A Taste of Stockholm in Mexico

I didn't come to my senses all at once, and I'm not sure I was ever completely knocked out. It came more as a realization that I had been in the hotel bar, and now I was here, in the back seat of a dingy van, driving down the road.

I looked to my right, and saw a familiar face. The girl. She had been at the bar. Something was very different though. As the seconds ticked by, more details arrived in my brain from disparate locations.

The girl had been at the hotel bar in Mexico City, but there she had been wearing a cute floral print sundress, with flowing black hair falling on her shoulders. Now she was wearing camouflage cargo pants and a tan t-shirt, and her hair was tucked into a tight ponytail.

I had known to be suspicious of her when she sat next to me at the bar. She left a seat between us, but the bar was otherwise empty. She wasn't glamorous, but cute in a sporty way and probably half my age. I'd been in enough hotel bars to know what hookers looked like, and she didn't fit the profile. Neither was she the half-drunk cougar that chats you up for lack of any better entertainment. These are the only easily recognizable archetypes of women who ever sit next to me at a bar.

"Hola," she had said, without looking at me.

"Hi," I responded, not even trying with my horrible Spanish.

"Buy my drink?" She asked quietly.

I paused. There's never a good solution for this conundrum. Buy her a drink and participate in whatever scam this might be. Refuse, and be that asshole.

"Ok," I said slowly, gesturing to the bartender, who had been watching our exchange with a hint of amusement.

The girl and the bartender spoke briefly in Spanish that went by must faster than I could pick up. He looked at me, questioningly. I nodded and said, "Margarita for me, rocks, no salt. Whatever she wants."

That's about all I remember from the bar. I think the bartender brought us drinks, and I have a vague memory of the girl looking up at me with big brown eyes and long eyelashes.

Had she put something in my drink? Had the bartender been in on it? I'm not sure I'll ever know. Whatever it was had left me feeling pretty mellow about things that were not at all mellow as I looked around the van I now found myself in.

The man driving the van was tall and had short dark hair, and wiry muscular arms, wearing the same tan colored shirt that Lupe was wearing. Yes, somehow I knew the girl's name was Lupe. She must have told me at some point.

Flash bulb memories from the bar bubbled to the surface in my mind. Laughing because we couldn't understand each other, her whispering in my ear. Her hand on my thigh, big brown eyes...

There was another man in the front passenger seat. I could see a little more of him, and he was big and burly like a linebacker. I looked to Lupe, who was watching me carefully. Even without the sundress and windblown hair, she was pretty, now with a distinct tomboy affect. Her expression was unreadable; the enigmatic smile I had seen in the bar was gone, replaced with a more serious, slightly anxious demeanor.

The man in the passenger seat said something in Spanish that seemed to be directed at Lupe. I didn't catch it all, but it seemed like part of it was "before the medicine is gone" or maybe "wears off".

Lupe responded by reaching into a backpack at her feet and producing what looked like handcuffs. Not the metal kind that cops have, but the plastic loop kind. She gestured at my hands, indicating that I should hold them in front of me. I instantly complied. Why did I do that? She casually advanced the zip ties over my hands, pulling the plastic pieces so that they tightened around my wrists. I don't like that. This seems wrong.

I rested my hands on my lap, twisting my wrists trying to find a position where the plastic didn't dig into my skin. Lupe, who had been watching me as if to judge my reaction, lost interest and turned to look out the window.

I did the same, realizing that we were not in Mexico City anymore. We were driving down a narrow two-lane road in a rural area. We passed dilapidated structures occasionally, but the vista was made up mostly of trees and fields of corn, brown and dead.

As the minutes passed, my head cleared more. While there was never an "oh shit" moment, the realization slowly came to me that I had been kidnapped, and was in a van with strangers.

Finally, I decided I should say something. "Where are we going?" I asked.

Lupe looked at me as if to reply, but the wiry man driving the van spoke first. "Be quiet. We tell you more soon."

That seemed reasonable. But not really, I wasn't sure. I looked to Lupe who smiled reassuringly at me. That was nice, I liked her smile. My cock started to get hard, and that was embarrassing. Had she noticed?

