Chapter 3: Measure Twice – in which Drew collects additional data about Kari.
Author’s note – this story series is a fantasy of non-consent, including rape and kidnapping of a woman by many men and in many orifices. This chapter has a particular focus on incredibly inappropriate uses of various objects. Stay away if these are triggers for you, and enter joyously if these are your turnons. Luckily, a thorough embrace and enjoyment of these fantasies doesn’t in any way endorse or imply approval of such actions in reality. If, after a wank to the happily crafted and entirely imaginary perversions below, you feel like doing some good in the world to alleviate such shitty realities, throw a couple bucks towards rainn.org and/or endhumantrafficking.org. Regardless, please enjoy!
After Evan leaves, the stinging slowly, slowly abates, and she somehow drifts back into sleep again even as the light behind the window blinds grows brighter.
Drew, unlike Evan, knocks sharply on the door, though he doesn’t wait for a response before he opens it. Looks like that was enough though, because she’s awake, blinking blurrily. She’s still cuffed to the bed, her mouth still covered with duct tape.
She takes a glance at the light behind the blinds, and the change tells her some time has gone by.
He notices her glance even as he’s putting down his bag of equipment, setting up his laptop on the small desk that sits perpendicular to the bed, near her feet. “Eleven thirty,” He says, voice inflectionless. “Time to take your measurements.”
She can see his screen from her position on the bed, though not clearly – it’s just a little too far away. A spreadsheet?
He’s opened the usual datasheet, where he’s kept the measurements of every girl that’s been in the house. This will be the dozenth row.
He looks at the bedside table, sees the mostly-squeezed lemon half. His nose wrinkles slightly and he picks it up carefully, as if it might be dirty, knowing Evan’s habits.
He leaves the room – she heards a cabinet door open and close, then the sound of a running faucet. When he returns, she can see his hands are still slighty damp. He unzips the bag and reaches in.
First, a towel, which he lays over the bedside table. Then Drew carefully pulls out his tools, one by one. A spray bottle of disinfectant – rubbing alcohol, for its purity and its… bracing effects. Then a pair of vernier calipers (which looked to her like a ruler with a metal jaw on one side, with another that could slide back and forth, along with a small but telescoping metal spike – almost like an antenna, with tiny measurement markings – on the other end). A standard metal measuring tape, more typical to a construction site but useful for this purpose as well. A headlamp. A tiny bag containing two metal eyebooks and two clamps. A ball of string and a small pair of scissors. Several small, long spoons, and a set of stoppered vials. And then, a speculum, followed by a second one. Having neatly arranged the items on the towel, he takes a final survey and then gives a small nod. This will do.
He leaves the room a last time and returns with a stepstool. Grabbing the small bag, he tucks the ball of string under his arm and the small scissors into a pocket. He steps up to the top step, leaning slightly out over the bed. Her eyes go up and see two small metal holes in the ceiling, above her. He reaches into the small bag and then up, now holding a metal circle with what looked like a long screw sticking out of it. He begins screwing the straight part up into one of the holes, then does the same with the other. Now two metal loops stick down from the ceiling, right above her chest. He then takes the ball of string, unwinding a section that’s long enough to reach from the ceiling down the mattress – he then doubles that and cuts, and feeds half of the length of string through the metal loop so it tickles on her chest, releasing the other end so it hangs down alongside.
As he does all this, she finds her eyes wandering over the profile of his body – slender, tall, his black skin faintly reflecting the sunlight, the wireframe glasses suiting his serious face. His hair is cropped close, dark like the rest of him. He’s dressed casually, just a t-shirt and jeans, but he looks… she catches herself. Is she seriously checking out one of her kidnapper rapists? What the hell is wrong with her?
The string measuring and cutting routine is repeated for the other metal eye, leaving her with four ends of string resting on her tits from the ceiling, and he steps down the ladder, heedless of her discomfort or its potential reasons.
He sets the small bag down – she hears it clinking, so something must be left inside – and reaches over for the calipers. Opening them up, and brushing the dangling string ends aside, he places the stationary jaw so it just touches the outside edge of her breast. Then he slowly closes the moving jaw until it just starts to dig into the inner edge of her breast, then takes note of the number of the ruler. He goes to make a note in the spreadsheet, and returns.
This time, he moves the jaws much closer together, and moves it up towards her nipple. She watches nervously as he places the jaws on either side and then moves them together, slowly, until they just touch either side of her nipple. He pauses there, takes a reading – and then gradually pushes the outer jaw tighter, compressing her nipple between the two hard, metal edges. She watches in growing horror as her nipple is compressed – is he going to cut it off? Finally, the pain grows too much and she lets out a soft cry, audible through the muffling cotton and tape – immediately he stops, takes a second reading, and removes the calipers. Two numbers are added to the spreadsheet this time. As he goes back over to the side of the bed, she notices, despite the neutral expression on his face, that his cock is hard inside his jeans, pressing out against the denim.
He repeats the same three measurements – the width of her breast, the width of her nipple, and how narrow it can be squeezed before she cries out – on the other side. Then, placing the calipers back down, he picks back up the small bag and upends it into his hand. Two metal clips settle into his palm. They are long, and look almost like flat, metal clothespins with small teeth on the inside edges, with some kind of black, rubbery substance coating them. There’s a metal loop at the very top.
He presses one open, reaching out and taking hold of one of her nipples. He holds the clip so that it points down towards her breast, carefully releasing it so the entire length of her nipple is captured, compressed, lengthened. The small teeth and rubbery coating grip on firmly. She groans through the gag. Then he grabs one of the dangling lengths of string, running it through the loop at the top of the clip and tying a quick knot. Finally, he takes the other end of the same string in one hand, and slowly begins to pull.
She watches in horrified fascination as her breast is pulled up by her nipple. It hurts fiercly, the cuts from this morning not really healed. But he keeps pulling, this time not stopping when she begins to moan in pain. He keeps pulling, very slowly, his eyes taking in every detail as her breast is stretched, her nipple crushed and held between the rubbery coated teeth.
He keeps going until it truly feels like the string cannot be pulled any farther. She’s screaming now, behind the panties and duct tape. Her breast has been pulled into a long cone, her nipple distended in the clamp, the tiny veins beneath her tender flesh standing out pale blue on her taunt skin.
