Silent 
H.  Jekyll

MF, Mf, Ff, bdsm, nc, some scat:  story codes refer to the series, 
not to specific chapters.

Chapter One:  Capture 

	Snatching the mother was easier than snatching the girl had 
been.  After a few weeks of no daughter she had slowly begun to go to 
work, to shop for groceries.  She and her husband were grief-stricken, 
but they had to live.  They both thought she was dead, actually, and 
just wanted to find the body, to bury her properly.  After a few 
months they even started to fuck again, once in a while, though it was 
mostly for comfort and wasn't very good.  No one ever considered that 
the wife could be a victim too, as she went about her routine 
activities across the days, mainly avoiding her friends who would want 
to make conversation.

	She had lost weight, though as a middle-aged American woman she 
was still plumpish.  Her husband didn't seem to mind that her thighs 
had grown flabby.  To the captor, she was a project, something to 
occupy his time and please him now that her daughter was thoroughly 
mastered and, therefore, less interesting.  So it was that on the 
third-month anniversary of the day he took her daughter he accosted 
her as she left a grocery store and started to enter her car, using 
his best cop voice to say "Ma'am, we have some news of your daughter."

	"What is it?"  She almost shouted, too shaken and giddy to 
wonder why a cop would track her down at the grocery store.

	"We've found some recent photos  We think they are her."  He 
showed her two color snaps.  In one her daughter was hanging from the 
ceiling by dark straps attached to cuffs on her wrists.  There were 
some whip marks on her belly and breast buds.  The other was a close-
up of her daughter's face, an erection clearly just emerging from her 
mouth and spurts of semen on her eyes and cheek.  He had chosen them 
carefully, so he could watch her face when she realized what they 
meant.

	The mother sank half way to the ground and grabbed her stomach.  
She was almost sick right then.  This was the thing worse than death 
that she and her husband had avoided ever mentioning.  "Ma'am, if 
you'll come here with me."  He opened the door of his SUV and she 
climbed in distractedly, her mind on what was happening to her baby.  
The moment both were in he snapped a cuff on one wrist and put his gun 
to her face.  The windows were strongly darkened, and it would be 
difficult for anyone outside to see anything.
 
	"Do exactly what I say and you will live to see your daughter."  
She didn't understand, so just sat there breathing rapidly while he 
cuffed her hands together.  He snapped a hinged a collar around her 
neck.  A cord from it went to a ring bolted to the floor, and he used 
that to pull her head all the way down between her knees, below the 
level of the window, and hold her tightly in place.

	"What are you doing?  Let me go!  Where is my daughter?"  He 
pushed a rubber ball into her mouth, tied it in place with a thin 
leather belt, then pulled a stocking cap over her head to blindfold 
her.  She continued to make frightened, indecipherable sounds behind 
the gag for a bit.

	"I'll answer your three questions.  First, I am kidnapping you.  
Second, no, I will not let you go.  You are my plaything now, and 
you'll learn above all other things to please me.  And, third, your 
daughter is where we're going.  I have her and I certainly have you."  
It was that easy.

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-

	The transition from being a free person to being the prisoner of 
a rapist, bound, gagged, and blindfolded, being taken to some unknown, 
probably fearful, place, is a profound thing for a woman.  She was 
disoriented, shaking, crying, trying to think.  From the photos she 
had an idea of what would happen.  Combined with the ball in her mouth 
this brought her waves of nausea.  What would her husband think?  How 
long would it be before anyone knew she was missing?  Could she be 
brave in the face of this?  Her daughter was alive.  Or was she?  Oh 
what she had faced?  Oh what would she face herself?  She pulled and 
struggled at her bindings for awhile, and he let her, and in the end 
this reinforced her sense of helplessness.  Above all:  would he kill 
her?  Please dear God don't let him hurt me too much.  Her prayer was 
destined to be unanswered.