We drove for a few more minutes in silence before turning off the road on to a bumpy dirt road. The jarring ride down this road lasted only two or three minutes, and then we were pulling off to the side.

The two men in the front seats got out, opening the sliding door for Lupe, who also stepped out of the van. All three of them pulled worn looking rifles out of the back of the van. I watched this happen, but stayed in my seat, not sure what to do. The man who had been driving peered in through the door and shouted, "out!"

I climbed out slowly, my legs not moving quite in time with my brain's instructions. It was an odd, somewhat pleasant sensation. Once out of the van, I stood on the side of the road looking around while my three companions busied themselves with backpacks that seemed quite large.

When they were finished closing their packs, the wiry van driver walked up to me and looked me in the eye.

"You are host-age," he said in broken English. "We are bring you away until your company pay the money. Then you go. Do what we say, don't get hurt."

He stared into my eyes for a long moment after he finished speaking, and I realized it was my turn to say something.

"Ok," I said. That seemed like the right thing to say, but a bit of fear was creeping into my addled brain as the chemicals wore off and the reality of the situation began to sink in.

The burly man who had been in the passenger seat laughed from a few feet away saying something in Spanish that I roughly translated to "he's still high."

The wiry van driver looked at me skeptically. With his rifle slung over his shoulder, I realized he had something in his hand, which he held up to my neck. It looked like a dog collar, and he placed it around my neck as if I were a dog. I was perplexed by this, it just didn't make any sense. After that, he pulled what could only be a dog leash from his pack, maybe 6 feet long, and attached it to something on the collar.

"Hey man," I said in light protest. Before the words had even left my mouth, his arm had whipped around and caught the side of my head with the back of his hand. I nearly fell over, but managed to stay standing with some effort.

"Do what we say." He said again, pointing his finger at me.

"Yeah, alright." I said, surprised but not injured.

There was some rapid communication between the three of them that I couldn't understand, and finally the wiry driver handed the end of the leash to Lupe.

"Your type," the man said with a small sneer as Lupe took the end of the leash, the other end of which was attached to the collar around my neck. "Maybe you will... keep his mind off his problems..." Lupe's face broke into an embarrassed grin.

The unexpected blow to the side of my head had helped clear my foggy brain even more, and everything finally clicked into place. I had been drugged back at the hotel. Somehow Lupe had gotten me into the van with these two guys. I was their hostage, and they were holding me for ransom, no doubt aware of my employer's deep pockets.

The three started walking, leading me down a trail that might have been a road at some point. I felt ridiculous with my hands cuffed in front of me, being pulled forward on a leash like an animal.

We walked like this for a long time. Through fields and wooded areas that felt more like a jungle. Past abandoned vehicles and barns. It must have been at least two hours in the high desert sun, and I was sweating profusely, more thirsty than I had ever been.

Lupe turned to look at me, and called a halt to the procession. The wiry van driver had been at the front of the group, and he turned back looking annoyed. Some clipped words were exchanged between them in Spanish.

I took the opportunity to say, "Could I please have some water?"

The wiry many came toward me as if to hit me again, but Lupe quickly stepped in front of me. "No Miguel," she said firmly. They glared at each other for a moment, until finally the man's face twisted into a sneer, and then he turned away.

Still holding the leash attached to the collar around me neck, Lupe pulled me firmly toward her and held a water bottle to my mouth. I drank gratefully, keenly aware of how close my face was to her chest. "Almost there," she breathed after I had taken in several large gulps. I was grateful for the water and rest, and was also not blind to the strange conflict that had flared between my captors.

We started our march again, the two men in front and Lupe leading me holding the leash attached to my neck.

After another 20 minutes of brisk walking, we rounded a turn into a makeshift camp site. Two large green tents were set up on either side of a fire pit. Lupe gestured for me to sit on the bench of a picnic table adjacent to the fire pit, leaving the end of the leash she had been holding on the table, and walking over to lay her pack and rifle at the entrance to one of the green tents.

It occurred to me that this was my chance to run, but my feet hurt and I was sure I had horrible blisters from our long hike.

After a few seconds and a hushed conversation with Miguel, Lupe strode back over to me, kneeling by my feet, and started pulling my shoes off. Without making eye contact, she dropped my shoes to the ground, leaving my socks on, and proceeded to attach another set of plastic zip-tie cuffs to my ankles.