Holding the string still, now, he threads the end of it through the circle on the clamp and ties it off, leaving her breast stretched. Picking up the metal measuring tape, he places the cold metal tip at the base of her breast and carefully measures the height to which her tit has been stretched. Then, he squints carefully as he checks the length of her compressed nipple inside the long clamp. Those numbers go in the spreadsheet as tears gather and spill from her eyes, sobs of pain coming from deep in her chest.
He pauses for a moment, unzipping his pants and pulling out his erect cock. Standing next to her, looking down at her, the wet tracks on her face. He fists his cock once, twice, three times – then carefully puts it back away. He picks the last knot he tied loose, and lets a little slack into the string. Her breast still hangs painfully, but comparatively, it feels bearable, and her crying slows.
Of course, the next thing he does is repeat the whole affair on her other tit. The clamp, the string, the so-gradual pulling, the tie off, the measurement. She can’t help herself, crying again, more tears, and once again he stops briefly while her breast is pulled unbearably tight, the other one dangling beside it, and unzips. One, two, three strokes, as he drinks in the sight of her abused tits, the sounds coming from behind her gag, and then back to business, loosening the string, so her breasts both hang, clamped and pulled high, with just enough slack to make it the pain manageable.
Drew pauses briefly to grab, don, and switch on the headlamp. Then he pulls the pillow from under her head abruptly, and manhandles it underneath her lower back and buttocks. Each time he moves her body while doing this it pulls on her nipples and she lets on a muffled shriek. Once the pillow is in place – lifting up her pelvis so both her cunt and ass are readily accessible – he briefly examines her cunt, swiping with his fingers to part her lips. Thick fluid oozes out, clinging to his fingers. He turns back to the bedside table, wiping his wet fingertips briefly on the edge of the towel and picking up the spray bottle and a speculum. Giving it a thorough spritzing, he moves it down and inserts it into her pussy in a long, smooth thrust. She grunts as the rounded metal edges bump up against her cervix, and flinches as the still-damp alcohol seeps into the tiny cuts inside her pussy, stinging deep in her cunt.
Now he begins to open the speculum, larger and larger. One inch, two, and then past it… she can feel her cunt aching more and more with each turn of the screw, sucking in breath sharply through her nose as she tries to cope with the pain building in her belly. Finally, he is satisfied that the speculum is open to its farthest reasonable extent. She feels as though her skin is about to tear.
He checks the diameter to which the speculum is open, records that. Then he picks up the measuring tape, and begins to extend it into her open cunt. She shudders at the scraping metallic sound.
He watches the tape go in, the thin metal unrolling bright yellow as it extends back into her open hole. He sees her jerk as the square metal tip brushes her insides, as a sharp edge bumps against the sensitive flesh. Leaning down, he looks up inside her, the light from his headlamp illuminating her wet, quivering cunt, reflecting off the tape. The straight edges stand out as completely unnatural against the curves of her inner walls, a foreign object that seems to rape her cunt while barely touching it. He shivers a little despite himself – and intentionally lets the end of the tape drop as he continues extending, ever so slowly, watching the shiny metal tip drag against her pussy flesh. He can see the tiny scratches, still red against the pink, and as the edge of the metal tape head catches, he wonders if its on her natural folds or on the still raw edges of those wounds.
The end of the tape bumps against something, and she jerks. He knows it’s hit her cervix, that sensitive, tight gateway – but he pushes the tape a little farther anyway, depressing that inner flesh and bringing forth a long, deep groan of pain. He checks the final measure – eight inches and five sixteenths.
He contemplates letting the tape snap itself closed, but knows the chances are good that the resulting slice in her cunt would damage her permanently. So he gradually lets it slide back out, covered in shiny moisture, folding back into the roll. Her cunt is practically pouring with wetness – drops oozing out from inside and around the metal speculum, spilling down all the way to her asshole. He sets the tape measure aside, and picks up the shorter of the spoons.
He sprays it down briefly, and then picks up and unstoppers one of the vials, holding it in his other hand. He inserts the spoon up into her cunt, about an inch past the entrance, and digs it into her slick wall. In a slow, dragging motion, he scoops it down, the edge dragging against her inner flesh. Then he withdraws it – the spoon full of translucent liquid – and drops it into the vial, which he stoppers. He reaches out and picks up the second, longer spoon, the delicate handle about eight inches long.
He slides this spoon in – all the way in. Back up to the very end of her cunt, to her already abused cervix. And this one he digs in hard – pressing back and down, scratching, turning the spoon this way and that. He pulls it out a little and jams it back in, stabbing at her deepest flesh, using the curved metal instrument to scrape deeply inside her raw, stretched-open cunt. She moans, anguished and muffled. For a brief moment, his aloof manner slips and raw lust shows on his face. He fucks her wide open cunt with the spoon, out, then back in, banging her cervical opening with the metal tip over and over again, each time drawing a muffled scream from her. He puts the handle between his palms and spins it rapidly, the spoon slapping in circles deep inside her gaping pussy.
He swallows, and stops. A single, final swipe of the spoon deep in her cunt and he pulls it out, brimming full as well, but this come is slightly pinkish. He drops that into another vial, stoppers it. And reaches for the spray bottle – and the second speculum, slightly narrower than the first but just as long.
After cleaning it, he actually slides the closed anal speculum inside her still wide open pussy, rubbing it around to coat it with her flowing juices. Then he touches it to her asshole – already drenched on the outside from her gushing cunt – and begins to press it in.
She groans as he slides it up, up, the metal invading her tight anus. He pushes it all the way up and in, eight inches of cold metal sliding into her ass.
And then he starts to open it. One inch. Two inches. And past. He wants to open it as far as the one in her cunt, to stretch and force her asshole into a kind of twisted symmetry with her cunt. Her screams reverberate past the tape on her mouth but he keeps cranking, each eighth of an inch a new hell on her abused ass – but he gets what he wants. Two holes stretched over two and a half inches wide each.
