under the small of Clara's back, and her other arm behind Clara's knees. With one swift movement, she hoisted Clara into her arms, carrying her like a captive princess. She enjoyed the feeling of the maiden's smooth, thinly-covered legs in her hand, especially since the hem of her dress slipped back quite some way as she was carried. Indeed, the entire sensation of carrying the helpless beauty was greatly pleasurable. She walked slowly, enjoying every moment of having the sleeping damsel limp and soft in her arms. She carried her prize to Clara's sofa, where she put her down in a sitting position, her head resting gently against the back of the sofa, her hands placed in her lap. Clara's face, asleep, had a touch of the angelic to it, and she looked decidedly meek and innocent in her drugged slumber. Leaving Clara for a moment, the woman retrieved a backpack she'd left where she'd been hiding, and took out some long, thin, polyester straps, similar to seat-belts. She went back over to her obediently waiting captive, and gently eased her forward, Clara's head lolling in the same direction. Her captor then placed one of the straps around her, just below her breasts. She tightened it, and Clara's upper arms were pulled against her body with exceptional strictness, the strap locked in place with an adjustable toggle. Clara was pushed even further forward, until her head was almost resting against her knees. Her captor took Clara's forearms, and folded them behind her back, before securing them together with another strap, fixing Clara's arms into a box-tie. The intruder tightened it off, until it made a definite impression in Clara's skin. There was so much of the length of the strap left, that the intruder wrapped it a few more times around Clara's wrists, just to make sure that she couldn't free her arms. For good measure, she tied a third strap beneath Clara's breasts as well, making her arms more or less impossible to move, and accentuating Clara's bosom to boot. With her upper body bound, Clara was eased back against the couch, her head falling back to show off her slender neck. But it wasn't her neck that the intruder was interested in. Clara's slender, stocking-clad legs were next to feel the bite of the tight, black straps. Her silky thighs were forced against each other by a strap tied just above her knees. The intruder smiled at seeing Clara become so tightly restrained. She slowly ran her hands over Clara's legs, down her thighs, over her supple calves, down to her stocking-clad feet. Clara mewed softly in her sleep, as if aware that she was being touched. But whatever awareness she might or might not have had, it didn't help her. The process of binding Clara was completed by a strap being tied around her ankles, tying them together, and fixing her legs so tightly that they were only possible to move as one limb. The intruder stood back to admire her handiwork. "KO'd, trussed up and oh so pretty..." the intruder said. "And you're all mine." She went to her bound captive, and took her by the shoulders, lifting her up into a standing position. The petite damsel's head fell against her tall captor's chest, Clara now completely helpless in her captor's grip. Hands wandered down the contours of her body to her hips and thighs. Then, at the same time, Clara's captor bent down, and lifted her captive up. The slumbering brunette flopped over the intruder's shoulder, who stood back up with her gorgeous captive now slung over her. "Let's get you out of here, Clara," the brunette's captor said, stroking Clara's legs as she carried her, her short dress doing little to protect her. Her captor's hands, as they held the sleeping maiden in place, even slipped under Clara's skirt, feeling the warm, soft skin of her thighs which her stockings didn't reach. She even slapped her hand against Clara's tight, round behind. The maiden gave a slight moan, but didn't so much as writhe. "She really is mine..."

USER: Continue the following scene in the same style, where clara wakes up barefoot and is knocked out again: Clara had no idea that she was being stalked. She stretched her legs out in front of her, and picked up the t.v. remote, which was just where she'd left it. In real time, that was a day ago. From her perspective, it had been three months. "I don't even know what time it is," she muttered to herself. "If there's nothing but Jeremy Kyle on, I'll - MMMPHHHH!!" Clara was taken completely by surprise. For a good three seconds, she was so shocked that she didn't even lift her hands to her face. She just sat there, eyes wide, with her mouth and nose covered by a chloroform-soaked cloth. "Someone's trying to knock me out!" she thought at last, finally reaching up a hand to try to get the cloth away. But when one of her hands did reach the wet, soft cloth pressed over her face, she found that she didn't have the strength to pull it away. In the screen of her television she could see a reflection of herself: a beautiful damsel, ambushed and chloroformed. "What? Why is this...happening?!" "MMMMMPHHHHH!!!" she screamed, hoping beyond hope that one of her neighbours would hear her muffled cries. "I don't believe this! Two seconds without the Doctor and I'm already being kidnapped!" An overpoweringly sweet scent was flooding Clara's senses, and she found that her vision was growing foggy. "Mmmmmphhh..." she mewed. "No! I'm getting...weak..." She was right. Her slender legs were shifting ...

