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From: mighty_lyssa@my-deja.com
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X-Article-Creation-Date: Wed Jul 05 21:01:23 2000 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Boots 1/14 (M+/F, Rape, Snuff)
Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2000 23:10:16 -0400
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My first posting in this forum. Feedback, positive or negative, is
welcome. If you want to give feedback, you can do so at
mightylyssa@yahoo.com. If not, just sit back and (I hope) enjoy the
story.
You know the drill. Please do not repost my stories on websites, etc.
If you want to do that, make your own stories. :o)
Lyss (mightylyssa@yahoo.com)
*********
Boots
(c) Lyssandra 2000
-=1=-
I bought my boots the day before I was abducted. I was not wearing
them when I was abducted, and they wouldn't have helped anyway. But I
imagine they are certainly better footwear for an abduction than
pumps. Hard black leather with green canvas inlays, thick rubber
waffle-grip soles and a steel plate in each toe. Combat boots with
style. Work boots with flair.
The reason I bought them was that I was with two of my friends and we
had gone into the local Outriggers store for the express purpose of
them each getting a pair. I guess peer pressure set in. I certainly
had no interest in buying a pair of combat boots, no matter how
fashionable they made them look. It was like the current interest in
Hum-Vs as a street vehicle. You could install luxuries like A/C and a
stereo, and pretty it up by replacing the drab olive with a glossy
paint job, but it was still a Hum-V. Stiff ride, lousy mileage, and
hard to handle.
But my two friends, Becky and Meggan, had both responded to some recent
stimuli and decided they wanted to wear combat boots. Thus we made the
stop at Outriggers enroute to the movieplex at the Turtle Creek mall.
I simply followed along, already issuing snide remarks about how silly
it would be to clomp around in combat boots. They dismissed my
cynicism with giggles and waves of their hands.
The brand name, Urban Warrior, inspired more ridicule from me as they
tried them on. They found the right sizes and stomped about, laughing
and commenting on the neat way the boots felt. I sighed, realizing
that they were indeed going to buy them. And, I was forced to admit
with some surprise, the boots didn't look all that bad. Well, they
didn't look bad on Becky, because she has good legs, with nicely curved
calves. Meggan was so skinny, her legs looked like ivory sticks
popping out of black leather mud.
"Try a pair on Ellen," Becky frowned at me. It was not the first time
they had requested it.
I knew they had found the ones they liked and were about ready to go.
I grimaced a last (feigning?) expression of resistance and said, "Ok,
fine."
They smirked and we sent the cute salesman back to the stockroom to
fetch my size. He looked to be about our age, but we didn't recognize
him from Western Regional, the junior college we attended. Excuse me,
community college. Western Regional had been working hard over the
last year to shed the old moniker of junior.
"He's cute," Meggan looked at us and did a silly rapid arching of her
eyebrows.
"Go for it Meg," I grinned.
She laughed.
Becky was checking her watch. "We need to move ladies. See if you
like the boots and then we'll buy and go."
"What time does the movie start?" I asked.
"Next one is 7:20. Half hour from now."
"That's plenty of time," Meggan rolled her eyes.
"Not if we want to get snacks and drinks and decent seats," she
replied. "You can stand in line with jerky high schoolers if you want."
I smiled. We were less than a year removed from being `jerky
highschoolers'. How quickly and eager we were to discard what we
considered an inferior past.
"Ok," he returned, seeming a bit out of breath. "One of these should
fit. I got an 8, an 8.5, and a 9."
"Urf. I don't think I'm a 9," my cheeks flushed a bit. I may be
though, I realized. Different shoes fit differently.
"Sasquatch," giggled Meggan and I shot her a glare.
At 5'9" I was taller than either of them. I had planned on going to
Western Regional anyway for a couple of years, and getting all the
basic courses out of the way before trying to get in to Florida State.
That decision had been made even easier when the community college had
given me a full scholarship through soccer. I hoped to get a soccer
scholarship to FSU as well.