	After a short while he stopped to uncuff her arms and fix them 
behind her back.  It wasn't hard.  He undid the cord and led her from 
the car.  She didn't know what to do but to follow his directions.  He 
lifted her, placed her in the trunk of another car, then continued on 
for a long time.  His great strength increased her dread.  She lay in 
the blackness, with nothing to occupy her but terror and her growing 
need to urinate.

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	When he stopped again he just lifted her from the trunk and put 
her on the ground.  She had to lean against him until she regained her 
feet.  He held her arms tightly and muscled her along, she stumbling 
and making very muted cries through her gag, up a few stairs, then 
down what seemed like many, and around, to a place that smelled damp.  
He pulled off the stocking cap, untied the belt, let her spit out the 
ball, and undid her hands.

	The lights blinded her for a moment, though they were not 
bright.  She was in a large room with concrete walls and floor.  No 
windows.  Some doors came off from it.  She backed away from him, 
looking for an escape route, and he let her.  "After you try to 
escape, I'm going to punish you for it.  Severely.  Remember that."  
Still she ran to the nearest door.  It was made of metal painted to 
look like wood, and it was locked.  She was desperate and ran to 
another.  Same result.  She put her back to it.  "You will regret 
that.  You *will* learn to obey and please me.  Now, come to the 
middle of the room and strip off all your clothes."

	She didn't move, of course, which pleased him to no end.  This 
would be so much fun.  She finally managed to talk:  "What are you 
doing?  If it's money you want we can get it for you.  You can't get 
away.  The police will find you."  All the old lines from B-movies, 
but they were all she could dredge up.  His only answer was to pull 
out a long, leather whip he had been holding behind his back and slash 
her across the hips.

	She screamed a hoarse, short, lovely sound, grabbed herself 
around the middle with both arms, doubled over, held herself tight.  
She was trying not to cry, not succeeding, and her mouth was twisted 
oddly.

	"Now, you'll step to the middle of the room and strip off your 
clothing.  Then I'll punish you for trying to escape."

	She crept to the center, still crying, her eyes rheumy, saying 
now "please, please" through twisted lips.  Her crying had become 
stuttering gasps and hiccups, interspersed with snuffles.  Maybe she 
would be too easy to master?  He didn't do anything, so she began 
unbuttoning her blouse.  She had trouble pulling the tail out because 
the pants were too tight.  She unsnapped and unzipped the pants, 
finished unbuttoning the blouse, and slipped it off.  She didn't know 
just what to do with it, so held it off from herself, still crying, 
still begging "please."  

	"Just drop it," he said.  "You won't be needing it any more."  

	At those words she stood completely still.  Then she fell to the 
concrete floor.  "Oh please dear God don't kill me.  Dear God, I'll do 
anything for you."  She was having a hard time talking, because of the 
crying.  "I'll do anything you want.  Isn't it enough you took my 
daughter?  Please don't do this..." and so on.  He used the whip 
again, to shut her up.  Again she shrieked and tried to hold herself 
very still, but put both her hands before her eyes and rocked back and 
forth.

	"You'll do anything I say anyway.  Now you'll stand up and take 
off the rest of your clothes and get ready for your punishment.  If 
you try to cover yourself with your hands it'll go worse for you."

	She rose slowly, crying but no longer begging.  He thought that 
was too bad, because when he struck her his penis gave him a jolt.  
She bent to untie her walking shoes, then slipped them off.  It was a 
bad position.  She stood on one leg to pull the other show off and 
almost fell both times.  She was shaking, which made it worse.  She 
pushed down the tight slacks, pulling her panties part way down with 
them, then yanked the panties back up.  She reached behind to unsnap 
her bra and hung her head while she removed it and let her breasts 
drop into view.  They were medium sized, well defined like pears, with 
large, dark brown areolas, around which were a few almost black hairs.  
She thought she couldn't stand for him to look at them.  Finally she 
pulled off her panties, revealing her large muff of mousy brown hair, 
untrimmed for any bathing suit.  She stood with her arms at her sides, 
sniffling.  She was still shaking, shivering, not from cold.  
Everything was in a pile on the floor.