For this one, though, he doesn’t use the measuring tape. Instead he picks up the calipers, and extends the telescoping metal spike on the far end. A depth probe, with tiny, precise measurement markings. He slides it up into her open asshole, once again bending to get a clear view of her taut, stretched insides. Her tight anal passage gleams, as does the metal probe, and he presses it deep within her, past even the end of the speculum, pushing it past where her flesh puckers back together. He looks up and watches as her stomach tightens, cramp hitting her, and he wiggles the probe slightly, watching her twitch in response. Then his eyes go up farther, to dangling breasts – nipples pinched and horribly red in the clamps, hanging from the long strings. Then back to her inner ass. It seems the probe won’t go any farther – at least without risk of tearing something – so he takes the measurement – ten inches and three eighths, not too bad – and withdraws the probe.
He stands up, walks to her head, and rips the duct tape off – muffled scream – then pulls out the wadded remains of her panties. She spits and coughs, moaning, trying to hold still so she doesn’t pull on her breasts.
“You can ask one question.” He says, flatly.
“Wha….” she can barely make words, her mind completely jumbled. Finally, she manages, softly, “Why are you doing this?”
“The measurements will let us make things that fit you. Or don’t just barely fit you. Evan particularly prefers that, actually.”
“That’s not what I…”
“You’ve had your one question. Now shut up.” His voice is cold, and she finds herself obeying. He unzips his pants again, pulls his cock back out. It stands up, dark and slender and long, like him. Maybe nine inches total. He reaches down, unscrews the anal speculum, slides it out, places it aside. Then he gets up on the bed.
She watches, dumbfounded, as he does the same thing to his cock as he did to the anal speculum – slips it inside her gaping cunt, rubs it around, coating it with liquid from inside her gaping pussy. His eyes burn into hers, and she can almost hear him saying it: _Slut. Filthy wet whore._
Then, leaving the speculum in her cunt, he places his cockhead against her anus and begins to push.
“Oh no, god, you can’t…”
He buries his cockhead inside her roughly, then shoves again, burning another two inches. The sharp thrusts cause her breasts to move and bounce, and he reaches one hand up and slaps her right tit, pulling more, the strung up clamp digging cruelly into her nipple. She screams in anguish.
He pulls his cock back out, and starts again, this time agonizingly slow. With the speculum still stretching her pussy, her ass feels impossibly tight, even having just held the wide speculum. Each slow inch seems to hurt more than the last. He reaches up suddenly, grabs the clamps on her nipples, and releases them.
“OH FUCK -” Far worse than anything that’s been done to them so far, she feels the blood rushing back into her abused nipples and she howls, her arms pulling sharply and ineffectually against the cuffs.
And then he seizes her throbbing, burning nipples tightly, one in each hand, and it feels like he uses them to pull himself the rest of the way up into her ass.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh – ” Her scream becomes wordless. Pain. Her cunt is stretched wider than it’s ever been, nine inches of cock are raping her ass, and as he starts to fuck her in earnest she can feel his grip tightening on her nipples. Everything hurts.
He lets go of one nipple and reaches down. She jolts, as if electrocuted, as his fingers find her clit, above her wide stretched pussy. Swiping the juice dripping from her pussy, he begins to rub it, watching her face.
“You’re going to come with an eight inch speculum in your cunt and a nine inch cock fucking your ass, after having your tits hung from the ceiling for over twenty minutes.” He says matter of factly, even as sweat beads on his brow. Then he pauses in fucking her ass, in rubbing her clit, and she shakes beneath him as he reaches over to the table – grabs another long spoon, like the one he’d shoved deep in her cunt before. And for the first time, he smiles, as he slides the spoon up inside her wide-open cunt. It’s just long enough that a bit of the handle pokes out. He reaches down and starts rubbing her clit again.
“Correction. You’re going to come with an eight inch speculum spreading your gaping cunt – open over two and a half inches wide – with a nine inch cock raping your fucking ass, after having your tits tortured and hung up for almost half an hour -” and here he slams his cock into her ass all the way, and his pelvis rams into the end of the spoon, driving it up and slamming its metal end deep inside her pussy, crushing against her most tender inner flesh – “while a metal spoon is pounded up into your fucking cervix and one of your nipples is being crushed.” And the fingers of his left hand make good on that last promise, grabbing the tender tip of her breast, and squeezing it, rubbing it. And as he pulls his cock halfway out and drives it back in – slamming the spoon, digging it in deep again – his right hand moves back to her clit, flicking it sharply. “Oh, and while I abuse your fucking clit.” He flicks it again, hard. Fucks her ass. Slams the spoon. Grinds her nipple. Flick. Fuck. Slam. Grind.
The trek through the woods seemed like the perfect way to spend the week. Frank had worked like a madman for the last six months since earning his promotion. Debbie missed him intensely for most of that time and had to pull double duty at home. She not only kept the home running she also had to do the major chores around the house as Frank was getting established in his new position. It had been a hard half year. Now however, Frank was able to take some vacation. Debbie suggested that they take the extended hike so that the two of them could commune with nature, decompress, and hear each other think and talk. Frank was three years older than his wife. At 33 and 30 they were the local power couple.
Debbie was looking forward to a week in the deep woods. They would share the small tent and catch up on all the sex that they had had to put off over the months. Debbie loved Frank intensely. He was six foot one with rugged good looks. He had not had much time to work out over the last half a year so he could afford to drop at least ten pounds but he was a powerfully built man. His strawberry blond hair and blue eyes set off his dazzling smile. Debbie was quite the package herself. Tall, like her husband, she stood five seven and had long brown hair, a heart shaped face and bowed lips. Her legs were long and tapered. Her weight was ideal. Her eyes were sparkling blue. She did not like her breasts, however. They were large enough to keep her from getting modeling jobs when she was in college.
While she got occasional work for photographers she wanted to do catwalk work. However, more than one modeling agent said her tits were too big, that she would attract attention to herself and detract from the dresses she was wearing. For revenge she had become a purchaser for a major woman’s wear store. She attended fashion shows several times a year and made it clear that she wanted models that looked more like real women at those shows. “No bags of antlers, no flat chests” was her dictum. She had the power to see her wishes implemented.
Debbie put the trip together. They would drive to Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia and take a ten day hike along the Appalachian Trail. After the ten days were over they would rent a car return to Harper’s Ferry and schedule a night in a luxury hotel before they drove home. It was a perfect plan.