Like the other two, I was wearing shorts and noticed his eyes on my
long legs as I slipped my off my soft brown saddle shoes. My legs are
my best feature. Long and naturally shapely, they're even better now
through years of track and soccer participation. The well tanned
thighs and calves have that solid roundness that conveys strength. My
face is average and, I think, pleasant when I'm smiling. My hair is
dirty blonde, long and usually kept back in a loose ponytail. My
breasts are a bit smallish for my size, and I think I contributed to
that through weight lifting.
He held the boot as I slipped into it and began lacing it for me. His
face was close to my knee, looking down, and I wasn't sure if he was
watching the laces or my calf. I was hoping it was my calf.
Admiration is always appreciated and accepted.
"What's your name?" Meggan asked.
"Oh... uh, me?" He looked back over his shoulder at her.
"Duh." We all giggled and Meggan continued, "I pretty much know their
names."
He grinned, turning red. "Sorry. I'm Jeff."
"Hi Jeff," we all chimed in unison.
His grin broadened and he went back to work on my laces. Either
movement or the female sense shifted our attention as we glanced down
the aisle. A middle-aged man had been passing by either end of the
ailse we were in, pausing to look down at us until we noticed, then
moving on. I had spotted his bright blue polo a few times between the
shelves opposite me as he walked that aisle. No doubt he had been
trying to see if he could sneak peeks at us through the shelves.
"Oh regurgitate," Becky frowned openly at the man as he moved on again.
"He's been watching us since we've been here," I said, my face looking
as though I had eaten something decidely distasteful. "Watch, he'll
walk down that aisle now."
The three of us and Jeff, looking uncomfortable, watched and sure
enough his polo could be seen passing.
"This mall would be great other than OLD MAN LOSERS!" Meggan said,
being sure he could hear the last part.
"Meg," I giggled in a snorting way. "Ignore him please."
"Ah, ok, how do they feel?" Jeff stood up, both boots on me and laced.
I stood too and took a few steps. Not bad! I said so.
"They feel cool don't they?" Becky smiled.
"Yes, actually. Very snug and comfy." I was surprised.
"Ok!" Becky announced to Jeff. "We'll each take them and wear them
out."
"Good deal," he smiled, storing our shoes in the boot boxes.
"Will you check us out?" Meggan raised her eyes innocently to him,
trying a rather weak double entendre.
"Ah, no," he said with a hint of a sigh. "I just... you know, help pick
em out."
"Well thank you Jeff," Becky extended her hand and he shook it. We
each did the same, enjoying his happy discomfort.
Walking was odd in the boots. They were heavy, which would take some
getting used to, and there wasn't much flexibility at the ankles. Our
legs overcompensated and we clomped along together, alternately
commenting and erupting into hysterical giggles.
Becky said we were the First Amazon Battalion, or the FAB three. This
was also weak, but our mood allowed anything to be clever, and we all
laughed.
"Why do they have steel in the toes?" Meggan wondered aloud.
"They're real combat boots," I tried to sound knowledgeable. "Just
prettied up."
"So..." she grimaced. "Why do they have steel in the toes?"
"I would GUESS it's so they can kick people," I shook my head in
despair, trying to educate the incorrigible.
"Duh," Becky chimed in.
"Ok, fine," Meggan pushed me hard in the arm, causing me to stagger off
of our course, giggling. "I'm so sure you two know so much about
combat boots."
In the theater we sat in the darkness as the previews of coming
attractions played.
"This floor is sticky," groaned Becky. "How great, ruining shoes as
soon as you get them."
I laughed quietly. "They're not ruined. The floor in here is always
sticky."
"That's from the junior high boys watching the R movies," grinned
Meggan, bringing more snickering laughter.
"Besides," I said, "these are made to go through jungle muck. They'll
probably never wear out."
"Jungle muck?" Becky looked at me like where had I pulled that from?
We were silent for a beat and then we all burst out giggling.
We forced ourselves to calm down, elbowing and pinching each other, so
as not to disturb the other people. I thought we had it under control
when, just as the courtesy messages such as "No Smoking" and "Quiet
Please" were flashing on the screen, Becky whispered, "Jungle muck."