USER: Continue the following scene in the same style, where clara wakes up barefoot and is knocked out again:sedated again as she struggles to stay awake: Clara had no idea that she was being stalked. She stretched her legs out in front of her, and picked up the t.v. remote, which was just where she'd left it. In real time, that was a day ago. From her perspective, it had been three months. "I don't even know what time it is," she muttered to herself. "If there's nothing but Jeremy Kyle on, I'll - MMMPHHHH!!" Clara was taken completely by surprise. For a good three seconds, she was so shocked that she didn't even lift her hands to her face. She just sat there, eyes wide, with her mouth and nose covered by a chloroform-soaked cloth. "Someone's trying to knock me out!" she thought at last, finally reaching up a hand to try to get the cloth away. But when one of her hands did reach the wet, soft cloth pressed over her face, she found that she didn't have the strength to pull it away. In the screen of her television she could see a reflection of herself: a beautiful damsel, ambushed and chloroformed. "What? Why is this...happening?!" "MMMMMPHHHHH!!!" she screamed, hoping beyond hope that one of her neighbours would hear her muffled cries. "I don't believe this! Two seconds without the Doctor and I'm already being kidnapped!" An overpoweringly sweet scent was flooding Clara's senses, and she found that her vision was growing foggy. "Mmmmmphhh..." she mewed. "No! I'm getting...weak..." She was right. Her slender legs were shifting slowly against each other, her smooth, stocking covered thighs caressing each other gently as she struggled. "Have...to do something...what would he do?" The answer was: improvise. Clara didn't have to look long, as it happened. Her answer was already in her left hand. Summoning what strength she could, Clara hurled the remote backwards, and she heard a satisfying thwack as it struck her attacker in the head. "Aah!" The woman's grip loosened for just a split second, but it was enough for Clara to wriggle free. She leapt to her feet, and started to run towards her front door. "Hah! Bit smarter than you thought I was, eh?" But Clara hadn't been quick enough. Her body had already been affected by the chloroform fumes, and her sudden leap up made her go from mildly dizzy to very light headed. "Unnhh..." she moaned, stumbling against a wall. She held herself up, feeling herself growing weak at the knees. "Unnhh...have to...keep...going..." She tried to start moving again, but she'd paused for too long. She felt strong, leather-clad hands gripping her by the shoulders. The weakened brunette was spun around, shoved hard against the wall, and once again had the thick, damp cloth pressed over her nose and her soft lips. "Mmmmphhh!" she moaned, hazel eyes going wide. "Mmmmhhhhbbbhhhmmmhhh..." Clara's eyes didn't stay wide. As they began to sink shut, they looked forward at the woman who had made Clara so weak. She was tall, and thin, but Clara couldn't tell anything more than that, as she was clad head-to-toe in black, with a gas mask over her face. She only saw a flash of blue beneath the mask's goggles. "Sleep, Clara," her assailant said, in an American accent. The voice was too deep for a woman's - it was being electronically altered by her mask. "Stop fighting. It's over, now." "Mhhhh...mmhhhhnnn..." Clara mewed. Her arms were flat at her sides, her legs trembling, but otherwise motionless. "I'm...so weak...I can't move an inch..." the maiden thought. "I'm...being captured so easily..." She stared straight forward, her pretty eyes fluttering open and shut. "Mmmmmphhh...mmmpphhhh..." she whimpered, each soft moan bringing with it a gentle undulation to her body, as if the weakness was flowing down her in waves. Each breath of chloroform brought her closer and closer to the brink of passing out, and she was already completely limp. Had she not been pressed tightly against the wall by her captor, she'd have sunk to her knees. "That's it, my darling," Clara's captor said. She began stroking her victim's cheek. "Such a...soft girl," she said. "Sleep, my love. Sleep..." "Mmmmmmnnhhh..." Clara whimpered, blushing brightly at the embarrassment of being manhandled and captured so easily. She'd been told to sleep, and that was exactly what she was about to do. The confident, assertive young lady who'd stood up to gods and monsters, had been turned into a meek, obedient damsel-in-distress by one woman with a drugged cloth. "I can't...I can't do anything...too