Frank would carry the portable tent, his sleeping bad and most of the food. Debbie would carry her sleeping bag the portable stove and their clothes. They were not taking too many clothes but Debbie thought that the togetherness and shared time together would more than make up for any body odor and inconvenience. They expected that there would be places they could leave the trail and get cleaned up.
Things went smoothly for the first four days. Debbie and Frank set up the tent at night. The weather was mostly wonderful with only one brief shower delaying them at one point. Frank and Debbie made love often. Sometimes in open fields on just a blanket. They were having a wonderful time and Debbie was very proud of herself for coming up with the idea,
On the fifth morning however things were different. After hiking for a while Frank announced glumly that “The GPS is dead.”
“Are you sure, Frank? Asked Debbie.
“Positive, I can’t get a spark out of it. It’s not the batteries either because every new set of batteries results in the same thing – a blank screen.”
“What can we do? Do we have a map?”
“We DID d have map but you spilled hot chocolate on it two nights ago, remember?”
“What can we do?”
“The cell phones can’t get a signal either. We must have gone off the trail at some point. Keep your eye out for trail markings.”
Frank assured them that if they hiked in the direction he indicated they would be sure to reach the trail and civilization. Hours later there was no sign of either.
“Well Princess it looks like we are fucked royally,” Frank said at last.
Just then Debbie’s nose detected the aroma of burning wood. Shortly thereafter in a small valley they saw a cabin with smoke emanating from its chimney!
“I hope that they have a phone!” Said Debbie
“At the very least they can tell us where we are and how to get back on the trail. My vote however is for finding the nearest Wal-mart and buying a new GPS AND a spare!” Said Frank.
When the couple were ten feet from the cabin they heard a rifle shot and the order, “Freeze!”
Frank and Bonnie noticed the rifle barrel protruding from one window. The front door of the cabin opened and a man with another rifle stood and leveled the weapon at them!
“Please sir, friend,” said Frank, “We mean you no harm. We are a lost couple who need directions that’s all.”
The man at the door of the cabin looked about 45 he was much bigger than Frank and had a sour expression on his bearded face.
“It appears to me that you are trespassers and should be treated accordingly.” The man spat in return
“We’ll just go back the way we came.” Frank said calmly.
Frank and Debbie began inching backwards and met a rifle barrel. So focused on the aggressive looking mountain man in the doorway of the cabin neither Debbie nor Frank noticed that the owner of the rifle from the window had made his way out of the cabin and placed himself behind Frank and Bonnie.
Upon seeing the rifle, Frank and Bonnie turned to see a thin rangy figure. He seemed to be either in his late teens or early adulthood, The countenance of the two faces were strikingly similar.
“Father and son” Frank concluded instantly.
The youth said “Get your hands up and head for the cabin. Try to make a break for it and I will give you both barrels and Pa will do the same to your lady friend.”
All Frank had on him were a couple of knives and those were in his backpack. Knowing that he did not want to enter that cabin and sure as hell did not want Debbie in there, Frank tried tuning on the charm.
“No need for that, young man, we will be on our way. We don’t want any trouble.”
“You may not have been looking for it, but you have found it.” said the old man.
“Please let us go, ” said Debbie, “We’re no threat to you.”
The next thing Debbie knew she heard Frank scream. He collapsed next to her only then did she see the knife protruding from the back of his knee.
The old man laughed and said, “Well stranger, you better let us check that wound for you.”
The rifle barrel placed firmly in the small of her back, Debbie was not even able to bend over and give her husband assistance.
“Head for the cabin,” Said the youth, “Or you will watch your boyfriend’s head get blown clean off.”
Trepidation deep in her heart, Debbie made the few short steps to the cabin, Before she realized what was happening her pack had been torn off, a rope was thrown around her waist and arms, her legs were bound and she was set down on a stool.
From her vantage point she saw her two abductors approach her prostrate husband. The pack was removed from his back. He was gagged and dragged back to the cabin by the two men. When Frank resisted, he was smacked several times by a rifle butt. It opened a nasty gash on his head. In no time he was trussed up and set down in chair opposite Debbie his head wound was issuing a lot of blood. He seemed dazed as Debbie was sure that he was.
“Your boyfriend thought that he was acting all smart and brave. In actuality he was stupid and arrogant.” Said the old man.
The youth exited the cabin and retrieved Frank’s backpack. They shut the door.
The older man approached Debbie. “Now who are you and what are you doing on my land?”
“Please let me take care of my husband.” begged Debbie.
“He’s in no danger at present. Now I don’t like repeating myself. Who the fuck are you and what are you doing on my land?”
“I’m Debbie Phelps and this is my husband Frank. We were hiking the trail and got lost. We only approached your cabin to ask for directions. That is the truth!”
“So You’re hiker’s and no one knows you are here. A man doesn’t find himself in this situation everyday.” said the older man.
He walked over to Frank. In his dazed state Frank offered no resistance as he was laid out on the floor.
“Get my bag boy.”
A short time later the youth returned with a medical bag.
“It is to your husband’s good fortune that I was a medic in the army.”
Debbie watched, grateful despite herself, as the man cut away Frank’s jeans leg and removed the knife from the back of his knee. The bleeding was considerable but in no time the man had cleaned the wound and applied sutures to his gash. Then the man closed the wound on Frank’s head.
“He’s got a concussion and will be out of it for quite a while. That gives the three of us time to get acquainted.”
“She’s very pretty, Pa” Said the man’s son.
“Well Mrs. Debbie Phelps this is my son Roger, you can call me Clyde. You don’t need to know our last names. I can tell by the way that you have reacted to your husband’s treatment that you must love him a great deal. That suits our purposes nicely,”
Debbie, having a very nasty feeling creep along her spine said, “What do you mean?”
“You see Mrs Phelps right now your husband will be OK in a few hours. Oh he’ll hobble around a bit on his leg and he will have a powerful headache, but there is no reason that the two of you can’t leave here under your own power.” As he was speaking Clyde rolled up one of Frank’s sleeves. “Unless …”
“Unless what?” asked Debbie
“Very simple Mrs Phelps. It is to your husband’s good fortune that I was a medic in the army. It is also to your husband’s considerable misfortune that I was a medic in the army.”
Clyde brought an IV out of his medical bag and inserted it in a vein of her husband’s arm.