We almost died. Meggan finally had to get up and walk to the restrooms
as she couldn't hold the laughter in. We were getting a few annoyed
glances. Becky and I, tears in our eyes, bit our lips and forced
ourselves into silence, eyes glued to the screen. An internal tremble
would grip Becky's body, causing a mirror reaction in mine. We managed
to keep the giggles stifled though. Meggan finally returned, her face
a frozen mask of constraint, carefully avoiding looking at us lest
another eruption occur.
Fortunately it was a Jim Carrey movie so we were soon able to laugh
aloud with the rest of the audience. This eased the pressure and we
calmed down. After the movie, in the car on the way home, we laughed
more, talking about everything and occasionally interjecting the
phrase `jungle muck'. It was a grand, silly, fun time.
While in the mall, I had noticed a sale at Parisian. I knew we didn't
have time to go in before the movie, especially since they were there
to buy boots, but I told myself I would come back the next day. And so
I did.
I do not have a boyfriend. I date, but haven't found anyone that I
really hit it off with. I think I'm waiting for chemistry. I don't
know how the chemistry will feel or manifest itself, but I do know that
whatever I've felt so far with the guys I've dated hasn't warranted me
doing anything serious with them. I'm a virgin. Becky says I'm the
only 19 year old virgin in America. I know that's hyperbole but I also
understand her point. Still, I'm in no hurry. I have as much sexual
tension as the next girl, I think, but I am very active in sports,
which gives me more of a release than most. And of course there's
masturbation.
As a freshman in high school I developed a semi-strong desire to
experience sex, especially after Becky did. Becky was not overly
active, but she had a steady boyfriend and once they had done it the
first time, they continued pretty often. I sometimes hated to hear her
talk about it, and sometimes wanted desperately to hear her details.
But events conspired so that I never kept a boyfriend long enough or
there was always an easy out when moments of truth arrived. And I
remained a virgin.
I had a boyfriend in my senior year and, not long before we graduated,
we exchanged oral sex. It was a great feeling and my orgasm was
frightening in its intensity. He could have had intercourse then if he
wanted it, but he was big into respect and, since I had stated I didn't
want to have intercourse, he refrained. We repeated the oral sex
several times after that but, perhaps because I was better prepared for
the incredible sensuality of having his tongue on my clitoris, I never
invited him to the next step. After graduation he went off to Tulane
and distance killed the relationship.
By that time also my virginity had ceased being an eventual hurdle to
cross and had become a source of pride for me. Not something I bragged
about, but a source of inner pride. I'm an athlete, my body is my
temple, and this heightened my sense of purity. The absence of a
steady boyfriend plus my proclivity for sports had occasionally led to
predictable rumors about lesbianism, but that didn't bother me. If I
couldn't get peer pressured into intercourse, I wasn't about to let
foolish gossip get to me. It's not that I have anything against sex,
it's just that I'm happy that when I marry I will have something unique
to offer.
Today, before hopping in my 1998 Toyota Camry (able to hold more
friends and soccer gear than anyone would believe) I dressed to look
nice. White blouse open to the second button, not for cleavage (not
that I have a lot) but not to look puritan either. Bright yellow
skirt, with large daisy prints. Matching yellow pumps. No stockings.
My legs are fantastic and there's no need to accent or conceal them.
Gold weave chain with the cross, and a thin gold ankle bracelet. Thick
wood bracelet on my left wrist, stained a deep burgundy with yellow
flowers and green vines painted intertwining on the surface.
The walk to Parisian is nice. The cool mall interior hardens my
nipples but my bra is thick enough to conceal this. I'm no
exhibitionist and I'm not a tease. Well, not much of a tease. I do
put a spring and sashay into my step and keep an eye on the storefronts
as I pass. Instead of looking at the wares inside, though, I'm
watching the reflections in the plate glass. Sure enough, guys turn as
I pass and watch a bit more. That makes me feel good. I hear a "...
great legs..." comment. That makes me feel even better.
At the store, the girl is nice and helpful and I catch her casting
lingering glances at my legs. The envy from other women is about as
nice as the lust from the guys. I'm not in heat or anything, and when
I do get horny I don't display it. These are just moments of personal
enjoyment.