weak..." Clara thought. "Wh...why am I...so...helpless...?" With that question in her mind, the beautiful brunette gave in completely, her wide, round eyes falling shut, her head falling limply against her right shoulder. Clara's captor held the cloth in place for a few moments to make sure that her pretty captive was completely unconscious. When she was sure, she removed it, revealing Clara's slightly open mouth, her lips wet from the drugged cloth. "How lucky for me," the woman thought, "that this time-traveller happens to be so damned cute..." The woman gently tucked her arm under the small of Clara's back, and her other arm behind Clara's knees. With one swift movement, she hoisted Clara into her arms, carrying her like a captive princess. She enjoyed the feeling of the maiden's smooth, thinly-covered legs in her hand, especially since the hem of her dress slipped back quite some way as she was carried. Indeed, the entire sensation of carrying the helpless beauty was greatly pleasurable. She walked slowly, enjoying every moment of having the sleeping damsel limp and soft in her arms. She carried her prize to Clara's sofa, where she put her down in a sitting position, her head resting gently against the back of the sofa, her hands placed in her lap. Clara's face, asleep, had a touch of the angelic to it, and she looked decidedly meek and innocent in her drugged slumber. Leaving Clara for a moment, the woman retrieved a backpack she'd left where she'd been hiding, and took out some long, thin, polyester straps, similar to seat-belts. She went back over to her obediently waiting captive, and gently eased her forward, Clara's head lolling in the same direction. Her captor then placed one of the straps around her, just below her breasts. She tightened it, and Clara's upper arms were pulled against her body with exceptional strictness, the strap locked in place with an adjustable toggle. Clara was pushed even further forward, until her head was almost resting against her knees. Her captor took Clara's forearms, and folded them behind her back, before securing them together with another strap, fixing Clara's arms into a box-tie. The intruder tightened it off, until it made a definite impression in Clara's skin. There was so much of the length of the strap left, that the intruder wrapped it a few more times around Clara's wrists, just to make sure that she couldn't free her arms. For good measure, she tied a third strap beneath Clara's breasts as well, making her arms more or less impossible to move, and accentuating Clara's bosom to boot. With her upper body bound, Clara was eased back against the couch, her head falling back to show off her slender neck. But it wasn't her neck that the intruder was interested in. Clara's slender, stocking-clad legs were next to feel the bite of the tight, black straps. Her silky thighs were forced against each other by a strap tied just above her knees. The intruder smiled at seeing Clara become so tightly restrained. She slowly ran her hands over Clara's legs, down her thighs, over her supple calves, down to her stocking-clad feet. Clara mewed softly in her sleep, as if aware that she was being touched. But whatever awareness she might or might not have had, it didn't help her. The process of binding Clara was completed by a strap being tied around her ankles, tying them together, and fixing her legs so tightly that they were only possible to move as one limb. The intruder stood back to admire her handiwork. "KO'd, trussed up and oh so pretty..." the intruder said. "And you're all mine." She went to her bound captive, and took her by the shoulders, lifting her up into a standing position. The petite damsel's head fell against her tall captor's chest, Clara now completely helpless in her captor's grip. Hands wandered down the contours of her body to her hips and thighs. Then, at the same time, Clara's captor bent down, and lifted her captive up. The slumbering brunette flopped over the intruder's shoulder, who stood back up with her gorgeous captive now slung over her. "Let's get you out of here, Clara," the brunette's captor said, stroking Clara's legs as she carried her, her short dress doing little to protect her. Her captor's hands, as they held the sleeping maiden in place, even slipped under Clara's skirt, feeling the warm, soft skin of her thighs which her stockings didn't reach. She even slapped her hand against Clara's tight, round behind. The maiden gave a slight moan, but didn't so much as writhe. "She really is mine..."