“You may think this serves a medical purpose. Its saline solution and harmless except that I MAY take this hypodermic needle and introduce some air into the IV line. It will produce an embolism. In a very short time your husband WOULD be dead … Unless…”
Debbie knew at once what the mountaineer was hinting about.
“Oh my God!” She said.
” I see that we are on the same page.” Said Clyde. “Its been a while since I enjoyed female companionship and Roger is 19 and has yet to be introduced to the glories of the flesh. As a married woman you are like a loaf of grocery store bread. No one will notice if a few slices are missing. Entertain us and once your husband recovers we will lead you back to the trail and we each go on our merry way. I have no fear of you summoning the police for you haven’t a clue as to where you are. If we blindfold you and lead you back to the trail you will still be miles from help. City folk, for I recognized you right off as city folk, can’t navigate for shit in the woods. You couldn’t find your way back to us with a bloodhound and a team of forest rangers.”
Debbie contemplated the enormity of her situation. At last she was able to speak. “How do I know that you won’t kill us anyway?”
“Lady if I was going to kill you I would have already slit your husband’s throat and taken what I want. I had my fill of killing in the army, Oh maiming is one thing but I’m no murderer. I try to be an example to my son. Why take through violence and death that which you can obtain through peaceful means and negotiation. We both know what is going to occur, we are just in the negotiations phase. The fact that I have treated your husband shows that I’m not a ruthless killer. I’m a memorable man in the sack. I want to send you away with memories you will reflect upon and smile about for the rest of your life. If I kill you I don’t have that satisfaction, neither would I have the pleasure of knowing that by entering you, I will be inside your husband’s head for as long as he lives. What’s simple murder compared to that?”
Debbie looked at the man, He was imposing and there was a hardness about his face. He had an assured look on his face, as though nothing he had just said could be contradicted. It was almost a smirk. Debbie wondered if the beard hid a scar or if he wore it simply because of how intimidating it made him look, The boy was thinner and shorter but obviously muscular. He could not be more than 19, She wondered how long the two of them had been living in this rustic cabin She hadn’t even noticed a car or truck anywhere as she and Frank had surveyed the cabin. It was located in a valley with towering trees all about it. Its probably also invisible from the air. Debbie realized that her only hope at salvation, and the only chance Frank had for life were if she became very familiar with these men. Like a mouse in a trap she knew that she was caught.
Debbie reached for all of her inner strength and resolve.
At last she broke her silence. “I will give you what you want. But one at a time.”
The mountain man’s visage briefly wore a grin before he said. “Of course darlin’ It unseemly for a father and son to share a woman at the same time.”
The older man said, “Roger, you best check our guest for ticks. We don’t want her to get Lime disease now do we?”
“No Pa.” said the youth. He strode up to the stool where Debbie sat and unfastened the rope that bound her. Debbie moved her arms and legs to restore circulation.
“Ticks can get everywhere,” said the boy an excited hitch in his voice, “The best way to check for ticks is to check every inch of skin.”
The boy bent down and began untying and unlacing Debbie’s hiking boots. With dread Debbie allowed the young man to raise each foot and extract her boots in turn. Then he slowly removed Debbie’s socks.
When he saw the bright pink nail polish on her toes Roger said “Gee Pa, a painted lady!”
After separating and inspecting between each toe, Roger ordered Debbie to stand. She did. He unzipped and took off her spring jacket. The jacket had hidden her considerable bust from view but now it was obvious. Debbie saw Clyde do a double take and Roger let out a low whistle.
In a moment Roger’s trembling hands were working on the buttons of Debbie’s blouse. Slowly yet deliberately Debbie’s flat toned stomach and white lacy brassier were exposed. To Debbie it felt like an eternity until Roger slid the garment off her arms to join her coat and socks upon the floor. This was worse than if they had simply ordered her to strip, thought Debbie to herself in horror.
Roger seemed to take his tick hunting duties seriously as he inspected every inch of Debbie’s bare flesh. He even had her raise her arms over her head so that he could examine her armpits,
“I found one!” he said. His father gave him some tweezers and some oil and Roger removed a tick from Debbie’s underarm.
Next Roger moved on to Debbie’s jeans, He unhooked her belt unclasped and unzipped the pants. Slowly he lowered them until Debbie was able to step out of them. Underneath the jeans Debbie wore a sheer pair of skimpy white panties. Her full bush was clearly visible through the materiel. Roger eyed every inch of Debbie’s long legs. Her reached for Debbie’s bra next but the mystery of how to unclasp it was lost on the sexual neophyte. After struggling for many minutes Clyde stepped forward and said
“Here’s how you open these things, son.”
With a practised hand the father unhooked the bra, His touch was electric on Debbie’s skin. With appalling realization the wife knew that she had very little to worry about from the son but that the father was far more dangerous than she even supposed.
Roger pulled away the brassier and Debbie’s hands instinctively sought to cover herself.
“We’ll have none of that Clyde said, put your hands at your sides.” he ordered.
Debbie’s breasts were magnificent. Each was capped with a pink nipple the size of a pencil eraser amid light brown areolae; the kind that men’s magazine publishers built their empires upon. Despite her humiliation Debbie noticed the erections in the pants of both father and son. She could not tell exactly but the father seemed to be positively enormous.
Roger was amazed by Debbie’s breasts. He had never so much as copped a field before and now he was presented with world class breasts. He seemed mesmerized as he felt up Debbie. After some initial hesitation he began licking and suckling her breasts. Debbie was not sure how to react. Part of her was able to departmentalize what was happening to her. Under ordinary situations, if she had been the one seducing Roger, his actions would be harmless and sweet and a bit flattering, This was NOT that situation however.
It seemed like Roger played with her breasts for at least a half hour before his hands settled on the waistband of her panties. Roger gasped as Debbie’s bush was fully revealed.
“Look Pa! Lady fur!”
“Ticks like to hide in that son, as you well know. Take a good look, run your hands through it make sure there are no ticks hiding there.”