I made my purchases, happy with the styles and price. My parents are
not well off. In fact, they struggle. My father has provided a house
big enough for the entire family of six. His job would probably
comfortably support a family of three in a much smaller house. As it
is, things are stretched to the limit. My mother works at home as a
transciptionist for local doctors, which helps. I'm the oldest of the
four children, and I work part time at a video store. I would work
full time, but getting the full scholarship helped matters a lot. Now,
between study and practice, the 20 hours a week at the store fills my
schedule. The next is my brother, Matt, who is 17. He's working at a
Texaco near our house. Felicia is 15 and not working yet. But she
will. The youngest is Cyndi ("Call me Cynthia!!") at 12.
It has made us a very close family. We've all obtained a good solid
work ethic, and none of us expect anything to come easy. We expect
rewards through hard work, and all expect to do better, income wise,
than our father. I'd like to provide the same opportunity to my
children one day, when I have them. No matter how well I've done, I'd
like them to have the opportunity to do better.
I was lost in these somewhat self-congratulatory thoughts of my family,
headed for my Camry, when it happened. I had the two Parisian bags on
one arm digging in my purse for the keys. I felt a jolt and remembered
when I had been playing with a cord at an electrical outlet when I was
10. Suddenly I was looking at the sky. The sky was moving and
twisting so I must have been falling.
Bright flashes erupted, replacing my vision, as my sight began having
some kind of bad reaction. Between the flashes I could still see the
sky. Then the side of a car. The sky again. Then a metal roof. Then
it was dark. I hadn't gone unconscious because the flashes were still
occuring. I couldn't hear and I couldn't feel. I was floating in a
very unpleasant void.
I wasn't alarmed, but that's because I was out of it. I was unaware of
anything, including what had happened or what was happening now.
Suddenly feeling began to return. The silence of the void was replaced
with a loud roaring and that in turn began to give way as other sounds
filtered through. I could hear a repetitive thump, and someone crying.
The roar receded into the steady sound of an engine. The thump was the
now familiar sound of tires going over concrete seams on a highway.
The crying was me. Not crying really, but a groan I kept making. I
stopped it and swallowed. I still couldn't see.
I lifted my head and realized I was face down. As all feeling came
back, the hard vibration and rough jostling told me I was on the floor
of a truck or van. I tried to get up and found my hands tied behind my
back.
My mental alarms now went off!
"Huuuhhh... uuuhhh...." I cried, but couldn't get my tongue to work. It
felt swollen. What was happening??
"Heellooo?" I moaned. "Huuhh... what..."
No answer. Just the sounds of the travel. I try to free my arms and
discover that something is wrapped tightly around my wrists. It is
flat and has no give to it. Some sort of tape I guess. This testing
has resulted in pressure on my legs for some reason. I try to move
some more. My feet are in the air, bent over my thighs, and somehow
attached to the wrists.
"HELLO!!??" I scream.
No answer. I scream again, not a word, just a scream that quickly
deteriorates into loud sobbing. I'm confused and terrified. It occurs
to me that this might all be a joke, played by my friends, and I latch
on to that, clinging to it like driftwood in a sea of horror.
"This isn't funny!" I scream. "Please let me up... I can't breathe..."
My breath is shallow and hard to come by. I think this is because I'm
close to hyperventilating. My training kicks in and I force myself to
relax a bit, letting my head rest back on the floor and slowly
releasing my clenched abdominals. Relax... relax the stomach... let your
diaphragm sink... breathe easy from the depths...
I'm breathing regularly again now, and my head is clearing. Saliva is
once again being produced and my tongue is no longer feeling like a
clump of dry clay in my mouth. I raise my head again and hold it at
different angles, trying to catch sounds and see. All is black. I'm
obviously blindfolded.
A low moan starts in me and finally exits a high whimper. I think I'm
crying because the blindfold begins to feel damp.
"Pu...please.... Whoever this is... stop this..."
No answer. I open my mouth and scream. Loud. Long. The scream
disintegrates into sobs that rock my body.
"Who's out there!!!??" I scream again. "Ohh... god... oh... SAY SOMETHING!!!"