Once that was done, she picked up the leash again and led me over to the entrance to the tent she had laid per pack by, unzipping the door. We moved slowly as I half hopped the few feet, trying to figure out how to move with my restrained ankles. Following Lupe's tug on the leash, I hopped over the lip of the tent entrance and immediately lost my balance and fell inside the tent. She laughed lightly at this and said simply, "Rest. I come back with food later."'

Tying the end of the leash to one of the tent poles, Lupe disappeared from sight, zipping the tent door closed. I scanned the small interior of the tent in the dimming light of evening; inside were two green cloth sleeping bags, threadbare and tattered. I laid on my back on one of them, trying to figure out how to make my cuffed hands comfortable. I could hear muted conversation and the sounds of food being prepared outside the tent as I finally found a comfortable position on my side to lay and rest.

The tent opened a few minutes later, and Lupe came in carrying a paper plate with some food on it. It was getting dark and and dim inside the tent but it looked like beans and rice, a few pieces of some kind of meat, maybe chicken. I sat up awkwardly and took the plate with my cuffed hands, trying to figure out how to hold it and eat at the same time.

There was a plastic fork on the plate which I took with one hand, and holding the plate with my other hand, tried to scoop some rice into my mouth. This was only somewhat successful, with about half of the rice spilling off the fork and on to the tent floor.

Lupe had been watching me intently. "No, no" she said quietly when the rice fell to the floor, and she grabbed the fork out of my hands. Picking up a forkful of rice and beans, she held the fork toward my mouth as I held the paper plate with my cuffed hands. I opened my mouth and took the food in gratefully, and it tasted fantastic. We continued like this until the plate was clean, Lupe slowly gathering food on the fork, and planting it in my mouth. It was utterly humiliating, but I was really hungry.

Through all of this, sitting with my wrists and ankles cuffed with this pretty young woman feeding me, my cock had gotten hard again. Damn, shameful I thought as I shifted in vain to disguise the protrusion in my pants. I wondered if this was some lingering effect from the drugs.

Lupe had clearly noticed, and a mischievous smile crept on to her face. Taking the plate from my hands and setting it aside, she casually reached across and put her hand right on the place where my cock was poking into my pants.

Surprised and embarrassed I immediately blurted, "Oh no, no."

Lupe giggled and put a finger to my lips. "Sssh," she whispered. "It's ok... you ok."

So I sat, totally frozen and ashamed with Lupe's outstretched hand gently rubbing my cock through my pants. With my wrists and ankles still cuffed and the collar around my neck still attached via the leash to a tent pole, there wasn't much I could have done to stop her even if I wanted to. Did I want to? Fuck, this is twisted, I thought.

A million protests went through my mind. My wife at home. What the other gun-toting captors would do if they saw this. I'm a hostage for fuck's sake, I'm not supposed to like it!

But it felt good. Really good. Lupe was watching me with her big brown eyes as her rubbing grew more confident and she started leaning into it. I let out an involuntary sigh and she reacted to this by doubling down, rubbing harder, a huge grin on her face.

"I got you," she whispered, "You mine now." I felt like something was getting lost in translation, but it felt very wrong, and so good.

Suddenly she stopped and pushed me from my sitting position on to my back. She leaned back and reached into her pack pulling out a terrifying looking hunting knife, probably 5 inches long, black and clean. Oh fuck I though, envisioning the worst.

With a few practiced swipes, she had cut through the plastic cuffs around my wrists. This was an unexpected turn of events. Should I fight? No sense in running with my ankles still cuffed. Lupe watched me carefully to see what I would do, and I hesitated, knowing that if she raised the alarm, I would be swiftly beaten by the other two captors.

Sensing her victory, Lupe's grin looked almost predatory. "On belly," she said, pushing me with one hand to show that she wanted me to roll over. I did so, and heard her reach into her pack again. Then she had grabbed my hands, pulling them behind my back. I felt rope go around my wrists, then in between, then around again and again. Then she was tying a knot, then another. In just a few seconds, she had tied my hands together behind my back with a piece of rope.