With due diligence Roger felt up Debbie’s nether regions To her horror, Roger found several ticks, He took a flash light in one hand and gently pried the insects from Debbie’s crotch with a tweezers in his other hand. In curiosity Roger’s fingers explored inside of Debbie’s sex and ass hole. It was the most ham-handed pawing Debbie had ever experienced. Even the most naive school boy she had seduced in high school had a better idea of what to do with a woman. Debbie realized that she must be the first woman the lad had ever seen naked. It was unlikely that the cabin had an internet connection. “Unless his father has a supply of magazines, I’m the first woman in his life.” Debbie thought to herself. Instantly she had pity for the boy. Living here was no doubt his father’s idea not his.
After that Roger ran his fingers through her long brown hair. He discovered on tick behind her left ear which he gently removed. He turned to his father and said. “I found all the ticks Pa!”
“Very good, Roger”, Said Clyde “Now this nice woman is going to help you become a man. Remember those talks we have had?”
“You mean about the bucks and the does?”
“Yes.” Clyde eyed Debbie with intensity. “This woman is a very experienced doe. She is going to lead you to your room and make a proud buck out of you. I will watch to make sure she does it right.”
“Oh boy! Pa can we keep her?”
“I’d like to son but we have an agreement to let her and her boy go. Don’t worry there will be other does. I will make sure of it.”
Roger began pulling Debbie toward a side room in the cabin. Knowing that resistance would get Frank killed Debbie allowed herself to be pulled along. It was a small room with a single bed, There were a few books and fewer toys. There were however several sets of antlers mounted on the wall. There was portrait of a pale,wan woman in a frame on the night stand, Debbie knew instinctively that she was the boy’s mother.
The father followed close behind and loomed in the doorway of the bedroom like a talisman of evil.
Debbie was especially grateful that she was on the pill. Condoms did not seem to be a lifestyle choice of these back woodsmen.
With the father looming, Debbie knew that she could not simply placate Roger with a hand job or a blow job. Although the boy would not know the difference, Debbie knew without qualification that the father would accept nothing less for his son than full penetration and orgasm.
Taking the initiative she began undressing the boy. Beneath his clothes he was firmly muscled with ab definition. His legs and buttocks were strong and powerful. In contrast to the father, the son was much better looking, Debbie could see the woman in the bedside portrait in his features. At last he was down to his underwear beneath that was a respectably sized uncut penis.
Thinking back to the virgins Debbie had deflowered, she found herself on familiar territory. Debbie liked the fact that she was first in so many mens’ lives. She knew that every subsequent lover, girlfriend, and wife would be compared to her and often come up lacking,
Thanks for the notes and comments! Please vote and leave comments, they help me improve my work, thanks!
The Heiress, continued…
Colin sat before his bank of computer monitors and watched as one of his kidnapped victims lay in a drug-induced sleep. The man’s name was Mark and he was taken captive to service his niece Clara, whom Colin had also kidnapped. Clara, had been auctioned off but he wasn’t certain what to do with Mark.
The plan was simple, if it could be proven that his niece had led an immoral life, her sizeable trust fund could be contested and he would be the beneficiary of over 80 million dollars, thanks to his father’s obsession with morality. He’d kidnapped her and a neighborhood man chosen at random, forced them together in a number of different ways, hopefully impregnated her and then photos were sent to her husband to make it appear she was having a torrid affair. When she reappears nine months later, with an illegitimate child, her trust would be lost.
“Good old Dad,” Colin thought. “Your strict moral living code finally came in handy.” His father was rich, over-bearing, demanding and luckily also dead. They hadn’t gotten along and Colin had been cut off completely. Clara, the daughter of his perfect, ass-kissing and also dead brother, inherited everything.
Colin had created an elaborate room to hold his captives and then began streaming the entire thing to a very select group of people who had handsomely to watch real captives be raped and abused, who also paid for their fantasies to be played out before them. It had turned out to be a very lucrative little side benefit. One subscriber had a fetish for incest so Colin reluctantly, although happily, raped his niece. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy looking down on Clara, the perfect and best-loved only grandchild, helplessly bound and gagged to the bed, while he fucked the shit out of her. He liked it so much that he did it twice.
He had to separate Mark and Clara, for if she really were pregnant, they had to be kept apart so they could not foil his plans. Also the twitch in his groin tended to grow insistent in her presence and it was getting hard to focus on anything else. She now was several thousand miles away, where her online life can continue until he was ready to release her. Her new captor could make his own money with her. As long as she and the baby were not harmed, he didn’t care what happened to her. If she were not pregnant, then her new keeper could find someone else to do the job.
The problem was the stud guy, Mark. Colin had failed to think much about his fate after he had served his purpose. Killing him would be the best option but not really his style. Colin was a lot of things; a degenerate, a gambler, a liar, an addict, but not a cold-blooded killer. Besides, more money could be made with him. He was just an average looking guy, nerdy and earnest, nothing to make a woman warm between the legs, until he dropped his pants. Lucky bastard was huge and his stamina was incredible. He had several inquiries from his rich and lonely subscribers, asking for some time with his beautiful cock. Colin knew a money-making opportunity when he saw it.
Clara and Mark had been held captive in a closed room, equipped with a bed, a table, a bathroom and 20 cameras, some hidden, some not. Every thrust, moan, groan and orgasm had been watched by an appreciative audience. The reaction was so positive that Colin had activated other chambers to fill the growing list of requests from his subscribers. Mark was his only true, non-consentual performer now that Clara was gone and he had the greatest number of viewers. The captive people in the other chambers paid to be there and a few were invited to be there.
Each chamber could be made to fit any scenario that was requested. The largest chamber had been recently used to host the party where Colin introduced his experimental Nympho drug and where he auctioned off his niece Clara. The winner wouldn’t get to keep her forever, just gets to rent her for awhile. The drug hits the pleasure center of the brain and enhances it so that every nerve ending is an intense pleasure point. Everyone had tried a sample and the resultant orgy was unexpected but highly entertaining. All sense of modesty and propriety were lost and his guests were lost in a sexual sensory overload that would not be contained. Colin was glad for the industrial showerheads they had installed to simulate a rain scenario.
The party and the drug were a huge hit and Colin’s House of Depravity, as Colin wryly thought of it, was fast becoming the most sought after destination for the rich and elite. It became known simply as There, as in “Have you been There?” The harder it became to get in, the more money people offered to pay. And every woman, as well as a few men, wanted to be with Mark. They wanted to be in Clara’s position, they wanted to have no control over what happened to them. Colin would give them what they wanted.