"Shut the hell up back there!"
I gasp and go silent. My head lifted and turning from side to side,
trying to catch another sound. Nothing.
"Hello?" I listen. "Hello?? Please... who is that? What is happening?"
Nothing. I scream again, trying to elicit another response. It was a
man's voice, I'm sure. Still nothing. I began to scream repeatedly.
Pleading for an answer or simply screaming. Nothing works. My throat
begins to feel raw but I continue. Oh God how long can this go on?
Time becomes interminable. I know after a while that we've been
driving a long time. I keep realizing this. I try to begin to mark
time somehow but my paniced mind won't wrap around it. I cry until I'm
dry. I scream until my voice is a rasp.
The vehicle slows, and turns. This redoubles my efforts. We're going
down another road now, obviously smaller. The vehicle is going slower
and my body moves as it takes curves. I can sometimes hear the dull
echo of cars passing. Those people could help me!! So close! The
irony of that old saying, so close yet so far away, is now cruel,
cutting into my heart with a serated blade.
The vehicle slows and turns again. I hear crunching and realize we're
now on a gravel or rock road of some sort. The ride becomes
progressively rougher, and I'm sometimes bounced off the floor. This
hurts. I feel a cut open on my knee as it catches a seam in the metal
floor. This physical pain, though small and really inconsequential,
somehow drives home the final truth. This is no friendly prank. I'm
being kidnapped. No longer able to cry I simply lay and moan pitifully.
My parents have no money to speak of so this wouldn't be a ransom
unless they just made a mistake. The only other thing is they want to
rape me. They? He? Who? One person? More? I only heard one. No,
no no. I have to talk to them. Make them understand. Please don't
rape me. My virginity is a precious gift to my future husband. Maybe
I can please them other ways. Satisfy them. Maybe they will listen to
me. I will assure them they are in no trouble.
The vehicle slows and comes to a stop! The engine is shut off! I do
not scream, I prepare myself for the interaction to come. I can
convince them. They are human, so they must have humanity. Perhaps
they are cruel and mean of heart, but I'm sure we can talk. It's my
only hope. I hear a door open and slide. This must be a van.
"Fuck, I thought you'd never shut up. Cunt. You think you could
fuckin scream some?"
"I.. hello, I-URGH!" My opening dialogue is interruped as he grabs me
by an arm and leg and jerks me roughly towards him.
"Hoo... you're big. Solid. Work out?"
"Please... let me talk to you for a second..."
"Don't worry cunt. You'll have plenty of time to talk. And beg. And
scream." He laughs and adds, "Now, don't go anywhere."
I hear his footsteps receding. "Sir? Sir??"
I listen but hear nothing. Nothing of him at least. I can hear easy
wind, the way it meanders through trees. We must be in the woods. I
can hear lots of crickets chirping. A frog bellows somewhere. I hear
evidence of him again, as a door either opens or shuts... I can't tell
which.
I try to free myself again but it's hopeless. My restraints have no
give at all. I hear footsteps coming back along with a metallic
thumping. Wait, it's just occurred to me that I'm out in the open! I
scream. Gathering my reserves and pushing my raw vocal chords, I
scream loud. Suddenly he's joining in with me!
"Heeeeeeelp meeeeeeeee!!!" he's screaming very, very loud. "I'm
getting raped and tortured out heeeeeeerrrre!!!" He then laughs. "Ah,
don't think anyone heard us. Damn. Guess we won't be rescued."
"Sir... pu..." I'm shaking with dry sobs. "Please... I will do anything...
just ..."
He roars laughter again. "Well, yeah. I guess you will. Cunt, you
don't have a bargaining position, you realize that? You have nothing
to offer that I can't take, and nothing you can withhold that I want."
"Listen, I want to be your friend, I-AAAHH!!!"
His hand, hard across my face. So hard it rattles my jaw.
"Cunt, you are not my friend. You are a cunt. And you're going to be
treated like a cunt. Now, I can tell right off that you're a talker.