As soon as she was done, her hand reached back underneath me, groping for my crotch. She quickly found my cock, rubbing, pushing and pulling. I realized she was unbuttoning my pants, then yanking them down around my thighs. My underwear somehow managed to stay on, and she reached in again, groping and probing.

Lupe pulled on my hips, rolling me back over, my cock poking up through my underwear at an obtuse angle. Her expression looked hungry, and she was clearly enjoying this. She swiftly pulled down my underwear, exposing my cock to the cool evening air.

Standing and quickly kicking off her shoes and unceremoniously dropping her pants, she stood with one foot on either side of my hips, looking down at me. Then she squatted down over me, her crotch rubbing tantalizingly against my cock. Her expression more serious, she looked into my eyes and said quietly, "You make no sounds."

I nodded, without really understanding what I was agreeing to, then she was reaching to grab my cock with her hands, guiding it in to her as she lowered herself on to me. God it felt good.

Lupe sat like that for several seconds, staring into my eyes. All I knew in the world was the warmth and soft, tight wetness around my cock. Then she started moving up and down, slowly up and down. In utter disbelief that this was happening, and unable to participate in any meaningful way, I lay there as Lupe began to fuck me.

Her movements accelerated and she started rolling her hips backward and forward in addition to lifting up and down. Her head rolled back in pleasure, but the only sound in the tent was the low rustling of skin on fabric, and Lupe's slightly heavy breathing.

As her gyrations picked up intensity, she moved her hips forward and backward more than up and down, grinding herself against my cock. This still felt great but at the same time the angle was slightly uncomfortable. As I began to breathe more heavily, Lupe slowed and looked down at me, swiftly pulling her shirt over her head, followed by a very utilitarian looking sports bra. Her breasts, bouncing with each movement of her hips, were round and softball sized with small brown nipples.

She continued to stare into my eyes, leaning forward slightly and clamping a hand over my mouth. I knew I was approaching orgasm, and had no way of letting her know other than to softly grunt into her salty hand, which in turn clamped tighter across my lips.

She leaned even further forward so that her breasts were nearly touching my chest, hips still grinding forward and backward, forcing my cock in and out. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think she came first, her torso lowering completely on to me, her heavy breath on my neck. I came hard at that moment, using all of my self control to stay silent and not allow my body to jerk and thrust.

And that was the end of it. It had been a quick, intense fuck and Lupe disengaged with no ceremony. She leaned over and gave my cheek a peck, then a second later a playful slap. Quickly pulling her underwear on, she rolled over to the other sleeping bag next to mine, and laid on her back. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, skin glistening slightly with sweat in the quickly fading twilight. I rolled on my side to get some circulation back in my bound hands, then awkwardly pulled my underwear and pants back up.

After a few minutes Lupe got up, pulling her cargo pants and shirt on, and left the tent. A moment later I heard her talking and laughing with the other two men by the camp fire. I wondered if she would tell them what she had just done. If she had been "one of the guys" maybe fucking the hostage would just a notch in her belt - and it dawned on me that's exactly what it was for her.

It was pitch dark save for the dim light of the fire when Lupe came back into the tent. I had passed the time laying on my side trying in vain to listen to my captors' conversation and pick up any words I could understand. I got the sense that they were expecting ransom money the next day. What would happen then? I caught a whiff of alcohol on Lupe as she laid down on the sleeping bag. In short order her breathing became slow and regular, and she was asleep.

I drifted in and out of fitful sleep, hands tingling from poor circulation. At some point in the middle of the night, Lupe rolled over toward me and began fondling me again with her hands. She explored my body lazily, as if she had just acquired a piece of property and wanted to know its every contour. The air was cool and we were both on top of our sleeping bags rather than in them.

She pulled herself against me, her firm breasts pressing on me through her t-shirt. She kissed me aggressively, probing my mouth with her tongue, then finding my ears, and my neck. I remained relatively passive through all of this, unsure of what she wanted me to do. My cock had long since gotten rock hard again, and she found it with her hands through my pants.

We didn't fuck again though she nearly brought me to orgasm several times with her hands. I got the impression she enjoyed rubbing my cock until I got right to the edge, then rolling away and ignoring me for a few minutes.