Mark woke up and automatically looked for Clara in hope she had been brought back to him. She’d been gone for days and no one would tell him what happened to her. He was nearly frantic and had started to fight anyone who came near him unless they would give him news. Eventually, they had ganged up on him and subdued him with a shot of their favorite zombie drug. Then they tied him to the bed and left him alone for hours.
He’d woken once when he felt something being inserted into his anus. The thing started to vibrate and his breathe was taken away. The drug did not allow him to move so he was helpless against it when a woman entered the room. She stood next to the bed and surveyed every inch of him. She wore a gauzy, white, transparent dress and her red hair was in a messy knot on top of her head. She wore a mask over her eyes and Mark supposed that was because of the cameras. She wanted to play but not be recognized. She straddled him and impaled herself on his ever-present hard on. She lowered herself carefully and emitted a sharp intake of breath when her cunt swallowed his helmet and she got her first idea that fucking him was going to be worth every penny. She worked slowly until she could take his entire girth, her pussy gripping his steel tightly. Her juices drenched him and she soon could move freely and without hesitation up and down his cock. She rode him like an expert and pumped him till she came. The anal vibrations electrified his balls and when he came, he fired over and over, deep into the woman’s pulsating pussy. He lay there with helpless tears streaming from his eyes. Now he knew how Clara felt when she was ravaged by him while unable to move. He felt raped, used and abused.
When he next woke up, there was someone else lying in the bed next to him. But the blonde hair was wrong, the bright blue eyes were wrong, the long red fingernails were wrong. Who the hell was this and where was Clara?
The woman was gagged and bound to the bed, her legs spread open, vulnerable and exposed. She appeared to be frightened but also a current of excitement seemed to run through her. She tugged a little at her restraints but not like escape was on her mind. Mark had a raging hard-on, probably the result of the male enhancement drug they periodically gave him because he was in no mood to perform for these people. He needed to escape and find Clara.
As he turned to the woman to see who she was, a voice came over the intercom. “Fuck her.” It simply said.
Mark started to yell “Just who the hell are you people? I demand you tell me what happened to Clara! Let me fucking go!” He was tired of this game and he wanted out of there. He was half in love with Clara and he had to have her.
The voice waited for Mark to finish his tirade and then simply said, “You will fuck this woman or we will kill her and you will never see Clara again.”
Mark looked at the woman who now had genuine fright in her eyes. She could not speak because of the gag but she made plenty of noise in protest over her death threat. She looked at him with pleading eyes. She looked to be a standard issue well-kept wife, too skinny, too maintained and too used to getting her way. She had probably paid to be here which turned him into a prostitute. Which also meant there was no way they would kill her. He refused to touch her.
The men in black came in again with their needles and held him down while they injected him with what could only be the Nympho drug. He had not been given it before but Clara had described the overwhelming sensations it forced her to feel. They injected the woman as well but she probably paid extra for that. Within moments, Mark felt on fire as he felt every inch of his body had come awake at once. He felt as if he was turning into a whole different being as his brain turned off and his skin crackled with electricity and his already huge cock became even larger and it needed to destroy something.
He turned to the bound woman and saw only her cunt. The look in his eyes was pure animal lust and she screamed as his huge rod came straight at her. He grabbed her by the waist and drove his hot iron cock deep into her gaping hole with the ferocity of a stallion and proceeded to lunge in and out of her, deaf to her screams. He rammed into her hot cunt without mercy and she nearly howled with each vicious thrust and then she squirted so hard that it was like a spray at a water park. The added liquid only fueled his fire. He tore down the ropes holding her legs apart and flipped her over, he grabbed her by her hips and once again drove his cock to the very center of her soul.
He fucked her forever, never letting up while she screamed and grunted, orgasmed and fainted, came to and orgasmed again. Finally he came and drenched her insides with a river of hot cum and he shook with relief as he pulled free of her body. Coming down off the high of the drug he saw what he had done. She lay on her stomach, breathing heavy, ragged breaths, her ravaged cunt was red, swollen and distended and a river of his cum streamed out of her to join her own contributions of the puddle in which she laid. His finger marks clearly visible all over her body. Mark did not even know her name.
“Are you ok?” he asked as he removed her gag. She breathed easier but was unable to say a coherent word. He felt shaky and trembled slightly and headed towards the shower. The hot water of the shower did not calm his still hyper-sensitive nerve endings but he forced himself to stand in it. His heart was broken and now his spirit was in danger of leaving him as well. He was reduced to the status of an animalistic prostitute, on display like in some weird zoo, his unseen audience glued to his every tear. He thought he was going to go crazy.
A black clad captor appeared with a towel and helped dry him off. Mark didn’t expect clothes as he hadn’t worn any in weeks but the captor offered him a robe and Mark put it on. It felt really weird and he wanted to take it off, nudity was a comfortable state for him now but when he left the bathroom, the woman was gone, the bed had been changed and a man was seated at the table.
Mark looked at the well dressed gentleman with a vaguely familiar face. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, strong jaw line, this could only be Clara’s Uncle Colin. The cameras were off for this discussion.
“What happened to that woman?” was Mark’s first question.
“She’s…recovering.” Colin worded carefully. “She is bathing and will rest. She paid to be a captive for three days at $20,000 a day so she’s still here. We did not mean to remove her from the chamber until her time was up but I am afraid the drug we tested on you was a little strong and you did a Mr. Hyde thing on us. We were afraid you had really done some damage to her so we are checking her out.”
Mark felt ill. He had never been anything but a tender and considerate lover until he had been taken and now he was hurting people. ‘Where is Clara?” he asked. He was calm, too exhausted to work up the fury he has been running on for the last few days.
“She is safe and will be well cared for and if you behave, you will see her again.” Colin stared at Mark’s anguished face. He knew well the look of love and concern for Clara since his father wore it often. Colin never once saw anything but contempt on his father’s face for him. He pushed away the urge to punch the look off of Mark’s face and said. “Follow orders and fulfill the fantasies of bored, rich people. This is not a bad gig, fuck all the time and get the woman you love in return.”