That's fine, as it'll have its place and its role. You'll make us more
excited with your pleading and crying. But this talk here ain't gonna
cut it. Ok? Stop trying to reason with me like you were a real
human. You're a cunt. Now. Damn, I left my pliars. I was going to
crush one of your fingers as a reminder, but I'll do that when we're
downstairs."
I said nothing. There was nothing to say. I retreated into a state of
disbelief. This wasn't happening. My world was back to where it was
earlier. Good. Some life plans. Fun friends. A great family.
Studies and sports.
I snapped out of it as I was hefted up. He grunted hard with the
effort. My forehead banged hard against a metal ridge, and my back was
suddenly bent painfully. I cried out and tried to shift. Suddenly
everything shifted and I felt myself fall. I hit the ground and lay
there.
"OOWWW!!!" I cried as he suddenly kicked me in the thigh. The pain was
sharp and terrible.
"Stupid ass bitch cunt!!" More sounds as he moved something. "You tip
the damn thing over again and I'll break your fucking leg out here!
You got that cunt!?"
I grit my teeth and remain silent like he wants.
"AAOOOWWW!!" Another savage kick to my thigh.
"I said you got that CUNT!?"
"Yes..." I whimper.
"Dumb motherfuckin cunt," he mumbles, then grunts with effort lifting
me back onto the metal. It is painful again but I remain very still.
It's not as painful as his kicks. Everything shifts suddenly and I
think with despair that I'm falling again. He's going to break my
leg. But I don't fall. The metal I'm on is moving in a strange
tilting, bouncing way. A wheelbarrow.
The odd ride stops and he lifts me again. The way I'm hogtied, this is
immediately very painful on my joints, but I bite down hard and don't
say anything. It's obviously awkward for him too as he carries me. We
briefly travel across a level surface but then we begin descending
steps. His breathing becomes more labored as we progress and then he
stops, dropping me to a cement floor. My head smacks the floor and
lights spark in my eyes. A piercing pain starts up. I can hear him
breathing, obviously catching his breath.
"I..." He starts to say something but doesn't. He simply grunts and
hefts me again, moving in rapid heavy steps and then I feel a wood
surface beneath me. He walks away and I hear what sounds like a chair
cushion.
"Damn. How much you weigh cunt?" I hear a small door open and then
the pop of a can being opened. Maybe a soft drink or a beer. I'm
guessing beer.
"CUNT!!!"
"I... 138..." Fear grips me. I have to remember to answer him. If only
this terrible pain in my head would leave.
"138? Who the fuck says 138? I'd say 140. Or, if I'm a lyin cunt like
you all are, I'd say 120. Why so sure of your weight cunt?"
"I'm in sports. I... have to watch it."
"I could tell you're strong. All muscle. That's what makes you so
much heavier than you look. What sports cunt?"
"Track and soccer. Mainly soccer now."
"Why, you don't like track?"
"I... like track. I have a scholarship for soccer though, so it will
take all my time."
"Scholarship," he snorts. "Fuckin cunts. This fuckin society.
They'll hand out money on a platter just because you bleed once a
month."
I wasn't sure if I was supposed to answer or not, so I fearfully stayed
silent.
"Okay cunt," he said with a sigh, sounding reluctant as he got out of
the chair. "Got to get you situated now. First let get all the
formalities outta the way. You're going to get fucked."
I whimper and he cuts me off, slapping my head. Already hurting, this
sends shockwaves of pain through my cranium.
"Shut your hole! Now. You. Are. Gonna. Get. Fucked. You're a
cunt. It's what you're for. Your slit is gonna get fucked. Your
mouth is gonna get fucked. Your ass is gonna get fucked. If you had
tits worth a shit they'd get fucked too. All of that is a done deal.
Now, beyond that, what would you like? You want to get tortured? You
want to die?"
"No..." I cried.
"Then you gotta cooperate. The fuckin's gonna happen. The rest is up
to you. What would you like, fuckin only or the full course?"
I cry quietly. "OOOWWW!!! OH GOD THAT HURTS!" as his hand raps my head
again.
"Well at least you already know my name. I'm god. From now on, you
will address me as god. Anything that comes out of that fuckhole
beneath your nose had better begin or end with god. Say ok."