	He walked up to her.  "You don't ever resist or avoid me.  I 
decide what happens to you.  And you only talk if I want you to."  He 
had not raised his voice at any time.  With that, he ran his palms 
over  her breasts making circular motions.  He pinch her nipples hard 
to get them to stand erect.  She winced and held her breath and didn't 
move.  He ran his fingers lightly from her breasts down her belly to 
her muff.  He grabbed a thick plug of pubic hair and yanked it out, at 
which she gasped and whimpered.  He moved his hand up to her face, 
caressed her cheek, caressed her lips with his right thumb, made her 
open her mouth and suck in his thumb.  When she did that she started 
crying again, but still managed to hold herself still.

	"Now let's kiss sweetly."  His face was right up to hers and she 
stared at his mouth.  She wanted to keep hers closed from that, but 
she was afraid.  He said "open your lips" and put his mouth on hers.  
She forced hers open and felt his tongue move into her mouth, licking 
her tongue, her lips, the inside walls of her mouth.  She could smell 
his breath.  His mouth had a strong taste.  She almost gagged.

	"Raise you arms above your head.  No.  As far up as you can 
raise them."  She raised her arms and noticed for the first time that 
black leather cuffs descended from rings in the ceiling, held by 
ropes.  She tried to hold still while he cuffed her wrists, but she 
was shaking too much, and he had to hold them steady himself.  Once he 
had her cuffed he walked to a spot on the wall that the ropes came to, 
and pulled until she was all but off the floor, her toes barely 
touching.  He tied off the ropes.  He tied other ropes to her ankles 
and used them to pull her legs out toward rings set in the floor, 
until her feet were off the floor and she was stretched between hands 
and feet.  The immobility frightened her still more.  Was this when he 
killed her?  

	The stretching pressed her bladder.  In a tiny voice she said "I 
have to go to the bathroom."

	He hit her across the belly again with the whip.  This time she 
cried loudly and swayed back and forth in her bindings, unable to make 
any other movements.  "You never talk unless I tell you to.  And you 
hold whatever you've got until I give you permission to go.  What do 
you have to do?"

	A tinier voice: "Wet."

	"You can wait until tomorrow for that."  She wouldn't have it 
that long, and this would be exquisite.

	He approached her again and caressed her breasts very gently, 
then squeezed and kneaded them and pulled on her nipples.  He wet the 
nipples with his saliva and when they were slippery he pulled them out 
until they popped loose from his fingers.  She turned her head away, 
which was hard to do as her arms pointed upward in a pyramid form and 
her upper arms pressed on her ears.  She continued to quake and 
occasionally to moan quietly, but mostly she whimpered.  He caressed 
her armpits, smooth from a recent shaving.  He put his face in one and 
inhaled.  He licked it thoroughly, then he nipped just the top layer 
of flesh until he broke the skin.  He did the same to the other pit.  
He licked the drops of blood that formed.  

	"You won't use anti-perspirent anymore.  It want to taste you."  
He moved down her belly, licking it and giving more nips, at each of 
which she returned a louder, sharper  whimper, giving the entire 
interaction the appearance of a sweetly and sensually choreographed 
love scene.  When he rose he did not look sweet, though.  "You are 
fat," he said severely.  "You have a gut and your thighs are 
completely lumpy.  That won't last long, though.  When I'm done with 
you, you'll be as trim as any eighteen year old."

	He left for a minute, then returned with a paper bag, a clothes 
basket, and what looked like a large suitcase.  He stuffed all her 
clothes into the paper bag, stripped, and carefully folded his 
clothing before putting it all in the basket.  He had a somewhat hairy 
body, very muscled, with some fleshiness.  She didn't want to see his 
penis but couldn't turn away from it, and there it was, dark and long 
and round, pointing almost straight at her, instead of curving upwards 
like her husband's.  The head was large, too, and the back of it 
flanged out dramatically.  His balls were large and especially hairy.  
She knew what was coming.