He stood to leave. Mark stopped him when he said, “I have a wife, she will be looking for me, she’s probably called the police.”
Colin looked him in the eye and said, “No, she’s not looking for you, she hates you. She received photos of you fucking my niece in 20 different ways. She’s been crying on the shoulder of Clara’s husband. They both want you dead.” And with that, he left.
Mark paced back and forth, the animal restless in his cage. When could he see Clara again? He knew they wanted him to impregnate her, would they wait till she gave birth? He didn’t think he would survive that long. Every faction of his life had changed when he chose to try to help her when she was attacked on a bike path. What if he hadn’t gone running that day? Would he have gone if he had known what was waiting for him down that path?
He was lost in his thoughts when he heard a commotion behind him. Four of his captors were leading in the woman he had viciously fucked. She was walking gingerly but she had a look of pure determination and defiance as the captors threw her on the bed.
“You will tell us what we want to know or that ravaged cunt of yours will just be the beginning.” One of the captors spit out. A rolling tray was brought in with whips, clamps, ropes and a number of things that Mark could not identify.
“I will never tell you, never!” The woman proclaimed. So this was her fantasy. Mark groaned and inwardly winced, he would never be able to do this.
I have been in this warm, dank cell for hours and no one will tell me where I am or why I am here. It has the look and feel of a 19th century prison but with less charm. Medieval torture devices can be seen when looking down the row of cells and I have seen naked people chained to them but so far, no real torture has occurred.
My ankle is chained to the floor and I have room to move about but mostly I try to stay in the center of my cell, away from the prying hands of the occupants in each of the adjacent cells. There were probably 30 men or so in 6 cells, three on each side of a wide row. A few cots were in each cell but not enough for everyone to have their own. The main guard is a sick little bastard who likes to stand over me and masturbate, it’s disgusting. However, I am a small, naked woman in a cell and there is nothing else to do here. In fact many of the inmates stare at me while yanking on their cocks and it is interesting to note what part of me captures their interest. My bare pussy, full breasts and tight ass provide their fair share of masturbatory aid but my feet, my throat and back of my knees also get a lot of staring time. It’s kind of weird.
I have figured out that the people in the other cells are here voluntarily when one naked man asked another naked man how much time he had left. “Just until Monday, I need to be in Singapore for a meeting.” This statement appeared to be a major break in character and both men were immediately chained to the wall in their cells. Painful looking clamps were placed on their nipples, along their abdomens and on their scrotum. Then they were whipped until their skin was bright red with welt marks. The man going to Singapore had a look of pure joy on his face for just a moment until someone slapped him and put some kind of vice on his penis.
Why would anyone subject themselves to this kind of torture?
My biggest problem was food and water. The guard, dressed in period garb, brought a tray of food and water to the door of my cell and asked if I wanted any.
“There is no way in hell I am going to touch any of that.” I yelled. He walked away visibly disappointed. I soon regretted turning away the water.
Later, the guy in the cell next to me asked “Are you thirsty? It gets warm in here.” He held up a tin cup and tapped the bars of the cell with it.
I had been sitting in tears most of the afternoon and I was thirsty. I looked at the cup and looked at him with gratitude. He grinned wickedly and said, “All it will cost you is a blow job.”
I shot him the dirtiest look I could muster. “You have got to be kidding.”
“Hey,” the guy said “It’s supply and demand. You haven’t earned your food and water.” He waggled his cup and then took a slow sip.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He grinned. “I was caught stealing a loaf of bread to feed my starving family.” His $200 haircut and perfectly toned abs told me that was not the truth. He wasn’t going to drop character.
“What did you do, Fair Maid?” he asked me.
The truth was stranger than anything I could make up so I gave him the short version, keeping it set in the period. “My evil uncle is trying to steal my inheritance so he sold me to slave traders. They put me here although I really don’t know why.”
“We occasionally get a wench in here but she is usually more accommodating.” He looked at me, took in my red eyes and puffy nose and looked thoughtful. “How about a handjob then?”
“When will the guard come next with water?” I asked.
I looked pointedly at his groin. He appeared to be sort of clean although I have never been a huge fan of oral sex. I didn’t mind going down on my husband’s cock but I could not swallow, I have vomited on him before and I didn’t like it much when he did it to me. I was always embarrassed by the position and the smell. I hated my smell all over his face. He also didn’t do it very well and he never successfully made me come that way, I would fake it to get it over with.
“How much water do you have left?” I asked.
“Half a cup and it will all be yours, I promise.” He said.
I sat and thought about it for awhile. I was painfully aware of the other prisoners watching every move of this transaction, not one single thing was hidden in this place. I had to pee in a bucket and the shower was an open stall at the end of the row. I was never going to make it till tomorrow with no food or water, despite my attempt at bravado with the guard. And I’ve had nothing to do but sit and stare at the ceiling. I was angry, bored and missing Mark.
“Alright but I want the water first.” I said. He grinned and thrust his already rock hard penis through the bars as well as the mug. Every single man in the place stood up to get a better look.
I approached him slowly and accepted the cup. It was odd tasting but cold and I drank it in two gulps. I spit in my hand and took a hold of his cock and I wanted to do a good job so this would be over quickly. I ran my hands up and down the shaft and had to admire his cock. It was a very nice cock, 7 or eight inches, good circumference, hairless and overall pleasing in appearance.
He gripped the bars above my head and threw his head back and moaned in pleasure. I grabbed one of his balls and squeezed. I tried to close my eyes and pretend I was somewhere else and I wasn’t jacking off a stranger like a junkie trying to score a hit. I tried to picture myself milking a cow when I felt the first hot shot of cum on my face. I had made certain to point the guy’s cock down so I opened my eyes in surprise to see the other men in the cell, all wanking off and all of them pointing it at me. I was soon covered although I never let go of the penis in which I was in charge, a deal was a deal. He hadn’t yet fired off, so to speed things up, I played my part and ran my hands over my breasts, smearing the cum of 5 other men all over myself. I leaned against the bars, allowing each breast to poke into their side of the cell. Mouths of complete strangers immediately attached to my nipples and sucked as if I had mother’s milk to sustain them. I was licked clean. A surge went right through me, straight to my cunt and it was now on fire. I hadn’t been properly fucked in days and all my frustrations were demanding to be released.