"O... ok." I quickly remember. "God."
"Cause you see I hold your life and death in my hands. Your life is
mine. The remainder of all your time on this earth is mine. I can
make it as pleasant or as painful as I choose. I can snuff you out at
any moment. I'm.... god. Say yes."
"Yes god."
"Hey you learn quick!" He smacks my head again and I howl in pain. He
chuckles.
"God... something is wrong... when I hit my head on the floor... I've never
felt pain like this... I'm scared I might have something wrong now... I-
OOOWWW!!! PLEASE STOP!!!"
He smacks my head repeatedly. The pain searing through me. My brain
feels like it's going to explode. I've never imagined pain like this.
I can't even black out. I feel like I want to slip into
unconsciousness but the pain in my head slices through everything,
allowing nothing but its presence to be known.
"Ok," he is breathing a bit hard again from the exertion of slapping my
head. He must have slapped me hard, I thought. I couldn't tell. "I'm
going to have to get you situated. I'm going to detach your legs from
your wrists. Then, I'm going to free your wrists and shackle them.
Then I'll free your legs and shackle them. The table here is not
exactly built for comfort but it'll feel better to stretch out again
I'm sure. If... IF YOU TRY ANYTHING... if you breathe wrong, I'm going to
give you pain that will make that headache seem like beloved memory.
You understand cunt?"
"Ye... yes god."
He goes to work. I hear a quick snip and my legs fall to the surface.
My shins hit the wood but my feet are in open air, obviously extended
past the table ledge. He releases my hands and takes the right,
bringing it out to my side. I feel cold metal close around my wrist.
I don't know what he was worried about. I can't even move as the
slightest movement fires up the agony in my head again. I lay still as
he shackles the other arm. He moves down to my legs and cuts the
binder on them. Like my arms, the legs are shackled out to the sides
and he spreads me. Then it is done. He moves back up and I feel the
sharp point of scissors dig briefly against my scalp, followed by a
snip, and the blindfold is removed.
I blink at the light in the room, my eyes adjusting. Suddenly his face
fills my vision as he stoops in front of me, grinning.
"Hi there."
I look at him wide-eyed. He spits in my face. I blink, startled. He
laughs.
"You recognize me cunt?"
"N...no god."
"Bitch. Cunt." He scowls. "You and your two friends at the mall?
Trying your boots on? Fucking cunt sluts. I'd love a shot at them
too. Laughin at me. Fuck you cunt. Who's laughin now? No good cunt
whore. You're only good for one damn thing, and that's openin your
holes for our cum, yet you prance around in the fuckin mall actin like
you're fuckin worth somethin."
The man in the shoe store who kept watching us. I blink again, his
spit easing down my cheek in a glob of foam. "Sir... god... I am so
sorry. I-OOOWWAAA!!! PLEASE!!!" His hand smacks against my temple.
"You picked the wrong fucking guy to piss off cunt. See, we got us a
club out here at my hunting lodge. Four of us. We get together and
grab cunts like you. Bring you here. And have a great time. Look
here."
Trembling I move my head to follow him as he walks over to a video
camera on a tripod.
"We got a four-camera set up. One of us works with Fish and Wildlife
and he can edit like a sumbitch. We have some great home movies of our
times with you cunts. You'll be our fourth!"
I look at him and nod. This seems to puzzle him and he laughs.
"You don't understand do you cunt? Why don't you ask where the other
three cunts are?"
"Wh... where are the other three? God?"
"Over here," he grinned walking back across the room. I swivel my head
to follow as he stops by a large brick oven. He's grinning at me from
there. He is evil. "No evidence!"
"You said..." I want to cry but I am dry. "You said, god, that I could
live... if... if I cooperated."
"I know," he nodded rapidly, walking back over. He got very close in
my face and I could smell his breath. It smelled like mayonnaise. "I
lied."
I could only look at him, my face pleading.
"Ok," he walked around the table, double checking the shackles. "I've
got to go call the others, let em know we're on for tonight. We'll all
have to call in sick tomorrow." He giggled. "Meanwhile, I will leave
you with some entertainment."
End part 1/14
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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