	He spread some lubricant on his shaft, played with himself for a 
minute, then applied a gob of lubricant to her vagina, pushing fingers 
in, pulling on her labia, thumbing her clitoris.  She jerked at the 
stimulation and said "no, please, no."  He slapped her hard across the 
face, twice, to make her stop.  He lined up his penis, got it to the 
entrance of her vagina, and pushed up into her with one smooth, slow 
thrust. His penis was so big that it made her grunt.  She felt it bump 
against her cervix.  Feeling him up and inside her, tight all the way, 
she started to cry openly again.  

	He made her open her mouth and gave her deep French kisses.  She 
just hung there until he made her kiss him back, pushing her tongue 
into his mouth and sliding it over and around his tongue, sucking on 
his tongue, tasting his strong taste and breathing his breath and 
drinking his saliva.  He made her hold her tongue in his mouth while 
he bit  it.  When she jerked it back, he grabbed her left breast and 
twisted almost all the way around until she pushed her tongue back in 
and held it there while he chewed on it.  She was trying to scream 
during this, but his mouth muffled her cries.  

	Her bladder was bursting, cramping, feeling like she held an 
electric wire in her urethra.  She didn't think she could hold it much 
longer.  Her shoulders were starting to ache. 

	He began fucking her faster, and came for a long time, pushing 
upward so hard that his penis and hips lifted her, taking some 
pressure off her arms for a moment.  "That was the first orgasm you're 
going to give me tonight."  He murmured it gently into her ear.  Then, 
without any ceremony, he pulled out of her, reached into the suitcase 
for a long, thick leather belt, and started whipping her.

	There was no hurry to his whipping.  He swung the belt very hard 
and it made a splatting sound as it hit.  She jumped and yelled that 
hoarse scream at the first stroke.  There was plenty of time to feel 
it before the next one, and again before the next.  She again screamed 
"please, no, God," and all the rest, though only in short bursts 
because the belt knocked the wind from her.  The belt was three inches 
wide, and he covered her pretty evenly, beginning at her collarbone 
and moving steadily down to her knees, taking special care for the 
insides of her thighs.  

	Before he was halfway down, she was only shouting "oh" at each 
stroke, so quickly was her energy drained.  She was gasping, choking, 
and had begun sweating so much that a fine spray broke from her at 
each stroke.  It was when he hit right at her bladder that she pissed 
all down her legs.  He stopped for just a moment, took her face 
between his hands and, looking her right  in the eyes, told her :  
"For disobeying me and not showing any discipline, I'm going to double 
your punishment."  

	When he finished the front he went around back and whipped her 
from the base of her neck down to the backs of her knees.  The force 
of the strokes caused her to swing back and forth.  After he reached 
her knees he went around to the front and started over.  She never 
stopped crying "oh" as the belt hit her.

	When he was finally finished he inspected her red body like it 
was a miraculous find, pulling, pinching, and rubbing skin.  His 
fingers came away with blood.  She hung like a sack, gasping, not even 
whimpering anymore.  

	"That's the way I like you," he told her. He was fully erect 
again, and fucked her again, but she didn't react, so he held her head 
up and made her suck his tongue again.  She was so tired she could 
hardly do it, and when he bit her tongue she hadn't the strength to 
pull it back.  When he came again his prick again lifted her, but she 
was just a rag doll.  Still, when he came at her again with the broad 
belt a few minutes later she did say, in just the tiniest whimper and 
for the last time that night:  "oh no, please no."  

	He did her just once over this time.  When he was done he put 
the gag back on her, inserted ear plugs, and put the stocking cap on 
her again.  He turned on a  white noise machine.  Then he turned out 
the light and left, closing the door behind him, leaving her hanging 
in the dark.
